The Apex Predator

Book #7 of The Human Chronicles Saga

T.R. Harris

An Adam Cain Adventure

Copyright 2013

by Tom Harris Creations, LLC

ISBN: 978-0-9913465-0-9

All rights reserved.**

Cover design by Matthew Kadish

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Novels by T.R. Harris

The Adam Cain Saga

The Dead Worlds

Empires

Battle Plan

Galactic Vortex

Dark Energy

Universal Law

The Formation Code

The Quantum Enigma

Children of the Aris

The Human Chronicles

The Fringe Worlds

Alien Assassin

The War of Pawns

The Tactics of Revenge

The Legend of Earth

Cain’s Crusaders

The Apex Predator

A Galaxy to Conquer

The Masters of War

Prelude to War

The Unreachable Stars

When Earth Reigned Supreme

A Clash of Aliens

Battlelines

The Copernicus Deception

Scorched Earth

Alien Games

The Cain Legacy

The Andromeda Mission

Last Species Standing

Invasion Force

Force of Gravity

Mission Critical

The Lost Universe

The Immortal War

Destroyer of Worlds

Phantoms

Terminus Rising

The Last Aris

The Human Chronicles Box Set Series

Box Set #1 – Books 1-5 in the series

Box Set #2 – Books 6-10 in the series

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

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

Box Set #5—Books 21-25 in the series

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

REV Warriors Series

Rev

REV: Renegades

REV: Rebirth

REV: Revolution

REV: Retribution

REV Warriors Part 2

REV: Revelations

REV: Resolve

REV: Requiem

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

Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series

The Enclaves of Sylox

Treasure of the Galactic Lights

The Drone Wars Series

Day of the Drone

In collaboration with Co-Author George Wier…

The Liberation Series

Captains Malicious

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The Apex Being

Adam Cain is an Alien with an Attitude.

The Apex Predator …

In this alien universe, Humans are the Supermen – stronger, faster and more coordinated than nearly all the other aliens in the galaxy. It’s this unique concept that has made The Human Chronicles Saga one of the most-popular science fiction series on the market today. Full of exotic adventure, alien worlds, fantastic space battles and a down-to-earth sense of humor, The Chronicles are a truly unique take on the subject of Human-Alien interaction.

The Apex Predator … is the exciting continuation of the adventures of Adam Cain and his team of Human Supermen.

In this edition …

Having placed a bounty on the heads of the alien Klin and Kracori races, Humanity must now face the desperate wrath of mankind’s worst enemies, who have once again joined forces for a pre-emptive strike against the Earth. Their plan is brilliant … and only the special abilities of ex-Navy SEAL Adam Cain can save the planet.

It’s a frantic race against time, as Adam and Sherri Valentine arrive on Earth to help mount a ragtag defense against the Kracori fleet. But will it be enough?

Meanwhile, Riyad Tarazi is on his own, carrying out the dangerous assignment of verifying the location of the Kracori homeworld of Elision. Riyad soon discovers he’s in the middle of a hornet’s nest of deadly aliens, every bit the equal of the Human Supermen. Will he succeed, or will he become another casualty of a galaxy growing ever more hostile to mankind.

And the evil Englishman Nigel McCarthy is up to his old tricks as well, and his actions resurrect the sleeping giant of the Juireans. It’s the last thing the Humans need is another deadly alien race devoted to their destruction.

As with all the books in The Human Chronicles Saga, this one is full of adventure, exotic locales, strange alien races … and of course the humor that readers have come to expect in each new volume.

On the planet Earth, mankind is The Apex Predator. In the Milky Way Galaxy, we will assume the same role. After all, you can only poke the bear so long … before you get your head bitten off!

Chapter 1

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil …

… because I’m the meanest son-of-a-bitch in the valley!

Riyad Tarazi smiled when the saying popped into his head – it seemed so appropriate for the moment.

He looked down at the alien-on-the-bed and shook his head. Yes, the obnoxious creature had pissed him off – as did most aliens – and being the bastard that he was, Riyad wasn’t about to let him get away with it. After all, in this valley, Riyad was the meanest son-of-a-bitch, a fact that was just now dawning on the unfortunate alien-on-the-bed.

Riyad knew he wasn’t the nicest guy around, and now with the added benefit of being a Human in alien space, he found he’d often go out of his way to be even more of a bastard out here than he would back on Earth. This made sense, because on his homeworld there was always a meaner, tougher S.O.B. waiting just around the corner to take you down; but out here in the galaxy … not so much.

A perfect example of this was the alien Riyad had strapped to the bed of his hotel room. He was a bureaucrat in the licensing department of the Silvean Trade Guild, the official union governing all merchant transactions within the Juddle Nebula. As it was with most beings in positions of appointed government power, the tall, green-skinned creature had an over-blown impression of himself, so much so that he ended up upsetting the wrong alien with his arrogant and condescending attitude.

That alien was Riyad Tarazi … from the planet Klingon.

Unfortunately, Riyad’s attempt at levity was the reason his cover story had unraveled, leading to the unfortunate series of events where a floppy-eared Tel’oran trade official was now tied to the bed, struggling against his bindings and protesting in no uncertain terms that his confinement was completely against protocol.

“By your actions, you have proven that you are no trader, but rather a mercenary or thief of some kind. I should have known immediately when the race of Klingon did not appear in any of our databases.”

Riyad grimaced. Yes, that was probably a mistake. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t just waltz into the Juddle Nebula and declare himself a Human, not with more Kracori spies here than anywhere else in the galaxy. Instead, he glued a set of fake gills on the sides of his neck and called himself a Klingon. Even though he was pretty sure Klingons didn’t have gills, he was positive Humans didn’t. With over eight thousand known species in the galaxy – many of which were uncatalogued – he had expected the Guild official to simply accept Klingons as just another of these uncatalogued races. Then after a quick check to verify that Humans were gill-less, the bored and disinterested government troll would enter his credentials and stamp his card.

At least that was the plan.

Yet to the misfortune of the alien-on-the-bed, the Tel’oran official had become suspicious and insisted on a complete workup on the Klingon race before he would issue even a temporary trade certificate. Riyad had neither the time nor patience for such bureaucratic bullshit. So before the alien could raise the alarm, Riyad slapped him unconscious, rolled him up in a bolt of cloth pulled from the curtains in his office, and carried him out of the building propped up under his right arm like so much trash being taken out.

No one questioned Riyad as he carried his bundle from the building. After all who would assume a full-grown Tel’oran could be carried so effortlessly? Yet to a Human, the thin-boned Tel’oran was about as heavy as a bag of groceries.

Now they were back in Riyad’s room, all settled in and having a more reasoned conversation regarding Riyad’s specific needs.

“I apologize if our association didn’t start off with the best of manners. What is your name, my friend? Perhaps we should get to know each other better.”

“I am Juous Minn, and I am afraid the time for pleasantries has passed.” For emphasis, the alien-on-the-bed jerked hard against his bindings. “No amount of courtesy will overcome the fact that you have abducted me … and simply because I questioned your claim to be a … a Klingon.”

“What does it matter to you whether I’m a Klingon … or a Smurf?” Riyad asked. “I’m just one person. Even if I meant to cause harm, what could I do on my own?”

“It matters not if you are one or a hundred, the fact that you have physically accosted and restrained me on this bed proves that your intentions are evil.”

Riyad nodded. “I can’t argue with that; however, if you believe that then why are you still resisting? All I am seeking is passage with a trade convoy. I truly do have goods to sell and your nebula is a prime market. We both come out winners. Just enter my information in your blasted computer and we can both get on with our lives.”

“I will not do that,” the alien stated firmly. “The Guild has existed for hundreds of years; we serve the Silvean Nebula and protect it from Outers – such as you. We are not part of the Expansion, or the Federation or any other such affiliation. We only accept outside trade as a consequence of our need for advanced technologies. Other than that, we need nothing from those beyond the Nebula, even from Smurfs … whatever they are.”

“They’re little blue creatures with antennae, but that’s not important now,” Riyad answered with a brilliant white smile. The Guild official didn’t recoil from the sight of Riyad’s teeth, revealing to him that this particular breed of alien didn’t subscribe to the bare-teeth-means-life-challenge, as did much of the Expansion. This was good; Riyad did so love to flash his pearly whites – and without having to kill aliens just for doing so.

The alien-on-the-bed was still talking. “I have come to believe that you are indeed trying to hide your true identity, which can only mean one thing: You are a Human in disguise, here to spy on the Nebula. Why else would you come with such devious ways?”

Riyad had taken a gamble when establishing his cover. Having no idea which races were included in the Guild’s database, he had to come up with some way of guarding against a physical-characteristics scan of any known species he claimed to be, forcing him to use a fake race instead. It was now apparent that security – and paranoia – within the nebula was greater than he’d anticipated.

“And what do you have against Humans … unless you have something to hide from them?” Riyad sat down on the bed next to the squirming alien. Even though this creature had a face like a knobby-faced gremlin – big ears and all – his body language was still easy to read. “Ah, so you are hiding something from the Humans! Now I wonder what that could be, my friend? Could it have anything to do with the rumored location of the Kracori homeworld being right here within your precious nebula?”

The alien hesitated before answering. “I know not what you speak of? The Kracori are outlaws, and having knowledge of their whereabouts and not disclosing it would only bring about the wrath of the Humans.”

“Exactly, and maybe that’s why you Nebulites – or whatever you call yourselves – are so protective of your turf? After all, what would the Humans do if they found you were harboring fugitives?”

“Humans do not concern us; we do not fear them,” the alien said defiantly, even though his body language continued to betray his true feelings. “And from what I understand, they have all left the Expansion and returned to the Far Arm. As far as I know, the Humans are not even aware of the Silvean Nebula – or the Juddle Nebula as you Outers call it.”

“And yet you suspect me of being one, so much so that you were about to call in your goons to arrest me.”

“I do not understand the word goon, but I was about to call in the Enforcers because you were attempting to perpetrate a fraud. Trade convoys are very exclusive and restricted to only those with essential goods or established businesses, of which you had neither.”

“I have a shipment of advanced medical monitors, better than any you currently have. My equipment will save lives. Shouldn’t that be enough to grant me a place in a convoy?”

“It would … if your other credentials had checked out. Yet you couldn’t even pass the race-of-origin verification. As is now apparent, my suspicions were justified.”

Yes, Riyad had been careless in his development of his legend – the background story spies built to hide their true identity and purpose. But who knew the Nebulites – or in this case, the Tel’orans – would be so paranoid? The fact that they were, only added more evidence for the circumstantial case that the ‘McCarthy Coordinates’ were correct. Now, more than ever, Riyad was sure he was on the right track.

Chapter 2

Riyad Tarazi

The location of the planet Elision was both the most-coveted secret in the galaxy, as well as its most-closely guarded. It had been over five years since the Humans had declared the Kracori an outlaw race, along with their allies, the Klin. For heinous crimes perpetrated against the people of Earth, mankind was determined to make them both pay.

The Klin had initiated the Juirean/Human War twelve years earlier, guiding the Juireans to the Earth and allowing for the death of nearly a seventh of the planet’s population. The Kracori, for their part, had attempted a nuclear attack on the planet a few years later, designed to irradiate the planet for thousands of years and effectively removing the Human race as a force within the galaxy. If it had not been for the courageous act of a minor race of beings called the Gielians, the Kracori would have succeeded.

Now the K’s – as the Klin-Kracori alliance was often referred – were hunted, not only by the Humans, but also by other races wishing to gain favor with them. Still others, not so blatant in their kowtowing, gladly revealed what information they found so as to not get caught up in the vendetta the Humans sought against their enemies.

To this day, the search for the Klin and the Kracori continued.

It had often been debated how two entire races could so effectively disappear from the galaxy; however, in the case of the Klin, it was more easily understood. Their homeworld of Klinmon had been destroyed four thousand years before by the Juireans, and now they survived in a number of hidden enclaves on a dozen different worlds.

The Kracori were another matter. They did have a homeworld, a planet called Elision, and more than ever, Riyad now believed that this mysterious world was located somewhere within the Juddle Nebula.

The Human outlaw, Nigel McCarthy, had direct knowledge of the planet’s location, having spent three years there before escaping with his small band of Human mercenaries. Then four months earlier, just before being killed by a squadron of attacking Kracori starships, McCarthy had given the coordinates to Captain Mark Henderson, one of Riyad’s former colleagues with the paramilitary unit called Cain’s Crusaders. Henderson survived the Kracori attack and eventually made his way back to Earth. There he negotiated a rather favorable reward for himself and then revealed what were now known as the ‘McCarthy Coordinates.’

However, with McCarthy himself being a first-rate, backstabbing son-of-a-bitch, the information he’d given Henderson had to first be verified before any action could be taken against the Kracori. After all, one didn’t launch major planetary assaults nine thousand light-years from one’s home planet without first making sure the target was actually there.

That’s where Riyad Tarazi came in.

With so few Humans still operating within the Expansion, the assignment had fallen on the Crusaders … or at least what was left of them. Jamal Dawson had died in the same explosion that claimed McCarthy’s life, while Commander Lee Schwartz had been killed during McCarthy’s failed assault on the Crusader’s base on Pyrum-3. Mark Henderson was on Earth enjoying the benefits of his sizable reward, while Adam Cain and Sherri Valentine were halfway there themselves, for what was ostensibly being called a vacation. That left only Riyad to carry out the mission.

To say that he was excited about his new assignment would have been a gross understatement. When the assignment came in, giving Riyad carte blanche authority to carry out the mission by whatever means necessary, it actually stirred a near-sexual response in the former Al-Qaida commander. Now, without the tempering presence of Adam or Sherri, Riyad was free to return to his roots – as that of a ruthless and pragmatic warrior.

For most of his time in space, Riyad Tarazi had operated solo – or at least without other Humans around. He spent six years as the leader of the Fringe Pirates, molding that force of over five hundred alien privateers into a well-oiled criminal enterprise that terrorized the area of the Expansion known as The Fringe Worlds. He prospered financially, while at the same time satisfying a lifelong desire to lead a great number of warriors under his absolute command. Unfortunately, the warriors were alien, not Human; however at the time, his thirst for power had been somewhat satiated, if hollow to a large degree.

Since joining up with Adam Cain for their various adventures throughout the galaxy, Riyad’s thirst – and somewhat sadistic tendencies – had been held in check by the other Humans he operated with, many of whom were more skilled at the art of war than he, and therefore, not to be trifled with. That was a shame, because out here in the galaxy Humans were the supermen – stronger, faster and tougher than just about every race they encountered. In the early years of Riyad’s galactic tenure, he had taken full advantage of these special traits, enjoying the literal physical domination he had over others. That changed when more Humans showed up on the scene.

And now Riyad was operating solo once again, freeing him to be as ruthless as the mission required – and with no one looking over his shoulder questioning his methods.

The corners of Riyad’s mouth curled up as he looked over at the alien-on-the-bed. The creature had just admitted he’d never before met a Human, so all his knowledge was based on rumor and myth. Now the alien was about to get a first-hand introduction into what made Humans the terror of the galaxy. It would be knowledge the alien-on-the-bed would carry to his grave … if he weren’t careful.

Chapter 3

Riyad took out a knife and cut a pant leg of the alien’s tunic up past the knee. The creature began kicking and twisting against the restraints.

“Stop moving or I’ll cut you by mistake,” Riyad said.

“What are you doing to me?”

Riyad moved to the end of the bed. “I asked you nicely to authorize my trade status and all you’ve done is resist. Now the time for being nice has passed.” Riyad’s smile vanished.

The Tel’oran froze on the bed and stopped struggling. His eyes grew even wider. “Why are you acting this way?”

“I told you, I am a trader and all I seek is commerce. But now you accuse me of being a savage Human beast. I am truly offended by this, and where I come from, I would be justified in ending your life here and now.” Riyad beamed inside; believing his performance worthy of an Oscar.

“I am but a servant in the Guild; I am just doing my job.”

Riyad shook his head. “You haven’t up till now. I need you to sit down at that computer and make me part of the next trade convoy heading into the nebula.”

“And if I refuse?”

For an answer, Riyad reached down with his knife and deftly sliced a one-inch section of scaly, light-green skin from the alien’s leg. The Tel’oran gasped from the near unbearable pain, his breath drawn so short that he didn’t even have the means to scream out. Blood began to spill onto the bedding.

“I will gladly slice off every inch of your skin unless you cooperate. The pain will be excruciating, yet you will not die – I will see to that. Instead I will make you suffer as no Tel’oran has ever before.” Riyad reached down with his blade again. “Shall I begin?”

“No, please do not!” the alien cried out. “I will do anything you wish … anything!”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place? Now with all the blood on the bed, I probably won’t get back my cleaning deposit.”

“What … I do not understand?”

Riyad cut the bindings with his knife, freeing the now-trembling and sweating creature. “Never mind; just get on the computer and don’t give me any bullshit about not being able to log onto your system, I know you can.”

The Tel’oran used the sheet to wrap his bloody wound before moving to the table with the computer.

“Bull-shit? Please don’t cut me again, I am endeavoring to cooperate, yet I do not fully understand all you ask!”

“Just get on the computer.” The alien sat unsteadily at the desk, and as he leaned forward to the attached keyboard, Riyad placed the knife against the greenish skin of his neck. “And don’t do anything to alert your people. I’ll know if you do.”

The alien inhaled sharply and nearly fainted. When Riyad withdrew the blade the Tel’oran relaxed visibly. “What kind of trader are you?”

Riyad smiled. “A good one – my customers never tell me no.”

“I can understand why.” Juous began to type feverishly, referring frequently to the datapad Riyad had placed next to the computer containing all the elements of his cover story. Ten minutes later, the alien leaned back in the chair.

“It is done. Now when you check-in at the departure station, your authorization will be available for verification.”

Riyad placed a hand gently on the shoulder of the Tel’oran, his smile returning. “Good. Now one last thing: Do you have anything in your society like a vacation or leave of absence?”

“I understand the translation. Yes, we have both.”

“Good! Now let your supervisors know that you are going away for a couple of weeks – a vacation or a leave of absence – whatever you would like to call it.”

“I do not have an accumulated two weeks of vacation available, yet a leave of absence will be approved; it is without compensation.”

“Wonderful!” Riyad said, genuinely pleased. “You would be surprised how similar both our societies really are.”

Juous went back to typing. A few moments later he finished.

“Are you done? Are you now on a leave-of-absence?”

The alien turned back to the computer and clicked through a few screens. “Yes … the request was approved by automation. It is done. What happens next?”

Riyad had moved behind the green alien. “You don’t want to know.” Riyad quickly locked his right arm around the neck of the Tel’oran and with his left hand, began to squeeze. Just before the alien lost consciousness, Riyad released him.

“I could have killed you just then. Do you agree with that statement, Juous Minn?”

The Tel’oran just nodded rapidly while rubbing his bruised neck.

“Good, I don’t want to kill you, but I will if I must. Now I strongly suggest that you do disappear for a couple of weeks and speak nothing of this. We Klingons are very vengeful, and if I learn you have reported me, I will come after you and your bloodline. I ask again, do you believe me Juous Minn?”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Riyad had grown tired of the Tel’orans constant babbling about how he wouldn’t tell the gods themselves about the encounter. Even though he knew he was taking a big chance by not simply killing the alien outright, Riyad didn’t feel a simple bureaucrat – no matter how obnoxious – should be killed indiscriminately. Yet as Juous rushed from the room, Riyad dropped his jaw, shook his head and spoke to the empty room. “Damn you, Adam Cain! You’ve turned me into a darker-skinned version of yourself.”

Chapter 4

The Guild Transit Station was located at the main spaceport, about two miles from where Riyad had left his ship – a vessel that was a smaller version of the Pegasus. It was a concentrated-array starship similar to the others and capable of speeds unheard of within stellar systems. He named it Ifrit, after the Arabian mythological winged-creature of fire, figuring that if the Americans could name their ships after mythical winged beasts, then so could he. Yet his was more indicative of his cultural heritage, and not that of the Americans.

He entered the administration building as if he belonged there and was directed to the Convoy Assignment department. After providing his name and other basic information, he waited patiently for the clerk to pull up his data; a small laser-beam weapon was hidden in the waistband of his pants just in case the alien-on-the-bed had deceived him.

It wasn’t needed.

The clerk looked up and began to ask questions. “I do not notice any information regarding past convoy transits. Is this your first?”

“Yes … is that a problem?”

“No problem, yet are you aware that a pilot and assistant are required to make the transit to Lucon-Por?”

“Why is that? My ship has advanced navigation capabilities.”

The clerk regarded him for a moment, suspicion growing in her expression. “Navigation data is never given to Outers for a variety of reasons. First it is too dangerous to attempt the transit without guidance, and secondly, this is proprietary information exclusive of the Guild. As a first-traveler, I assume you were not aware of this, yet you or your shipping organization should have researched our protocols more vigorously.”

“I was not aware of all your particular rules,” Riyad answered quickly. “Thank you for clarifying. A pilot will be fine, although the accommodations may be a little cramped.”

“The transit will take nineteen hours and there will be no time for anything other than navigation and precise piloting. The Nebula is a very treacherous place to travel without guidance.”

“I’m sure it is; any assistance will be welcome.”

* * *

After learning that his convoy would be leaving in under an hour, Riyad quickly returned to the Ifrit to begin preparations. Minutes later, a beep sounded from within the pilothouse. His guides had arrived.

Even back on Earth, pilots were common aboard shipping and military vessels. These were very skilled navigators, familiar with ports, rivers, canals and other areas where local knowledge was crucial. They were put in temporary command of the vessel during the transit, with their every command expected to be followed precisely and without question.

The pilot for the Lucon-Por transit was a Tel’oran, as was his assistant. They entered the ship with a superior, condescending attitude and asked to be shown the pilothouse. When they entered the control room, the eyes of both the aliens grew wide.

“I am not familiar with this control alignment,” said the older alien, obviously the main pilot. “I will require a briefing – no, ample time does not exist. Your passage will have to be delayed.”

“A delay won’t be necessary,” Riyad countered quickly. “You are here to provide navigation – you can still do that – and I can pilot the ship.”

“That is not how it works.” The two aliens turned to leave.

“Wait!” Riyad called out. “I have something here that might help you with the controls.”

Prior to embarking on his mission, Riyad was provided with a supply of Tel’oran money called ruiens, along with half a dozen other currencies Kroekus’s people thought might be needed. These were contingency funds to be used at Riyad’s discretion, and to him they were nothing more than stacks of worthless plastic.

The pilot turned back to him. “And what is that? We are to leave within the hour; there is not enough time for me to learn these controls.”

Riyad opened a small drawer in a side console and withdrew the equivalent of ten thousand dollars in Tel’oran ruiens. “Like I said, I can pilot the ship. All you need to do is guide me.”

This was a gamble on Riyad’s part, and he carefully watched the reactions of the two aliens, ready to act if necessary.

The Tel’orans leaned in closer to the money in Riyad’s hand; they glanced at each other, the younger of the two – the assistant-pilot – looking anxiously at the other. The pilot hesitated, before turning his attention back to Riyad.

“For each,” he said as he snatched the stack of plastic credits from Riyad’s hand.

Riyad smiled. Yes, the Tel’orans were very Human-like, which opened up a whole other set of possibilities for the two aliens. He withdrew another ten thousand ruiens from the drawer, yet as he went to hand this stack to the assistant, the pilot quickly intercepted the credits. Riyad watched with amusement as the pilot counted out five thousand credits and handed them to his assistant, keeping fifteen for himself. It was obvious that even in Tel’oran society rank had its privileges.

“Very well,” said the pilot. “But you are not to record any of the navigation coordinates. Just do as I say, when I say it. Is this clear?”

“Crystal,” Riyad answered with a smile.

“What?”

“Yes, I understand.”

Riyad took his place in the pilot seat, as the two aliens hunkered down at the navigation console. Maybe I should have tried that with the Tel’oran trade official, he thought. It might have saved me a few bucks. Riyad had been charged for the missing sheets from his hotel room. Oh well, at least they didn’t keep the entire deposit.

* * *

The pilot’s name was Ruszel Crin and his young assistant, Canos. Even though handsomely compensated for relinquishing the controls of the Ifrit, Ruszel still appeared uncomfortable with the whole affair. Although the aliens were not beyond taking a bribe, Riyad got the distinct impression that this was a first for both of them. Still, they went about their duties without another word about the credits that had just changed hands.

“Lift-off with chemical drive and then proceed to these coordinates,” Ruszel commanded without looking from his console. The coordinates appeared on Riyad’s screen.

“Is that where we meet up with the others in the convoy?” Riyad inquired, as he engaged the engines. “How many ships are going with us?”

“There are sixty-three heading out,” Canos said, speaking for the first time. “It is a small convoy this time; what is your cargo?”

“Medical monitoring devices – quite advanced models.”

“They must be incredibly small,” said Canos. “Most ships transporting merchant goods into the Nebula are very large. They have to be, to carry enough cargo to supply all the planets on the route.”

“How many planets will we be visiting?”

Both aliens stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Riyad.

Oops!

It was Ruszel who broke the stunned silence. “You do not know the number of planets on the route? Have you never done this before?”

“Don’t get all bent out of shape,” Riyad scolded, trying to retake the initiative. “This is my first time doing this. We don’t normally have to join convoys to engage in honest trade.”

“Yet you must have inquired during the application process?” Canos stammered. “How could you go so blindly into this endeavor?”

“To answer your question,” Ruszel interrupted, “there are fourteen planets on this particular route. That is why there are only sixty-three merchants participating this time out. And following up on Canos’ statement, unless you have half a million or more of your monitoring devices onboard, you will run out of stock long before you complete the circuit.”

Half a million! He barely had three hundred. Should he tell them…?

“Once you are depleted of inventory, you will be required to complete the entire circuit,” Ruszel continued. “You will not be allowed to leave the convoy and depart early.”

“This is more of an exploratory trip,” Riyad explained, improvising. “I’m just out to demonstrate my products and establish contacts. Surely that’s done all the time.”

“Not within Trade Convoys,” said Ruszel. “There is another process for that through the Guild.”

The Ifrit was still on chemical drive and lifting high into the atmosphere of Tel’or. Riyad should have switched to gravity drive long before this; his chemical propellant was being used up much too quickly.

“So I made a mistake – sue me!” Riyad shouted. “Should I take my twenty thousand ruiens back and return to the surface? Hurry … I’m running out of fuel with all this talk.”

This got the aliens’ attention. Once received, the credits were hard to give back. “You may initiate a shallow-well. And no, we will proceed,” Ruszel replied, ignoring the panicked look on the face of his assistant. “But I must warn you, your reception on the planets of the Nebula will not be welcome without having gone through the proper channels to establish trade networks—”

Riyad saw Ruszel’s jaw drop when he engaged the generators and the concentrated-array of eight focusing rings initiated a well. The Tel’oran could see the power readings on the pilot screen and the number of rings now online. “Please try to concentrate, Ruszel,” Riyad said loudly, attempting to break the alien out of his trance. “Where do I go now?”

Ruszel literally shook himself out of his transfixed state, and then awkwardly turned back to his screen. He sent over a set of coordinates to Riyad’s station. Once this was done, Ruszel stood and approached Riyad’s console.

“What make of craft is this?” he asked without taking his eyes from the monitor and its surrounding gauges. Riyad detected no malice in his question, just immense admiration, boarding on awe.

“It’s a custom design. You have a good eye, Ruszel; you know your ships.”

“Both of my eyes are good; it is a requirement of being a pilot,” the alien replied. “And yes, I do know ships, better than most within the Guild corps.” He leaned in closer and actually reached out a hand and ran it reverently across the pilot’s monitor. “I have come in contact with nearly every kind of vessel built within the Nebula and the Expansion, and I have never seen an eight-array starship. How have you managed to accomplish this without harmonic disruptions?”

Riyad smiled. “I just fly them; I don’t know what makes them work.” An honest assessment of my mechanical skills, Riyad thought. Others – such as Adam Cain – liked to tinker with their ships and understood more of the principles behind their operation. Not so Riyad Tarazi. His cruel and violent upbringing in the slums of Beirut, Lebanon, had afforded him neither the time nor the opportunity to develop such a skill-set. In fact, by the time the typical American teenage male was learning how to rebuild his first engine-block or sink a jump-shot from the top of the key, Riyad could already field-strip a Russian-made AK-47 and construct an IED out of everyday kitchen components. Each individual skill-set came in handy, depending on the environment in which one was raised. For Riyad Tarazi, staying alive was more important than knowing how to install a Holley carburetor in a ’68 Camaro.

The alien was still hovering over his station. “Don’t you have something better to do?” Riyad asked, looking up at the Tel’oran’s green, knobby face.

Embarrassed, Ruszel returned to his seat and began to work the console. “Remain on this course for approximately fifteen minutes. You will see the convoy assembly area just outside the Crymous Moon. I will guide you to your position and then we will depart after another twenty minutes or so.”

The planet Tel’or had three moons – one as large as Earth’s, while the other two were not much more than asteroids tethered to the planet through gravitational influence. The Crymous Moon – where the coordinates were leading him – was the major moon of Tel’or.

“I tend to believe this ship could reach incredible velocities,” Ruszel tagged onto the end of his last statement. “And with the number of rings … that could make for….” He stopped and looked over at Riyad. “You can achieve full-well-integrity in a more concentrated space, thus allowing for journeys at speed within … even within stellar systems! Is this correct?”

“Yeah, I can go really fast.”

The alien Ruszel indeed knew his ships, and from just a moment’s observation of the pilot’s screen he had already deduced the major advantage the Ifrit had over more conventional starships. This alien seemed almost too bright, too inquisitive.

As was his lot in life, Riyad began to formulate contingency plans within his devious, tactical mind … just in case both Ruszel, as well as the affable Canos, had to be eliminated….

* * *

Canos had been correct about the size of the other merchant ships. Lined up as far as the eye could see were dozens of gigantic starships of nearly every make and model, all preparing for the guided tour of the Juddle – Silvean – Nebula.

“Are all these outside traders or locals as well?” Riyad asked, in awe of the incredible mass of ships all crowded into this confined space.

“These are all Outers,” Canos answered. “Guild members have less restricted travel rights.”

“And this is a small convoy?”

“Yes, most number in the hundreds when the circuit includes all forty-one Guild planets.”

Riyad noticed Ruszel shoot a stern look at his young assistant. Holding the bribe over the heads of the aliens gave the Human unspoken leverage over the Tel’orans, even if they hadn’t realized it yet. Because of this, Riyad felt he could press them for more information than he could otherwise without the bribe.

“Is Elision a member of the Guild?”

Ruszel’s reaction spoke volumes; he was more amused by the comment than shocked, as Riyad expected. “Elision is a rumor, nothing more. Since the Kracori appeared in the Expansion, there have been dozens, in fact hundreds, of such inquires. Yet as a senior pilot within the Guild, I suspect I would know if Elision was located within the Nebula or not.”

“Then why do you guard your nebula so closely? Your secrecy is what helps feed the rumors.”

“Speak to the leaders about that,” Ruszel answered. “I know we guard our independence against the efforts of Outers to incorporate us into one group or another. Why this is so, I do not know? Now pay attention – the convoy is preparing for departure and there is a specific order that must be followed so as to not overlap wells. Your ship was the last to be added, so we will be the last to depart.”

The aliens hunkered down over the nav console again as Riyad watched the scene outside through the main viewport. At first nothing happened, but then he noticed a distant dot representing the furthest starship within his view suddenly flare bright and disappear. Then the string of flares became brighter and ever-closer, as each ship in the line subsequently engaged a well and disappeared into its event horizon.

“Prepare for a ninth-degree well,” Canos said. “Engage on my command.”

The ships nearest the Ifrit continued to disappear until the space before him was empty.

“Engage!”

Riyad energized the generators, and soon the space before them was warped into the familiar circular swirl associated with faster-than-light travel. Within the event horizon of the continuous series of microscopic blackholes being created ahead of them, the effects of Relativity no longer applied. Movement was achieved through the warping of space/time around the singularities, so no energy was required on the part of the Ifrit to achieve faster-than-light speeds. In addition, the space on the opposite side of the singularities was also drawn in, thereby reducing the distances covered by a factor of a hundred or more. When the wells were dissolved, Riyad and the two aliens would find themselves nearly a light-year beyond their original point of entry, with only a few hours of real time having passed.

* * *

As suspected, Ruszel wasn’t content to spend his time during the transit solely at the navigation console. He approached Riyad’s station again and scrutinized the readings. He pointed at a gauge to Riyad’s right. “Is that correct, your ship is operating at less than ten percent capacity?”

“That’s what it says.”

Ruszel opened his mouth to say something more, but then thought better of it. Riyad figured it would be another technical question, one that even if he could answer he probably wouldn’t.

Eventually the Tel’oran did construct a comment. “This transit will take nineteen hours; however, I estimate your ship could do it in less than two.”

“That sounds about right.”

“And the well is just beyond the ship….” He looked out the viewport and into the convoluted image of the universe beyond. Even if the singularity were within eyesight, it would still be invisible; after all, it was a blackhole. Yet Riyad felt the alien was in awe of being this close to one of the most-powerful and destructive forces in nature. It was now time to start pumping the pilot for more information….

“Surely you have seen some of the most awesome sights in the galaxy since you live within a nebula. These are some of the most violent regions in space.”

“That is why pilots are required; the gravity influences here are constantly changing. I have seen stars explode without warning and disrupt gravity planes over a wide area. You may think we are being secretive and protective; when it is mainly for your own protection that we insist on local pilots.”

“And yet, before I came to your nebula, I checked the survey maps. There is a region of relative emptiness, even in such a concentration of stellar material.”

“The Dysion Void,” Canos offered from the navigation console.

“Is that what it’s called?”

Ruszel nodded. “Yes, it is an anomaly, and one surrounded by the Dysion Shield.”

“What’s that?”

Ruszel spun an empty console seat next to Riyad’s station and sat down. Even as he spoke, he kept eyeing Riyad’s console, still enamored with the power and sophistication of the Ifrit. “In the distant past, a series of young stars went nova and cast a vast blanket of thick, radioactive dust throughout the region. It now completely surrounds the Dysion Void.”

“And there’s nothing within this void … no stars, no planets?”

“There are a few, from what can be detected, but nothing substantial or habitable.”

“Are you sure?”

Ruszel looked at Riyad and frowned, at least as much as his taut, knobby forehead would allow. “It is what the charts indicate. I have never been to the region; there has been no cause to journey there. Why do you ask? Is it about the Kracori again?”

“No,” Riyad answered nonchalantly. “It’s just that your nebula is new to me, and I have never spent much time operating within one.”

“Few have. Most merchants prefer the more open regions of space, areas not so full of dangerous passages. Yet they still come here because we pay the most for their goods and the technology.”

“Ruszel, we are nearing the Krilous Spike. I need your assistance,” Canos called out,

Ruszel nodded. “This is the first of many course corrections which will require my attention. The path gets treacherous from here on. Prepare for new coordinates, Riyad Tarazi.”

“Just call me Riyad,” the Human said with a grin. “And if you’re nice, I may even let you pilot the Ifrit for a while.”

The Tel’oran beamed with excitement. “I have not operated a vessel with eight focusing rings before. However, I would welcome the opportunity – if you are available as a second. The course we travel must be precise, and although piloting such a vessel would be the highlight of my career, I would not like to risk my life doing so.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there to back you up.”

Good, Riyad thought. Bond with this alien and then he might help with the other part of the plan I’m working on. A little quid pro quo, my skinny, green friend.

Chapter 5

Nigel McCarthy

Nigel McCarthy was lucky to be alive, yet he still wished he’d put more thought into the logistics of his return to Highland before launching in the tiny shuttle. Captain Mark Henderson, the former Army Ranger and member of Cain’s Crusaders, had taken the long-range shuttle from the Phoenix for his trip to Juir, leaving only a small planet-hopper for Nigel. Now the four-hundred light-year-long trip back to Highland had turned into a long and excruciatingly difficult ordeal.

First of all, the journey required several stops for refueling, and finding the proper energy modules for the small shuttle had proved to be problematic. With his broken arm and cracked ribs – suffered during his failed attempt to kill Adam Cain and his team on Pyrum-3 – Nigel was in no condition to take anything by force. To overcome this limitation, he had drifted slowly through the vastness of interstellar space during the first long leg of the journey, conserving the ship’s energy and allowing his body time to heal before making his first planet-fall.

Alien medical technology, even for Humans, was quite advanced, so the healing time for his injuries was reduced dramatically. Within two weeks of parting company with Henderson – and subsequent destruction of the Phoenix – his arm was functioning reasonably well and his ribs now allowed for a somewhat painful yet tolerable range-of-motion.

His first landfall was on a small world twelve light-years from where the Phoenix was destroyed and he ended up killing three natives in order to steal the energy modules from a similar-sized shuttle. He had hoped to find a longer-range vessel on the planet, but that wasn’t in the cards, at least not at this stop.

A month and two stops later, Nigel did find an available medium-range shuttle, even though the current owners didn’t know it was available for Nigel’s use. Although his escape was a little more spectacular than he wished, he was able to eventually shake his pursuers and head off into open space in his shiny new spacecraft.

Now, over three months since his journey began, Nigel McCarthy was almost home; himself a living symbol of the legendary Phoenix, and about to rise from the ashes of the dead and live again. At least that’s the way he saw it.

He was nearing the planet he called Highland, located four hundred thirty light-years from Juir and his current base of operations. Returning alone – without even his trusty second-in-command Carter Thomas alive to back him up – Nigel had decided not to contact his base ahead of time to let his men know he was still alive. He knew he couldn’t trust any of his mercenaries. With his capture and reports of his subsequent death, his men would have already established a new chain of command, and until Nigel had a better idea of what was going on at the base, he would keep his return a surprise.

So, instead of arriving at the front door and announcing, ‘I’m back!’ he would land outside the base and make his way in through a secret access only he and Carter knew of. If he could reach the lab section of the base unseen, then he could decidedly turn the tables on whatever coup may have occurred since he’d left.

He realized he was being overly cautious, yet when you’ve spent much of your adult life betraying others around you, you tend to base much of your actions on your own sense of paranoia and distrust.

This habit – of always expecting betrayal by others – had saved his life before … and it just might do it again.

Chapter 6

Riyad Tarazi

Ruszel was right. The remainder of the journey to Lucon-Por, the first planet in the trade circuit, did involve constant attention on the part of the pilot. Rather than simply setting a course and letting the ship guide itself, Riyad and Ruszel had to constantly steer the ship through ever-changing gravitational eddies, around debris fields and past intense radiation sources. Life within a nebula must be hell, Riyad thought, like living in a blender full of star stuff. If this was how it was throughout the entire region, then Riyad was glad to have the more-experienced alien pilots aboard.

The tall, green Tel’oran took to the controls quickly, even though Riyad had to step in occasionally and take over. By the time they reached Lucon-Por, Ruszel was becoming quite adept at the controls … and still bouncing with excitement at the opportunity to pilot the Ifrit.

“I have made hundreds of transits before and I must admit I have never enjoyed one as much as this one. I only wish there had been an opportunity to pilot your ship under full power.”

“Can we not deviate from the route, even under the command of a Guild pilot?”

“Not as part of a Trade Convoy. That would be highly unusual.”

“But not unheard of? Maybe further in you will get the opportunity.”

“There are always emergencies, exceptions to the protocols, but my time here is at an end. Another pilot will take you further in.”

“No shit?”

Ruszel blinked his eyes rapidly. “Your sudden change of subject has me confused. Do you require relief of your bodily waste? Has something drastic occurred?”

“No, sorry, it’s just an expression. It means I can’t believe what you’re saying. You won’t be guiding the rest of my tour – why not?”

“Yes, it is true. Since your addition to this convoy came at the last moment, I was called in temporarily to lead you through only this part of the circuit. Now a permanent pilot will be assigned.”

“But I want you; can’t that be arranged?”

The expression on the green alien’s face softened. “I am moved by your comment, Riyad, and I appreciate your trust in my abilities. Surely a pilot of your skill, and with a ship as advanced as yours, does not even require the presence of a Guild pilot, even though that is the law.”

“I thought our financial transaction covered the entire transit. Now I’ll have to deal with another pilot.” Riyad’s mind was clicking through his options as quickly as possible. He couldn’t let these two get away.

Ruszel seemed genuinely embarrassed at the mention of the bribe. “Yes … that was helpful, and I wish there was something I could do to make it right.”

Canos perked up at Ruszel’s last comment. Until then he was only half-listening to the conversation on the bridge. The last thing the young Tel’oran wanted was to give back a portion of the bribe.

Riyad smiled. “Well I have another proposal for you, you and Canos.”

“I’m afraid I cannot listen to your proposal, Riyad,” Ruszel said, beginning to turn away, while actually raising his hands to partially cover his ears.

“One hundred thousand ruiens – each.” Then thinking back to Ruszel’s division of the last credits to change hands, Riyad quickly amended his offer; “Or two hundred thousand ruiens to be divided as you see fit, Ruszel.”

From his reaction, Ruszel heard Riyad’s offer, even with his ears covered. Meanwhile, Canos literally jumped out of his seat and ran to Ruszel’s side, staring up at his taller superior with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Ruszel shook his head. “This would involve an illegal activity,” he stated, no question in his tone.

“I don’t know if it’s illegal or not,” Riyad countered. “But I do know it will be dangerous.”

“What is it? What do you want us to do” Canos asked, much to Ruszel’s chagrin.

For an answer, Riyad turned to his console and typed in a set of coordinates and set them to display prominently on the screen. Both aliens leaned in closer, studying the numbers with intense concentration.

“That is in the Gainis Quadrant….” Canos spoke aloud.

Ruszel nodded. “Yes … and bordering Jylen.”

“The Dysion Void!” Canos stood back, a look of fear on his face.

The Tel’oran pilot looked directly at Riyad, a cold, emotionless expression on his face. “You are looking for the Kracori, are you not, and you believe them to be within the Void?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Who are you in reality, Riyad Tarazi? You come into the Nebula posing as a merchant trader, and yet you carry barely enough merchandise for one world, let alone dozens. And you apparently have not followed protocol in securing passage with the Convoy, joining at the last moment. My suspicions are many, yet foremost is that you are a spy of some sort, possibly of the Expansion.”

“Two hundred thousand ruiens; that should be your only concern at this point,” Riyad said as he slowly rose from his seat to stand directly in front of the much taller Tel’oran. “That’s a lifetime’s worth of income for a typical Tel’oran.”

“It is not illegal for us to go to the Void,” Canos quickly added, still looking at Ruszel.

“But it is illegal for us to leave the convoy with an Outer.”

“Not if we declare an emergency.”

Ruszel continued to stare into Riyad’s eyes for a moment longer before slowly turning his attention to his agitated subordinate. “And what emergency would you propose?” It was a rhetorical question on Ruszel’s part … but not to his young assistant.

“I could be called back to Tel’or for a blood-line emergency. We could inform the Guild that this merchant has already been depleted of his inventory, and so his ship would be available for the return transit. It is unusual, but not extraordinary.”

“And what happens when we deviate from our course and set out for the Void instead of Tel’or?”

“Once away from Lucon-Por we will be undetectable.”

“And when we do not arrive at Tel’or on time?”

“You are being overly cautious, Ruszel,” Canos said, more forcefully than Riyad had ever heard him address his superior before. “We both know there will be no concern for our return. No one will notice.”

“And you’ll be rich beyond your wildest dreams,” Riyad added, just for effect.

Ruszel was quiet for a long moment as he looked down at the pilot’s console of the Ifrit. Riyad noticed.

“If any ship can make the transit, you know it’s this one,” he said. And just to sweeten the pot even more; “And at the conclusion of my mission, I may even throw in the Ifrit as a bonus.”

Ruszel jerked his head so fast in Riyad’s direction that he feared the alien would snap his neck. There was a long, tense moment of silence between the Tel’oran and the Human, before Ruszel finally spoke. “What is the phrase you used earlier … No Shit? You would do that?”

Riyad smiled. “No shit, my friend. Just get me to that set of coordinates and back … and both the credits and the ship are yours.”

There was no need for words after that; the look on the faces of both the aliens said it all.

Chapter 7

Aboard the Pegasus…

Sherri Valentine entered the lounge area of the Pegasus with a determined gait and a frown on her face. She stopped abruptly at the sofa where Adam was reclining and tossed something onto his stomach.

“You know what that is?” she asked sternly.

Adam returned the frown and picked up the object. “It looks like a ball of lint,” he replied, slightly annoyed at the interruption.

“A ball of lint, that’s exactly what it is!” Sherri confirmed. “And do you know where I got it?”

“I assume from the dryer.”

“From the dryer … that’s right! And how many times have I told you to clean out the lint filter before you dry your clothes? The last thing we need aboard a starship is a fire.”

“It’s an electric dryer, Sherri,” Adam countered. “It would take a lot to start a fire.”

“That doesn’t matter; it could still happen, and I’ve told you – repeatedly – to clean the filter, but you never listen to me.”

Adam was getting angry. First she storms into the lounge interrupting his exercises, and now she’s going on about something as trivial as cleaning out a lint trap. “Excuse me, Sherri, but I may have other things on my mind – like trying to save the galaxy from marauding super-villains.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t take the time to clean out the damn lint-filter!”

“What exactly is your problem?” he asked, now sitting up on the couch. “You’ve been a real bitch for weeks now. I thought we got past all this?”

Sherri glared at him for a few tense moments, her jaw set tight and a vein in her neck adequately engorged. “What do you mean what’s wrong with me – what’s wrong with you? All you seem to do these days is lie around and play with the electronics on the ship. With all your new superpowers—” she emphasized the word superpowers with finger quotes— “all they’ve seem to have done is make you lazy. You’ve gained weight … and we never seem to have a meaningful conversation anymore.”

“I’ll lose the weight once we get back to Earth, and as far as having a conversation, what do you want to talk about? It seems every time we start any kind of discussion it disintegrates into a shouting match, and usually about Arieel Bol and the imaginary affair we’re having, even from nine thousand light-years apart.”

“I know the two of you have been talking, telepathically or through the CW. And the fact that you can do it without moving your frickin lips really pisses me off!”

“I’ve offered to have you get the implant too, but you keep refusing. You know I can’t do this job alone. You’re just being selfish for not agreeing to the procedure.”

“What, so I, too, can be wired into your exclusive little network with Miss I’m-Too-Sexy-For-The-Galaxy? No thanks. I value my privacy too much.”

“It’s not like that, Sherri. She can’t read my mind and I can’t read hers. I keep telling you that, and you keep refusing to listen. We can communicate through the devices, but only when we choose.”

“Like just now?”

“No, I was practicing controlling the ship remotely – until you came barging in. There’s still a lot I have to learn about the device; that’s something else you refuse to understand. This thing inside me can do a lot more than simply turn switches on and off. To be effective, I need to know all it can do.”

Sherri turned away in a huff and plopped down in her favorite chair in the lounge, an over-padded recliner Adam and his group had found two years ago at the abandoned Human military base on Juir. It was well-worn and extremely comfortable, and Sherri sank into the cushions while hanging a leg over one of the chair’s wide arms. She was silent for a full minute before speaking again.

“I don’t know, Adam,” she began slowly, her voice more controlled than before. “It’s the commitment I fear … I think that’s what it is. If I had the same device implanted, giving me control over all the electronics within a half mile or so, then I’d have to commit to using and to joining you – and Arieel – in your crusade against evil throughout the galaxy. Do you know how hokie that sounds? It’s like something out of a comic book.”

“It’s true, however,” Adam said. “McCarthy may be dead, but his people know how to build the cheap knock-off devices like he had. What if thousands of those things suddenly appear throughout the galaxy? No computer would be secure – no locks, no banks … nothing. The only way to counter that is to have people like us tracking them down and stopping them.”

“But you have no evidence anything like that has happened.”

“Not yet, but McCarthy’s only been dead for about four months. We don’t know where his base is, or what the rest of his engineers and mercenaries are planning. He said he had an army of a hundred Humans, yet he only used twenty in attacking Pyrum-3. Somewhere there are another eighty Humans – all deadly mercenaries – along with a group of scientists with the knowledge to build artificial telepathy devices. If that doesn’t make you nervous then I don’t know what will?”

“It’s not that, Adam.” She hesitated again before continuing, “I just thought that with this trip back to Earth we might decide to stay … for good this time. I can see now that’s not going to happen, at least not for you.”

Adam was afraid of this. Before leaving for Earth, the two of them had discussed his newfound responsibilities at length. He thought she understood and had come to terms with it. Apparently she was simply suppressing her true feelings or hoping he’d change his mind.

“You know, I do have an on-off switch for the device. Do you want me to turn it off, permanently?”

“Of course I do!” she cried out. “But that would be stupid and selfish on my part. If what you say does come true, then eventually people with the McCarthy-devices will reach Earth.”

“At that time I’ll just turn it back on – and start kicking some ass!” He flashed a big smile her way.

Sherri knew he wasn’t being serious, but she attempted a weak return smile all the same. “My hero,” she said dryly.

He stood and walked over to the recliner; he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll work it out, Sherri,” he said. “In the meantime, we’re supposed to be on vacation!”

“That will start in another two weeks. I don’t consider being cramped up in this metal tube as being on vacation.”

“Me neither,” Adam said as he stroked her flowing blonde locks. “But in a way it’s like being on vacation. After all, I haven’t killed an alien in months. I think I’m beginning to have withdrawals.”

“Give it time, Adam,” Sherri said, looking up at him with sad eyes. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to feed your addiction soon enough.”

“One can only hope.”

Chapter 8

30 Days Earlier on the planet Duelux…

Daylight was just beginning to flood the vast parade field, carrying with it welcoming warmth and the promise of a glorious autumn day in the city of Morsbog. For several days prior, a thin overcast had filled the sky, keeping temperatures on the chilly side. Dormic Furkril had watched the weather with nervous anticipation as the day of the protest neared. If it were too cold then the crowds would be smaller and the news crews less-interested. With so much already set in motion, the last thing he needed was for the fickle nature of the weather to ruin it all.

Yet whether there were gods or not – Furkril didn’t care one way or the other – it did appear as though fortune would be smiling on him and his co-conspirators this day. It was shaping up to be warm and clear, and already several hundred of his fellow Jusepi had gathered on the field, preparing for the day’s event.

It was being billed as The Children’s Protest, where thousands of Jusepi couples would bring their offspring to march upon the provincial headquarters of the Human occupiers. The underlying meaning of the demonstration would be significant, since Jusepi only produce offspring every five years or so. Children were of paramount importance to the Jusepi, and maybe their calls for independence would be heard by the aliens. There were signs to be carried and songs to be sung, all in support for a return to a time before the tiny creatures from space landed upon the surface of Duelux, the home planet of the Jusepi Tribes. It would be the largest such protest in the five years since the Humans arrived, and Furkril flicked his ears rapidly in approval as he saw the first caravans of news vehicles begin to surround the parade field and unfurl their transmission gear.

The crowds would indeed be large and the coverage throughout the Jusepi Gathering extensive, with the clear weather allowing for the most-stunning visual representations of the events to come. The day would serve its purpose, Furkril kept telling himself, even though the necessity for such drastic steps still made him sick in his gullet. In the long-term his race would be better for the events that would take place today, here in the parade field, as well as at half-a-dozen other locations throughout the Gathering.

He scanned the sky above, knowing full well there was nothing to see – at least not yet. Even so, he knew that several miles away the crews were already boarding their ships and preparing for launch. From his perch on the roof of the Symbiosis Trade Building, Furkril could see across the field to the opposite side and the series of nine buildings that had been donated to the Humans to serve as their regional headquarters. The complex was almost two miles away, so he would be safe where he stood. The parade field was huge and open, devoid of trees, lakes or other encumbrances. The ships would have no trouble finding their targets.

The Senior Tribe Representative lifted a warm cup of milage-dung to his lips and gathered in its steaming sweetness. This dung was from a vintage batch reserved only for the legacy members of his Tribe, and laced with just a hint of Krymean blood.

The essence of the Krymea was a delicacy for the Jusepi ruling class. They were one of the three intelligent alien races the Jusepi had discovered during their brief foray into interstellar travel and colonization – before the Humans came with their superior spacecraft and technology. The other two races served as a very efficient slave labor force for the Jusepi; the Krymea, on the other hand, only served one useful purpose.

As Furkril took another sip of his beverage, he silently thanked the Krymea for their ultimate contribution to the well-being of the Jusepi rulers. Perhaps a Krymean steak is in order for nightmeal – as a celebration of the day’s events, Furkril thought. From this day forward, the Jusepi Tribes would never be the same, and that would indeed be cause for a feast.

* * *

Four sirumons later – the near equivalence of four hours – the parade field before Furkril was literally jammed with occupants, even more than he and his co-conspirators had ever imagined. There were easily a hundred-thousand Jusepi present, with clearly two thirds of them being offspring, the vast majority of which were under twenty-seasons in age. Dozens of news crews now documented the event, broadcasting to every corner of the Gathering and beyond. The transmissions were linked to Continuous-Wormhole communication stations, theoretically making today’s events observable across the entire galaxy – if anyone outside the Gathering was interested. If they weren’t at this time, they soon would be.

The organizers within the protest eventually began to herd the mass of Jusepi children and their parents in the general direction of the Human buildings. Although he could see the structures from where he stood, he couldn’t make out individuals within the distant complex, yet in his hand he held a datapad with a streaming view of the front gate of the compound. A dozen or so Human guards had moved into position, each armed with angry-looking projectile weapons, which seemed to be the preferred armament of the aliens. The Humans looked nervous.

Furkril checked the time marker on the datapad, and as the moment arrived, he looked up into the southern sky just in time to see the first distance dots representing the approaching spacecraft. In a flash they were above the parade field … which suddenly erupted into dozens of gigantic explosions, the end result of the bombardment sent down from the ships streaking past.

A deafening cacophony of screams and cries of pain filled the parade field, as thousands of Jusepi were torn to shreds by the explosions. Clouds of black smoke, mixed with dark brown soil and bloody body parts, were thrown into the air, only to rain down upon the panicked masses as they crushed against one another in a futile attempt to escape the carnage.

But the attacking ships weren’t done. The dozen or so silver disks flew high into the sky, nearly disappearing from view, until they looped back over and came in from the south once again for another strafing run. Thousands more Jusepi were slaughtered.

Then right on time, three oblong Jusepi warships – ancient throwaways acquired from the fringes of the Expansion – appeared from the north, coming to the aid of Furkril’s people. The attacking disks soared high into the air and disappeared – all except one straggler. The Jusepi defenders sent out three lashing bolts of blue energy at their target, striking the disk-shaped spacecraft directly on its underbelly; the craft wobbled, and then began a slow descent toward the surface.

It struck near the center of the parade field, crushing dozens of more fleeing Jusepi as it did, and even before it had come to a complete rest, hundreds of angry Jusepi were already climbing the smoking hull and attempting to rip open the hatchway to the inside. Furkril nodded his approval as the hatch opened on its own, and the vengeful horde poured inside.

Moments later, they began to pull out the already dead bodies of several Humans … just as the new crews closed in for a better look.

This would be indisputable proof as to the identity of the attackers, broadcast live throughout the Gathering … and all the way to Earth.

Furkril looked down at his datapad. The second phase of the plan was just about to begin….

* * *

The Human military maintained three bases within the Jusepi Gathering, two on Duelux and a third on a hostile, heavy-gravity world requiring an underground complex to shelter it from the elements. The alien fleet numbered one-hundred-twelve ships, mostly small class A’s with crews of twenty-five. When the Humans first arrived in the region, they had maintained a high level of readiness and security within their bases, yet over the years – and with no overt resistance from the Jusepi – things had relaxed considerably.

So, when the Jusepi Highorder complained to the Humans that radiation leaks had been detected coming from their ships, they had quickly agreed to allow outside inspectors aboard their ships. The Humans knew there were no leaks, so they had nothing to fear from the surveys. They recalled all their ships from their current assignments and landed them at the three bases. Jusepi inspectors then boarded the ships, carrying with them an array of testing equipment – or so it appeared.

An hour after the first attacking disks appeared in the skies above the Morsbog parade field, the Jusepi aboard the Human ships withdrew needle-lasers and summarily executed every Human they could find. The Klin had provided the weapons, assuring the Jusepi that the lasers would kill the Humans, contrary to the myths of Human invulnerability to energy weapons.

Within minutes, Jusepi operatives were in control of all one-hundred twelve advanced warships, and now crewed by Jusepi, these ships launched and immediately laid waste to the three Human military bases, killing hundreds of additional Humans in the process.

* * *

Furkril scanned the datapad a few minutes later and his ears flickered even more rapidly, as the reports of the successful attack on the Human military bases began to filter in. From start to finish, the elimination of Human military forces from within the Gathering had taken less than a sirumon. And not only that, but now his forces were in control of over a hundred of the most-advanced warships in the galaxy. When coupled with their current inventory – including the hidden fleet provided by the Klin – the Jusepi Tribes now ranked as one of the most-powerful military forces in this part of the galaxy.

And soon the planners of the day’s revolt would have all the Jusepi public on their side, and the cry for vengeance would rise up as the sickening images of the bloody massacre in the parade field were broadcast continuously throughout the Gathering.

Furkril and his allies would have their war, and with the backing of the mysterious Klin, the Jusepi would soon become the new rulers of what the Klin called the Far Arm – and with Dormic Furkril as Chief of the Highorder.

He looked down at the thousands of shattered bodies littering the field below and experienced a surprising emotional detachment. He didn’t bother with trying to understand his lack of compassion for his fellow Jusepi; rather all he could think of was his legacy for generations to come. This was a major turning point for the Jusepi, and it would be Furkril who would lead them to glory and power. To that end, sacrifices had to be made, and the dead and dying on the field below would ultimately serve their purpose for the greater good of the Jusepi Tribes.

For his part, Furkril felt no guilt or shame for his actions. It was for this same greater good that he did the things he did, and with plenty of good left over for Furkril and his brood.

Chapter 9

29 Days Earlier on Earth…

A decade ago, when establishing the form of government that would lead the Human race during the construction of their stellar empire, the organizers had gone out of their way not to place a single person in charge of it all. It was argued that with Human nature as it is, this person would in essence become an emperor, and with all the trappings of power that the title would suggest. Even though there would be ample checks and balances put in place through a hybrid form of representative government, comprised of a cross between a congress and a parliament, all that power in the hands of a single person was bound to have an effect.

Instead, the organizers decided on a governing council consisting of three people; two chosen by the representatives of both chambers of the New Congress, with the third member selected by popular vote.

This arrangement worked fairly well – at least initially – until it was noticed that the two councilmembers chosen by the governing bodies often colluded to form a voting block against the lone outsider, the person selected by the people. After a few tense years of negotiation, a compromise was reached, and from then on most major decisions would be voted upon by a five-member board made up of the three Councilmembers, along with two others also drawn from the houses of government. Even though four voting members now came from the New Congress, it was very difficult to form a three-to-two coalition if the purpose was simply to dominate a particular segment of the electorate.

Even though this still left a lot of power in the hands of a few individuals, and was in reality governance by consensus, it proved to be effective, if somewhat slow and methodical.

The founders also negated some of this concentration of power by limiting Councilmembers to only one six-year term each. With this restriction, there was no need for them to cater to the wishes of special interest groups in order to raise money for reelection campaigns. They could therefore devote one hundred percent of their efforts to governing without being all the usual distractions associated with fundraising and campaigning.

Even though governments around the world ceased to exist – to be replaced by the all-encompassing World Governing Authority – many people around the planet embraced the opportunity to start fresh. They were thrilled with the chance of designing a new system of law and order based on several hundred years of experience with other forms of representative democracy.

Over the next few years, the WGA would oversee an ever-growing stellar empire comprised of more aliens than Humans. Yet even from the very beginning there had never been any serious consideration given to making the member alien planets the equal of the Humans within the new government. After all, why create an empire if all you’re going to do is relinquish power to the creatures you’ve discovered and allowed to join your organization? Just from their sheer numbers, the aliens would ultimately have greater voting representation within the government if they were allowed and equal standing.

So, the Humans maintained absolute control over the growing Solar Alliance – as the empire was officially termed – and served more in the role of advisors and counselors to their alien members. They would assist in developing more prosperity and a better standard of living for their members – and almost exclusively through a plethora of Human-designed, -built and -sold products and services. Corporate Earth loved this arrangement, as did the general population who found their labor in high demand and more valuable than ever before.

Still, as a concession to the alien-rights crowd, the WGA did allow a Commission of Extraterrestrials to be established to represent the alien point-of-view before the Governing Council. But beyond that, the alien members of the Alliance had next to zero influence on the operations of the Alliance.

With the advent of gravity-drives and highly-efficient chemical engines on spacecraft, major governmental facilities were no longer exclusively located along coastal regions. With the major American cities of New York and Los Angeles having been destroyed by the Juireans years ago – along with hundreds of other foreign cities across the globe – the wide open space around the city of Phoenix, Arizona, was chosen as the seat of this new world government. Almost overnight vast spaceports sprung up in the desert surrounding the massive cluster of buildings of the WGA Complex, and the clear desert air and pleasant weather soon turned the already-thriving city into the hub of the new Solar Alliance. At its peak, nearly fifty million Humans called Phoenix home.

In addition to the land-based Complex outside the desert city, eight incredibly huge flying disks occupied orbits around the planet, habitats for the representatives of the various alien races being incorporated into the Solar Alliance. This arrangement was a necessity, since very few of the new races discovered could tolerate Earth’s gravity. These orbiting stations were designed to accommodate the various gravity and atmospheric requirements of the alien members.

The Jusepi Consulate was located aboard one of these gigantic orbiting stations, and when word of the revolt reached Earth, the Jusepi representatives aboard showed no shock or surprise. Instead they simply surrendered themselves to the Humans without incident.

* * *

David Charlton was the duly-elected Representative of the People, a position which had evolved to carry more symbolic clout than seats on the Council – even though the other Members would adamantly argue there was no such distinction. With the term-limit placed on the office, Charlton was actually only the second person to hold the office, and the first to hold it in its present form for a near-full term since the re-organization efforts of seven years earlier.

Charlton was Canadian by birth, though officially his country of origin no longer existed. With mankind now taking a more universal view when it came to their planet, it didn’t make sense to keep the world fragmented into multiple geopolitical or even ethnic designations. So borders were erased and the planet Earth became one single entity, the home planet of the Human race.

However, David Charlton would often smile when this topic came up on an official level, since he knew full-well that the people still retained their own self-identities, no matter what the maps showed or what politically-correct term d’jour was being used. One couldn’t simply legislate away thousands of years of nationalistic or ethnic identity, pride and heritage.

When the Jusepi Situation first appeared on the docket, Charlton had just returned from a tour of the three nearest member-planets in the Alliance. This had been his first trip to an alien world, and the journey had been a shock to his system. Even though he kept telling himself that these creatures had developed through entirely different evolutionary paths to his, to Charlton the experience had been so alien to his perceptions.

In fact, the trip had shaken those perceptions to the core, even though mankind had been involved with alien races for going on a dozen years already. In fact, Charlton had met more than his share of aliens as a consequence of his office. Yet this had been the first time he’d experienced them in their natural environment, and that made all the difference. And this went far beyond variances in culture, language and appearance; these beings were perfectly content with the way their societies functioned and showed very little interest in changing. In fact, to the aliens it was often the Humans who were the disgusting and vile creatures.

Charlton knew that the future of mankind lay among the stars – there was no turning back now. It was just that most of the people of Earth had no idea that harmonious and respectful co-existence with the alien universe was a fantasy, at least in Charlton’s opinion. The immense divide of biological and cultural differences that existed between the races could never be bridged. And it wasn’t just the Humans standing in the way. The aliens had shown absolutely no move towards an acceptance of Human culture, let alone conforming to it. To them, we would always be the aliens, just as they are to us.

David Charlton seldom engaged in such fruitless mental exercises – until recently – and he wondered how his newfound perspective would affect his decision-making. If anything, it made him more pragmatic. The universe would take care of itself, as it had long before mankind ever joined the parade.

So David Charlton would take care of the universe most-important to him – the universe of David Charlton. Beyond that, he really didn’t give a damn.

Chapter 10

David Charlton…

The meeting Charlton was to chair, addressing the Jusepi Situation – it was his turn to sit at the head of the table – was to be held in the A-4 Security Room in the massive World Headquarters Complex in the desert outside of Phoenix. Attending the meeting would be the other two Councilmembers, Aaron Johnson and Ted Hill, along with the supplemental reps from the governing bodies, Eric Benson and Kate Arnold. Even though the final decisions would be made by these five individuals, each person arrived for the meeting with their full entourage of advisors and experts. The A-4 Security Room was large, yet even now, over a hundred people were positioned behind the five seated representatives of the Human race, making for a very packed house.

Charlton called the meeting to order, and after reading a brief outline detailing the purpose for the meeting, he turned to General Russell Blake for the latest on the Jusepi Situation.

“Members of the Council, and Representatives, the situation in the Duelux system and the surrounding region of space is very serious. To date, we have lost all three of our bases, plus four smaller outposts out to around two hundred light-years from the Jusepi home system.”

“They’ve already struck that far out?” Kate Arnold asked, shocked at the news.

“Yes, Madam Representative. All Humans within that sphere have been either killed or are missing. This includes hundreds of merchants and trade representatives, as well as even a few tourists who were in the area at the time. The Jusepi have spared no one, as far as we can tell. It has turned into an overt extermination of all things Human.”

“And this all came about because of a massacre we committed on the Jusepi people?” Councilmember Johnson looked up from his notes. “It says it was a peaceful march by mainly Jusepi children.” He looked directly at the General. “I’ve seen the video; how could this have happened, General Blake?”

Charlton could see Blake inhale sharply, trying to calm his anger. For a full twenty-four hours – ever since the first videos had hit the airwaves – the military had been fending off barrage after barrage of accusatory questions regarding the attack. Billions of people across the planet, as well as countless billions of other creatures within the Solar Alliance, had seen the Jusepi pull the dead Humans from the attacking spaceship. To a vast majority of the Solar Alliance, this was proof positive as to who was behind the horrific attack.

But General Blake knew better; trying to convince the politicians in the room – plus the mass of others throughout the Arm – that had become the real challenge.

“Councilmember Johnson, I assure you no Humans were involved in the attack, contrary to what the videos show.”

“Were those not Humans pulled from that spaceship? And was that not one of your ships that crashed on the parade field?”

“The bodies pulled from the wreckage were Human, but it’s our belief that they were already dead before the crash and had been planted there by the Jusepi. Also, prior to the attack, all of our ships were accounted for, so even though the attacking vessels resembled Earth-built saucers, they were not our ships … as you call them.”

“So you’re saying the Jusepi orchestrated this entire massacre? And why would they do that?”

“Yes, we do believe that the Jusepi planned and executed this event—”

“And killed an estimated five thousand of their own people, including over four thousand children!”

“If you will allow me continue, sir.” The General was growing ever-more impatient with the grandstanding politician. “This attack took place during a mass-protest over our continued presence in the region, and it’s obvious from the size of the crowd that a majority of the Jusepi people share the feelings of the protesters. By staging an event such as this, those behind this massacre have garnered even more public support for a purging of all Humans from the region – by whatever means. It would also throw public opinion against us and in favor of the Jusepi throughout the Alliance, as is apparent even within this room.”

“I beg your pardon, General,” Johnson said as his face grew to a near-glowing red. “All you have to go by are your suspicions. I, on the other hand, have visual proof.”

“As I said, no Human ships were used in this attack, so even though Humans were pulled from the wreckage, that doesn’t prove they were at the controls of the attacking spaceship.”

“Yet can you be one hundred percent sure that all your ships were accounted for at the time of the attack? You’re here on Earth, and all of our bases in the region have since been overrun.”

General Blake looked over at Charlton, as if to say, ‘Get this asshole off my back so I can complete my report.’

“Councilmember Johnson,” Charlton said. “Could you please let the General complete his report? There will be plenty of time for questions after he’s finished.”

Johnson set his pen down on the table and held up his hands in an exaggerated display of exasperation. “Go ahead, General, by all means … finish your report.” Johnson’s tone spoke volumes, essentially saying I don’t care what the hell you have to say, you war-mongering son-of-a-bitch. I’ve already made up my mind.

So Johnson is a no vote, Charlton thought. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.

“Thank you,” Blake said, more to Charlton than to Johnson. “If we look beyond the initial attack and at the commandeering of our fleet, it becomes obvious that this event was planned well in advance. The charge of radiation leaks from within our fleet happened weeks before the event, and the so-called inspectors were armed with weapons and prepared to kill every Human aboard our ships. This could not have been the result of a spontaneous reaction to the massacre at the parade field. The timing doesn’t fit.”

All eyes turned to Aaron Johnson. He shuffled in his seat but remained silent.

Once the proper amount of time had passed for the humiliation to sink in, the General continued. “The Jusepi now have a fleet numbering around two- to three-hundred ships. Reports show that some of these additional spacecraft are of advanced design, similar to Human-quality vessels; however, we have not been able to detect any manufacturing facilities on any of the planets controlled by the Jusepi that would account for these new warships.”

David Charlton sat up straighter in his seat. “Are you saying they’ve been supplied with these other ships?”

“It’s the only conclusion we can reach, Mr. Charlton. They had to be built somewhere, and it wasn’t by the Jusepi.”

“Who would do this…?” Even as he asked the question, he knew the obvious answer. His heart began to pound rapidly and he was sure his face was flushing as well. Would anyone notice?

“We believe it was the Klin, Mr. Charlton.”

“Why not the Kracori … or even the Juireans?” Johnson had found his voice again.

“We believe it would be against the practice of the Kracori to relinquish control of their spacecraft to alien crews. If they had ships in the region, these would undoubtedly be manned by Kracori. We have no evidence of this. These ships are manned by Jusepi. And the Juireans … they would have no incentive to get involved in a regional war on the opposite side of the galaxy from them, as well as risk any response we would send against allies of the Jusepi.

“This strategy fits the Klin much better,” the General continued. “They have the means of manufacturing advanced warships, yet never participate in the actual battles themselves. They are content to foment tensions and to supply the warring parties, often both sides at once.”

“So what’s their end game, General?” Ted Hill asked. Several of his advisors were chattering his ear, so he was having trouble hearing the General’s full presentation. Eventually he turned to his advisors and told them – in no uncertain terms – to back off.

“The Jusepi or the Klin, Mr. Hill?”

“Both.”

“If the Klin are behind this revolt, and they are supplying the Jusepi with weapons and materiel, then they may believe the Jusepi could become a threat to us. The Klin would like nothing more than the destruction of the Human race.”

“Are the Jusepi really that big of a threat?”

“Not at all, Mr. Hill … even with the help of the Klin.”

“You sound confident, General Blake,” Representative Aaron Johnson said, contempt thick in his voice.

“Mr. Johnson, our fleet is over four-thousand ships strong; theirs less than three hundred. And with the recent intel regarding the location of the Kracori homeworld of Elision, we’ll be increasing our strength in preparation for that campaign.”

“Could these two events be related?” Charlton asked. “I mean the coincidence of the Jusepi uprising right at the time we’re preparing to attack Elision?”

“That is a very real possibility, if the Klin and the Kracori are allies again.”

“So this could be a delaying tactic, maybe something to give the Kracori time to prepare for our assault?”

“But that would mean the Kracori know we’ve learned the location of Elision,” Kate Arnold pointed out before the General could reply to the previous question.

General Blake nodded and pursed his lips. “There has always been a very real suspicion that we didn’t purge all the Klin spies from the planet; however we never had a way to know for sure. This could be the proof we need … proof that spies are still operating within the Human community and obviously within highly-placed positions.”

David Charlton had heard enough. If he let the discussion go on, more questions about who would benefit from a Human-Jusepi war might be asked.

“General, as well as my fellow Councilmembers and Representatives, we now have a decision to make,” he said forcefully. “I think we all know what’s happening here. The Jusepi Situation must be dealt with, whether they are being assisted by the Klin or not. Whoever their allies may be, they appear to have ambitions beyond simply removing all Humans from their space. It’s my belief that they will continue to advance into other parts of the Solar Alliance until they’re stopped.

“In addition, if this revolt has been a concoction of the K’s to delay our attack upon Elision, then the Kracori must believe they can build a sufficient defense to ward off our attack while we address the Jusepi crisis.”

“Then we can’t delay,” stated Eric Benson, the other representative of the World Governing Bodies. “We can’t let the Kracori have the time they need to mount an effective defense. We must attack Elision now.”

“But what about the Jusepi?” Aaron Johnson asked. “We can’t let them continue to spread from system to system doing whatever they please.”

So he finally admits the Jusepi are a danger, Charlton thought. Progress is being made.

“They must be dealt with first, before we launch against the Kracori,” Charlton said decisively.

“I say split our forces,” Ted Hill offered. “Send an adequate force against the Jusepi and the rest to Elision. That way we can deal with both situations simultaneously.”

Charlton looked to General Blake for a reply. The General slowly shook his head. “That would not be a wise move, Mr. Hill. The Jusepi may be small in number yet their forces are spreading out in multiple directions within the Alliance. There’ll be no major decisive battle for victory. Each of the individual alien units will have to be tracked down and destroyed, requiring more ships than would normally be required against an enemy of this strength. And we surely cannot launch against the Kracori unless we are at maximum strength – and more. If the location of Elision is verified, then our fleet and all support vessels will be required to travel nine thousand light-years from the Earth and strike an enemy on their home ground – and who’ve had time to prepare for our assault. The force we send against Elision must be overwhelming, that much is certain. It will be better to have too much strength in the region than not enough.”

“So what do you suggest, General?” Charlton asked. Here it comes!

Without hesitation the General answered. “I recommend we send everything we can muster against the Jusepi now and end this revolt in the shortest time possible. This will also serve as a live-fire training exercise for the fleet for when we go against the Kracori. At that time, we will already have a substantial force assembled and battle-ready. After the Jusepi are contained, then the fleet can launch against the Kracori in short order, and supplemented by additional units we currently have under construction. If the K’s are expecting a more drawn-out campaign against the Jusepi, then we just may catch them before they can complete their defenses.”

“Would that include the Earth defenses, General?” Kate Arnold inquired.

“Everything, Madam Representative. Eventually we would pull these forces to add to the fleet going to Elision. All we’re doing now is assembling the Elision fleet early and then diverting it to the Jusepi crisis first. Any reduction in fleet strength would only delay our victory against the Jusepi and allow the Kracori more time to mount a defense.”

“So the Earth would be left defenseless?”

“We would still have the land-based defenses, as well as local police forces. But according to our latest threat-assessment, the Jusepi are the only ones on the list, and they will be dealt with long before they reach the Earth.”

There were murmurs around the room, as advisors moved up to their clients and the internal debate began. After ten minutes of chaotic conversation in the echoing chamber, David Charlton gaveled for silence.

“It’s time for a vote,” he announced. “To debate further will only give our enemies more time to prepare. The vote will be on whether or not to follow General Blake’s recommendation that we assemble our fleet now and send it against the Jusepi. Once that campaign is complete, it will then be deployed to Elision … assuming the location of the planet can be verified by then. I will start the voting; I vote yes.”

The final tally was four to one, with only Aaron Johnson dissenting. No surprise there.

* * *

Later that day, David Charlton eventually shrugged off all his advisors and escorts and returned to his office on the ninetieth-floor of the Administration Building. He closed the door, poured a whiskey neat and then reclined on the soft leather sofa across the vast room from his desk. He downed the drink in two deep gulps and then rested the empty glass on his stomach.

He’d done it! And the discussion he’d had earlier with General Blake had convinced the senior military officer as to the logic of his argument. After that, the General had played his part perfectly.

But more than that, the plan also made sense – which was the strangest part of it all. Could this be revenge on the Kracori for the revolt they staged against the Klin over ten years ago? Is that why his handlers had recommended this course of action? When all was said and done, it seemed as though only the Kracori would suffer the most from today’s vote, which was fine by him. Using the Jusepi Situation as a delaying tactic obviously meant that the Kracori were ill-prepared for an assault on their homeworld, at least at this time. It made sense then to deal with the Jusepi quickly … and then send the fleet to Elision.

When all the facts were taken into consideration, he probably would have recommended the same plan on his own. So why the bribe? Of course, Charlton wasn’t going to delve too deeply into the motivations of his handlers. He stood to make out quite nicely for taking a line-of-action he probably would have taken anyway. It was a no-lose proposition.

Even so, whiskey helped to calm his nerves.

For a moment in the meeting, David Charlton had been genuinely scared. Besides the potential loss of such a huge fortune if the vote had gone the other way, his own paranoia made him believe that everyone in the room knew of his subterfuge. He had never taken a bribe before, which he knew was unusual for a politician. But for this he blamed the system. Nowhere in the lower offices did term-limits apply. Yet for him, it was one-and-out. As a consequence, he didn’t even have the opportunity to solicit contributions from donors for reelection, money which could easily be diverted to enhance his future living arrangements. And even to corporate lobbyists, he was a lame-duck from the first day in office, so even they couldn’t lavish him with money for his support in the disguise of campaign contributions. Any large sums of money showing up by traditional means in the accounts of a Councilmember would be a clear red-flag of wrongdoing.

Yet these funds were coming from off-shore – really off-shore – which had been one of the reasons for his depressing tour of the three alien worlds. Special banks on one of them would retain his two-hundred million dollars-worth of gold bullion, hidden away from all prying Human eyes or efforts to trace. And the source of the commodity did not come from the Earth, or at least that’s what he was told. That made the gold doubly-blind and secure. He had even briefly contemplated retiring to one of these exotic lands – until he went on his recently tour. The thought now only made him shudder.

He had to face it; David Charlton was a Human through and through, and as such he would find some peaceful corner of the planet Earth to call his retirement home. He still had to figure out how he’d keep the money sheltered as he spent it, but that was just a detail now, something he would devote more thought to later.

Right now he thought about another whiskey. After all, today was a day to celebrate!

Chapter 11

Present Day Aboard the Ifrit…

Even though the deal with the two aliens had been struck, Ruszel still insisted that their cover story be played out fully. So, Riyad was required to land on the surface of Lucon-Por and dispose of all his monitoring devices. He had been informed that the trade convoy would only be at Lucon-Por for a day before heading back out, and once they were detached from the rest of the ships, the journey to the Dysion Void would take about nine days … a fact Ruszel quickly amended to only four when considering the capabilities of Riyad’s ship.

Although Riyad was on a deadline to accomplish his mission, the timeline still fit, even with the stopover on Lucon-Por. He was actually thrilled at the turn of events. He had guides now who would help him learn the truth behind the McCarthy Coordinates.

* * *

Of the sixty ships in the convoy, only three were small enough to make landfall, with the Ifrit being the smallest by far. As they began their descent, young Canos had filled him in about the planet.

Lucon-Por was a standard-sized world with a surface gravity rated at 1.08 that of Juirean-standard. With the Nebulites – Riyad’s term, not theirs – animosity for anything Expansion-related, he was surprised they would even use standard Juirean gravity ratings. The other odd thing about Lucon-Por was that it had a single landmass, and one not much larger than Australia on Earth. On this large island, lived over two billion people, making for very crowded conditions. What this also meant was that there was no extra space left for mining, farming or other common endeavors necessary for a population this large to sustain itself. Therefore, the natives of Lucon-Por relied almost solely on outside trade to provide them with the necessities of life.

The Ifrit landed at the island’s main spaceport, already crowded with vessels because of its relatively small size for the number of craft that were coming and going. Even though the vast bulk of the trade ships were too large to land, they all sent shuttles, and in many cases, several at a time, bringing with them the items they carried for sale. On Convoy Day, the place was packed.

Outside the landing field was what appeared to be a permanent flea-market, vast in scope and containing thousands of open-air booths and trade stations designed to process the constant flood of merchandise coming onto the planet. Riyad wondered how the Lucon-Pors got the money to pay for all these goods, since no one had mentioned what the natives sold back to the Guild. Since his role as a merchant-trader was only a cover, he didn’t have enough interest to inquire any further. Obviously, the natives did produce something of value otherwise all these traders wouldn’t be here all hocking their goods.

Once the Ifrit had settled to the surface and the engines cooled, another alien – this one rather short and stocky with skin of a faint purplish color – arrived at the ship and immediately proceeded to enter into a heated argument with Ruszel. From the few words Riyad could pick out this was the permanent pilot and he was very upset that he was not to receive his commission. However, once Ruszel convinced him that even if he did take over, it would only be for a return trip to Tel’or, the purple alien finally stopped protesting and eventually stalked off, dragging his long duffle bag behind him.

Canos joined Riyad in the small cargo hold and surveyed his supply of medical monitors. Again, the young alien expressed his disbelief that all he had were these three hundred units. “Yes, they do appear to be very nice models. I will direct you to the proper section of the clearinghouse where I’m sure you will find a ready buyer. You do realize that if you had more of these units – and could complete the entire circuit – you could leave with almost half a million ruiens.”

“No shit?”

“You seem to use that phrase a lot in your native language, and although I have heard you explain the meaning to Ruszel, I fail to understand the origins of the saying.”

Riyad smiled. “I, too, Canos; it’s just something that evolved over time.”

Ruszel joined them in the hold. “The pilot is convinced we are returning to Tel’or, although he is not happy. He had been planning on the larger commission for the circuit. Now he will help guide local mining operations in the asteroids, an assignment that does not pay nearly as much as a trade circuit.”

“So mining is how the natives make their money – their credits? I was beginning to wonder.”

The aliens turned to each with expressions of confusion. Finally Canos responded. “Mining … no. That is simply a minor part of the economy, and traditionally carried out by larger, out-system firms.”

“So how the hell do they make their credits?” Riyad was growing frustrated. He really didn’t care, but now he was determined to find out.

“Slaves, Riyad. They sell slaves.”

“No sh … I mean, is that true? And there’s a market for it within the nebula?”

“Of course; Lucon slaves are much sought after, especially the females. They are compatible with over half the races in the Nebula, not for procreation, but for pleasure.”

“They sell their own kind!”

“Why are you so shocked? The planet is very overcrowded. Selling slaves helps reduce the population and keeps the economy active. And those sold as slaves are very pleased with the arrangement. They are usually treated as prized-possessions and provided with better living conditions than on their homeworld. There are long waiting lists to be considered for the slave trade.”

Riyad shook his head, trying to imagine how any people would voluntarily offer themselves up as slaves. Yet he knew next to nothing regarding the planet Lucon-Por. Maybe it was a decision based on the lesser of two evils. He tried to shake off the feeling of disgust that had settled over him, as if he were somehow guilty just for discussing the issue. He turned back to the stack of medical monitors.

“Should I take only a few with me or all at the same time?”

Canos smiled. “Take them all. You will sell the lot at the first stop.”

“Maybe not,” Ruszel countered. “Unless he can provide thousands more, the buyers may not want to commit to so few, not without the promise of more.”

“So I’ll promise them more. How will they know if I’ll keep my promise or not?”

Ruszel cast him a hard, steady glare. “Deception comes easy for you Klingons, does it not?”

Klingons? Oh, yeah, that’s right. I’m still using them as my cover race.

“We are creatures of commerce, and as such, we usually say what is necessary to make a sale.”

“You lie then.”

“Just as you are doing about our return to Tel’or.” He watched the embarrassed looks on the faces of the two aliens. “Relax,” he said with a grin, “intelligent races will usually improvise the truth to fit the situation. It’s a survival trait. Now, let’s get this show on the road. I want to get going for the Void as soon as possible.”

Again, Riyad saw the confusion, as the aliens wondered about the show that was to be taken on the road and how that applied to their current situation. Finally they gave up and let it pass. They were already having a hard enough time understanding Riyad and his ways. Language was just one of the hurdles they struggled with. There would be others.

Chapter 12

Aboard the Pegasus…

Sherri felt Adam’s hand tense as he stroked her hair. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re losing well-integrity,” Adam’s voice was as tense as his hand.

“The generators?”

“No … it’s being overloaded. This is not good.”

The two of them ran out of the lounge and toward the pilothouse. Adam knew that an overloaded gravity-well was extremely dangerous, especially the wells produced by the concentrated-array employed by the Pegasus.

He slipped into the pilot’s seat while Sherri took up a position at the navigator’s station. Already his telepathy device was feeding him data from the ship’s monitors, and actually faster than he could take it in. The device imbedded under his right armpit was in constant communication with all the ship’s electronics; it could weed out the everyday and commonplace from the critical and only report to him those that were the most-urgent. However, at this particular moment, it seemed as though all the ship’s systems were screaming in his brain, Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!

The input into his brain soon became such a jumble of overlapping alerts and warnings that he couldn’t take it anymore. He reached behind his back and turned off the telepathy device using the pressure switch located just under the skin at the pit of his back.

The sensation of breaking the connection was always a jolt, feeling as if his senses had suddenly switched from high-definition 3-D to 1950’s black and white. It was like he just lost a vital part of his awareness and vision, which in reality is just what happened. Even as he began to manually monitor the well-integrity from his station, he was amazed at how quickly he’d adapted to the added senses the device provided and knowing eventually he’d have to find a way of screening the incoming data down to a more manageable level. After all, it didn’t make sense to turn off the device in a time of crisis, not when it was needed the most.

However, as he scanned the data on his screen, it didn’t take a super high-tech device to tell him what the problem was: the gravity-well was taking in too much material … yet according to the charts, this shouldn’t be happening. The Pegasus was currently transiting a region of space near the star Adenion, and it should have been clear of any superfluous matter. At least that’s what the charts showed.

“We’re in some kind of dense debris field,” Sherri called out from her station. “It’s not on the charts … and damn, it seems to cover almost the entire system!”

“I see that,” Adam said. “This place has been shredded.”

“What about the well; how bad is it?”

Adam watched his screen as red lights began flashing on every sensor. “At this rate of absorption we could be in real trouble. We’re approaching critical mass.”

Sherri had never piloted a spacecraft before – content to let the guys do all the driving – so she was not even aware that a gravity-well could overload.

“What does that mean? Won’t it just dissolve if it takes in too much matter?”

“Not necessarily. We have a microscopic blackhole sitting about four hundred yards from us. When regular blackholes take in too much stuff, they expel the extra material in the form of a gamma ray burst.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not. Gamma ray bursts can fry us where we sit,” Adam said. “We were warned about this when the ship was designed. The array focuses such a concentrated amount of energy in a small space that we’re able to establish really deep wells very close to the ship. This allows us to move through star systems a lot faster than any other type of ship. But having all that energy so close does have its risks.”

“I know how the drive works, Adam,” Sherri said, sounding perturbed. “So just shut it down.”

“I can’t do that,” Adam declared, as he turned back to his screen. “The well’s been clearing the debris field ahead of us, and if I dissolve it now, we’d still be carrying so much momentum that even the smallest particles outside would pulverize us.” The frown lines on his forehead were becoming canyons.

“But if we can’t do that ….” Sherri let her sentence trail off, at a loss as to what else to say.

“Yeah … it’ll continue to suck in matter until it reaches the point of no return, and then boom, we’re toast – literally.”

“How long do we have?”

Adam had been watching the energy levels spike on his screen; they were already well past the red danger mark. “Could be any time.” Adam’s voice was trembling, and even though he wanted to maintain the strong, macho front for Sherri, he knew she was smart enough to know the truth.

“So where did all this crap come from?” Sherri asked.

“I don’t know. Something huge passed through this system and threw the entire gravity balance out of whack. It even looks like some of the smaller moons may have collided and added to the debris.” And then as Adam watched the cloud of space junk on his screen, he thought he saw something, a pattern of some sort to the movement of the debris. It seemed to be flowing in somewhat the same direction.

“So you’re saying a ship on deep-well shot through here—”

“Wait one!” Adam said holding up his hand. Even through the tension in the room, Sherri shot him an angry look at being interrupted.

“Excuse me!” she shot back.

“Please, Sherri, I think I’ve got an idea. Is it just my imagination … or is the debris cloud moving in the same direction?”

Sherri’s navigation computer provided more advanced monitoring of the objects in the general vicinity of the ship. She tapped a few controls, adding trajectory lines to some of the more massive objects. Yes! They were moving in the same direction – more or less – but not all of them. It was still a chaotic mess throughout their monitoring range.

“You’re right,” Sherri said. “About thirty-degrees to the left.”

“Good.” Adam took the control stick and began to ease it over. “Thirty-degrees to port should put us in the stream.”

“What good does that do? The objects aren’t moving at nearly the speed we’d be outside the well.”

Already Adam was punching buttons on his panel. “I’m creating a back-well, something to help slow us down.”

“Great, why didn’t you do that in the first place?”

Adam was getting annoyed at Sherri’s backseat driving. Throughout her time in space – even before the two of them had met – she had never owned a starship or acted as her own pilot. She had always relied on commercial travel until she met up with Adam and Riyad, and then the guys chose to always take the pilot’s seat anytime they went anywhere. It seemed that even thousands of light-years from Earth, old habits and gender prejudices still prevailed.

“I have to pull a couple of the focusing rings from the forward array in order to create the back-well. That means the containment field of the forward-well will drop, and with it already at critical mass, that just means it could reach the point of no return even sooner.”

“So are you sure creating the back-well is such a good idea?”

Even in the heat of the moment, Adam took the time to stop and stare at Sherri. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Sherri opened her mouth to speak, but then changed her mind. She had nothing.

“That’s what I thought.” He turned back to his station. “Now if I can just reduce our forward velocity enough, I can dissolve the well and ease us into the flow of the debris field. The problem is the back-well is also becoming overloaded.”

“What the hell!”

“Trust me; this is going to be tight!”

Suddenly the ship began to vibrate violently, as the two gravity singularities began to battle each other for dominance. For a moment, it felt as if the ship would be torn apart, and even the incredibly strong and advanced internal gravity-wells weren’t doing enough to compensate.

“Hold on, I’m dissolving the internals!” Adam cried out through the deafening sound of the vibration and the creaking of the hull. Suddenly his stomach climbed into his throat as the internal gravity fell away. The sensation only lasted a split second, until the two competing gravity sources, forward and aft, began to have more effect on their bodies.

Sherri cried out in pain, while Adam emitted a low guttural groan of his own. Through eyes seemingly pulled in opposite directions, Adam struggled to watch his screen as their forward momentum began to bleed off rapidly. He noticed, too, that the indicators for both wells were well into the red. It wouldn’t be long before they both went critical!

Finally, he couldn’t wait any longer; he pressed the buttons that cut the generator feed to the singularities.

The sickening feeling of vertigo returned instantly. Adam heard Sherri cough heavily, continuing and nearly evolving into a violent vomiting spell. To her credit, she fought against the urge.

And then they became aware of the loud pinging sounds coming from seemingly every direction.

“We’re being hit!” Sherri called out.

“I’m activating the chemical drive to slow us down even more … rotating the ship.”

As Adam cranked the control stick to starboard, he heard a pronounced increase in the pinging. “We have three hull breaches!” Sherri cried out. “No … now five.”

“Containment?” Adam asked.

“Yep; sealing foam is being disbursed.” The Pegasus contained miles of tubing running throughout her hull which constantly circulated the liquid sealing chemical. If a hull breach occurred near one of these lines, the void between the various layers of the hull would fill with the liquid, which would quickly expand to become a very effective sealing agent. Even in everyday use, hull breaches were a common occurrence aboard all starships.

“Six more holes just –” Sherri was interrupted by a loud ping right in front of her. Both she and Adam looked up at the forward viewscreen and saw a spider-web-like pattern of cracks growing rapidly in the glass window.

“Damn!” Adam said as he reached forward and punched a button on his console. Through the still-cracking glass they watched as the blast shield shot up to cover the opening, while sealing foam quickly flowed into the void between the blast shield and the viewport, averting disaster.

“That could’ve been bad. I should’ve lifted the damn shield before dissolving the wells.”

The chemical drive was blasting at full throttle now as their forward momentum was nearing the velocity of the objects in the debris field. The thuds and pings on the metal hull were less frequent now.

“Looks like your plan worked, macho-man,” Sherri said. “Thanks for saving us – again.”

He looked over at her and produced a wry smile. “Jus doin’ my job, ma’am.”

“Well, Tex, now that we’re somewhat safe, I’ll ask the question again: what caused this to happen?”

Adam turned back to his screen and switched to a view that would detect magnetic influences. “There it is … or more correctly, there they are,” he began. “A whole series of massive gravity waves, just above the plane of the ecliptic.”

“So spaceships did cause this? What fools would pass through a system on full deep-wells? They had to know what they’d do to the system.”

Adam counted the various peaks and troughs of the waves. “It looks like almost twenty waves, maybe more. They were traveling in a line, so it’s hard to tell exactly how many. But they had to be Class-4’s or fives – and on full drive. When they passed they pulled nearly everything in this system smaller than our moon out of orbit and crashing into each other.”

Sherri was at her screen, also punching buttons. “This system isn’t part of the Solar Alliance, but it does have an inhabited planet that’s been contacted by the Authority. The paperwork for making them a member is in the works. According to what I’m seeing here, Humans only have a small presence there.”

“What’s it called and where’s it located?” Adam asked. “We’re going to need repairs before we can continue. And besides, I’d like to see what damage a debris field like this can do to a planet.”

“It’s called Arcton, and it’s about a million miles from here, on this side of the star.” Sherri spent a few seconds leaning in near her screen. “And Adam, they’re right in the middle of the debris field. There’s no way they haven’t been impacted.”

“Impacted is the right word,” Adam said dryly. “Think dinosaur-killing impacted. It could be a real mess. Any information about their technology; will they be able to help … if they’re not already extinct?”

“They’re in the Library,” Sherri replied, “but not a lot of information. They do appear to have industrial capacity – or at least they did before all this.”

“Send me the coordinates; let’s go take a look. In the meantime, let’s check these hull breaches. The sealing foam can only do so much and it’s not a permanent fix.”

“Aye, Captain,” Sherri said with a smile. Adam mirrored her countenance, amazed at how quickly Sherri’s demeanor could change on a dime. She had always been a tough one, although lately she’d been letting her emotions get the best of her. However, in the face of danger Adam knew he could always count on Sherri Valentine when it counted.

* * *

Adam rotated the ship around once again and fired up the chemical drive. He had to be careful not to go too fast, or else they could still end up getting pelted by the slower-moving debris. And now they also had to cut across the flow of the debris field by about ten degrees in order to rendezvous with the planet, and as soon as Adam changed course, the pinging sounds on the hull returned, yet not nearly as intense or with the same results. However, during the nineteen-hour transit to Arcton, eight more hull breaches occurred, including the loss of two focusing rings.

Even though most ships only employed a maximum of four rings, because of the particular design of the Pegasus-drive, missing out on only two rings – out of a total concentrated-array of eight – meant they would operate at a level below even long-haul trawlers, lumbering through space at speeds scarcely higher than on chemical drive.

Before encountering the debris field, their trip to Earth had only two weeks remaining. Now it would take months, if not more. In fact, until Adam had a chance to land the ship and check the full extent of the damage, he wasn’t sure if his ship would ever reach Earth.

Chapter 13

Riyad on Lucon-Por…

All three hundred of the medical monitors were loaded onto an oversize electric cart and Canos drove Riyad into the sprawling and confused mass of the trade union clearinghouse grounds. Riyad had been around a lot of aliens in his day, yet this incredible press of exotic lifeforms staggered even him. The sounds were deafening and the smell overwhelming. He did his best to fight back the urge to vomit, afraid that if he did, one of these disgusting creatures would rush in to quickly lap it up. That thought by itself nearly pushed him over the edge.

Much to his relief, they finally reached their destination. The market for medical devices was a much cleaner and calmer area of the clearinghouse, and he was finally able to determine what a native Lucon looked like. They were very smooth-featured and well-proportioned. They resembled the Tel’or to a degree, with elf-like ears and light greenish skin color, yet not so bumpy. Honestly, these creatures didn’t offend. They were well-groomed and even had a pleasant fragrance to their skin. Riyad stepped off the cart and followed Canos as he approached a waiting Lucon male.

The native looked past the pair and to the near-empty cart. “Have you already sold most of your merchandise?” he asked Canos.

The Tel’oran turned to Riyad. “This is the seller … he is Riyad of Klingon.”

“Then I will ask you, is this all you have to offer? I know not what you carry at this time, but they must be extremely small to take up so little space.”

Riyad carried one of the Formilian devices with him. It resembled a small notebook computer and measured about eight inches by ten inches. “This is an advanced medical monitoring device, capable of thirty-four diagnostics simultaneously. It is of Formilian design, so you know it carries within it the best electronics available.”

The Lucon took the device and looked it over briefly before returning his attention to the cart. “How many of these devices have you brought?”

“I have three hundred.”

The native looked at Canos with a frown. “You are Tel’oran; have you not informed this being that we deal in lots of twenty-thousand or more when it comes to medical devices?”

“I have informed him, yet this is all he carries.”

“I have more available … if you find them acceptable.”

The Lucon shook his head. “I will not even bother. Please take them down the line.”

“But they are the most-advanced model available.”

“Go; I have others to tend to.”

Canos took Riyad by the arm and pulled him away. Riyad was about to lose his temper, now caught up in his cover role as a merchant. Through his Arab heritage he prided himself on being an excellent practitioner of barter transactions. Now this was going to get personal.

“These are really good units!” he said to Canos as they moved to the next booth. He didn’t really know if they were or not, just what he’d been told. But Riyad Tarazi didn’t like to be rejected, especially by aliens.

This same humiliating scene was repeated four more times as he and Canos went down the line. Finally they met a native who did show some interest. He directed them to join him for a private discussion in a small, enclosed cubicle behind his trading booth.

“Your units are very interesting and very advanced. The alien smiled tightly and looked directly into Riyad’s eyes. “Yet I am more curious what else you might have for sale … Human?”

Canos jerked his head in Riyad’s direction. “Human! You’re a Human? I thought you said you were a Klingon?”

Riyad grew deadly serious and moved to block the exit to the small meeting room. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he said to the buyer, his eyes locked on his every movement. “Our races are very similar in appearance, but I am not a Human.”

The Lucon continued to grin. “I have been further into the space beyond the Nebula than most, and I have seen and interacted with Humans personally. You are a Human.”

Riyad looked at Canos, pleading with his eyes for the alien not to do anything stupid. The Tel’oran appeared to be frozen in fear. Good, stay that way.

He turned to the Lucon. “So now what; are you going to sound the alarm?”

“Of course not,” said the almost-jolly alien. “Like I said, I would like to know what exotic Human paraphernalia you may have for purchase. Human merchandise is extremely valuable on the sub-market.”

“I have very little, and nothing really of Human origin. I have been away from Earth for a very long time.”

“What of your projectile weapons? I understand your kind do not travel without them. I’m willing to pay.”

Riyad had intentionally left his assault weapons and handguns on Pyrum-3 in case his ship was searched. Humans were one of only a handful of races in the galaxy who used projectile weapons. To find them on his ship would have instantly blown his cover.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any aboard my ship.” Then he pulled back his waistcoat. “And you see I am unarmed.”

The Lucon narrowed his eyes. “And the medical monitors, they are not of Human origin?”

“No, Formilian.”

The alien shook his head as his smile vanished. “I have Formilian monitors, although not of this superior model. You appear not to have many.”

“I can get more if you’ll just give me a number.” Riyad was getting tired of playing games with this creature. Either they were going to make a deal so he could get back the Ifrit, or else he was going to keep moving down the line.

Just then two other Lucons squeezed into the small room, pressing up against Riyad and staring at him with hard, angry looks.

Riyad looked at the Lucon buyer again. “Have I offended you in some way?”

“No, my Human friend, you have not. It is just that what you have brought to bargain with is such an insignificant amount that I almost feel embarrassed even making you an offer.”

“You would be surprised how little I’d take for the monitors,” Riyad said.

“How about nothing? I take them for no charge.”

“And why would I do that? I could move down the line and eventually I’d sell them.”

“Not if everyone in the clearinghouse realizes you are a Human.”

Riyad bit his bottom lip. “And how would they find that out?”

The Lucon grunted while the wicked grin returned. “I believe you know how this negotiation will progress. I get the monitors for no cost … and I do not alert the authorities that you are a Human, a vile beast who has infiltrated the Nebula. I believe that is a fair trade.”

“And if I refuse?”

The Lucon waved a hand toward the other two natives in the room. “Then I will report you to the authorities, but not before my two symbanors here make a sport of you.”

Riyad looked at the two much-taller aliens. He had no idea what symbanors were, but he also knew he couldn’t risk having this alien report his true identity, whether they came to an agreement or not. And then what would prevent him from calling the alien police once they left the planet?

He took a deep breath, seeing the decision had been made for him the moment the Lucon recognized him as a Human. This would not be pretty, not in these tight quarters. And then there was Canos to consider. He hoped the innocent alien would stay out of the way. He was beginning to like the young Tel’oran.

Riyad tightened his right fist, and in a lightning-quick move, buried it hard into the face of the Lucon to his left. Immediately, he felt the other symbanor grab him from behind. The creature squeezed with all his strength … which only made Riyad laugh. Quick reactions, but another light-gravity weakling. A strategically-placed elbow to the Lucon’s midsection caused him to release Riyad, who then spun around catching the alien’s head under his right arm. He squeezed hard and then jerked upwards, snapping the creature’s neck.

The Lucon buyer had been momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events; now he recovered and began to move toward a hidden back door to the small cubicle; two quick steps and Riyad grabbed the back of alien’s shirt and pulled. The alien fell back, as his entire shirt ripped from his body. Riyad lifted the hairless Lucon by the arm and threw him on top of the small table; the fingers of his right hand digging into the cushy skin of the alien’s neck.

“I will not tell, I promise!” The Lucon’s large brown eyes were now moist with tears.

Riyad squeezed harder. Even though this being smelled of lilacs … and was handsome in an alien sort of way, he still had to die. “I regret this,” Riyad said, “but if you’ve had experience with Humans before then you should have known better than to provoke me.”

The Lucon made some gurgling sound.

“What was that?” Riyad asked, cocking his head. “You really do need to enunciate your words better.” A little tighter and the trachea collapsed; a moment later the alien grew still, his eyes open and frozen in the moment of death.

Panic leapt up in Riyad’s chest; he turned, and was relieved to see Canos still in the room. He released the dead Lucon and approached the Tel’oran. Canos recoiled in fear.

“Relax, Canos,” Riyad said with a smile. “I like you … you have nothing to fear from me.”

“But you are a Human.”

“Don’t believe everything you’ve heard about us.”

“After what I just saw, I cannot help but believe.”

Riyad shrugged. “You have a point there. But for now, help me seal up this room. I wouldn’t want you to be associated with the death of these three. After all, we are partners now, my young Tel’oran friend.”

Canos didn’t seem too pleased with the comment. In fact, Riyad thought he was about to faint….

* * *

Alien and Human left the small cubicle a few minutes later, having done their best to make it appear vacant and the booth unused. They skipped the next five booths so none of the buyers there would remember if asked. At the sixth, Riyad walked hurriedly up to the buyer and placed one of the monitors in his hand.

“I have three hundred more just like this. They’re yours as a gift. If you like them, then I will be back in six months with a shipment of one-hundred thousand more, which I will sell to you exclusively.”

Canos and Riyad quickly unloaded the boxes of monitors in front of the still-speechless alien. Riyad then grabbed Canos by the arm and literally planted him in the passenger seat of the cart. They drove away before the open-mouthed Lucon could say a word.

Chapter 14

Aboard the Ifrit…

Thirty minutes later Riyad and Canos entered the Ifrit and went directly to the pilothouse where Ruszel sat at the pilot’s station.

“That took longer than expected,” Ruszel said. He got out of the seat and let Riyad sit down so he could begin the preparations for lift-off. Then he noticed the look on Canos’s face.

“What happened? Was there a problem?” When Canos opened his mouth but said nothing, he turned to Riyad.

“You’ll probably find out anyway – as soon as young Canos here can speak again.” Riyad turned and looked up at the frowning Tel’oran pilot. “I’m not really a Klingon. In fact Klingons are just an imaginary race created for one of the entertainment programs where I come from.”

“If you are not a Klingon—”

“I’m a Human.”

Ruszel was older and more-experienced than Canos, so he was better able to contain his shock. A stern look crossed his face. “This changes everything, you must be aware? Although I will not report you, we cannot accompany you to the Void.”

“My credits are just as good as anyone’s. Why would you want to forfeit all that wealth? You’ve never met a Human before and yet you hate and fear us. Why?”

“For years stories of your race have circulated throughout the Nebula. You originate in the Far Arm, and are savages who use the technology of others to rape and pillage entire systems. You even managed to defeat the Juireans using trickery and deception. During your tenure as leaders of the Expansion, you stole an untold amount of credits for yourself while leaving hundreds of worlds destitute and broken.” He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. Riyad noticed a look of resignation on the alien’s face, believing that both he and Canos would never leave the ship alive. He continued, letting his true feelings erupt as a last act of defiance.

“Yes, we have strong evidence that the Kracori do reside in the Nebula, although none of my acquaintances can verify that. We are also aware of the death-veil you have placed over them, and if they are found to be here, then your race will invade the Nebula and destroy all we know. That is why we hate and fear you. It is told that once a single Human is found here, then thousands more will surely follow. After that nothing will ever be the same within the Nebula.”

Riyad was silent for quite a while, watching the two aliens. They made no attempt to leave the pilothouse; instead Canos was trembling visibly while Ruszel’s shoulders slumped markedly at the conclusion of his diatribe.

Riyad pursed his lips. “I’m terribly sorry you have been fed such an incredible amount of false propaganda by the Kracori. I can see why they would want to spread these lies, as a way to insulate themselves and to use the other races in the nebula as shields. But I don’t have the time to present my side of the story, at least not now. Just believe me when I say that the other races in the nebula have nothing to fear from the Humans. We only seek vengeance against the Kracori for their attempt to destroy our homeworld with a bombardment of nuclear weapons. If the Tel’orans had been treated the way we have – and you had the means to seek justice – you would do the same. All we seek are the Kracori, and it’s my job to verify that Elision lies at those coordinates I showed you.”

When neither of the aliens responded, Riyad continued. “I have offered you far more than your assistance is worth, and you both know I’m capable of finding those coordinates on my own. However, a pair of qualified guides would make my job that much easier – and safer.” He glanced at the locked drawer holding the supply of alien credits. “I have been supplied with an ample amount of ruiens to help with my mission. They’re of no value to me now or in the future. They total half-a-million … and they all are yours – along with the Ifrit, my ship – if you help.”

The jaws of both the aliens fell limp and their eyes grew larger. Riyad continued. “One last thing; if you do choose to help me – and we’re successful – then I would recommend that you take your credits, my ship and your families, and head for the furthest corner of the Nebula from the Dysion Void. Trust me; it’s going get very wild around there for a while. You can always return to Tel’or once the dust has settled.”

He knew he had them when neither of them appeared confused by his settling dust comment. They stopped listening to anything else after half-a-million ruiens. That amount was a king’s fortune to them, and when ownership of the Ifrit was thrown in, the aliens never stood a chance.

Riyad smiled. “Just a few days, that’s all I ask. And maybe during that time you may come to love Humans rather than hate us.”

Ruszel’s eyes narrowed. “Of that, I have much doubt.” He glanced at Canos. “We will accompany you, yet we will not fight.”

Riyad looked at Canos as well and gave him a wink. “Don’t worry; I have that part of the mission covered.”

* * *

The Ifrit departed the surface of Lucon-Por and put on a good show of heading back in the direction of Tel’or. But then just beyond the outer rim of the system, Riyad abruptly changed course, heading for the unexplored region of the Silvean Nebula known as the Dysion Void.

Riyad allowed the more-experienced pilot to guide them most of the way through the turbulent maze of gravity sources that riddled the nebula, especially as they neared their destination. While at the controls of the Ifrit, Ruszel quickly forgot about his trepidation, delighting instead in the thrill of piloting such a powerful vessel. At times, he would open her up for short stretches, and his eyes would gloss over after a particularly thrilling transit. On occasion, Riyad even overheard him commenting to Canos about how very soon this ship would be theirs.

Riyad knew he was paying an ungodly amount for the assistance of the two aliens; however, the money was not his, and he could always get another ship if he needed – that was one of the benefits of having Kroekus, the leader of the galactic Expansion, on your side. Besides, Riyad was pretty sure that once the location of Elision was verified he would be returning to Earth for a prolonged – if not permanent – stay. Stomping on aliens year-in and year-out was all well and good, but he was growing bored. And besides, Riyad Tarazi had his legacy to consider, and there weren’t very many Human women to be found among the stars.

Chapter 15

Aboard the Pegasus…

Even before they achieved orbit above Arcton, Adam and Sherri could tell the planet was a mess. There was a thin, brown haze surrounding the entire globe and even from space they could see dozens of huge fires raging on the surface. In addition, countless streaks of fire still rained down on the planet from space, as the gravity of Arcton sucked up more and more of the meteors, meteorites and asteroids now littering the system. Adam figured this was what it must have looked like when the stellar system was first forming. Unfortunately for the planet Arcton, it was about to return to a primordial state of exploding volcanoes and vast seas of molten lava, the likes of which had not been seen here in over three billion years.

If anything still survived on the surface, it wouldn’t for long. Arcton was doomed, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Even though the long-range CW-communications array for the Pegasus had been damaged in the debris field, the ship still carried traditional radio equipment aboard. Adam tried several times to contact the surface with the archaic device, using the coded reference for all Earth-vessels, but nothing came back except static. There had been a Human consulate on the planet at one time, along with a small service fleet. If any of those ships survived, Adam might be able to salvage a focusing ring or two.

At long last, Adam began a cautious descent to the surface, trying in vain to avoid the falling debris filling the sky. The lower they dropped the more of a beating the Pegasus took as only the largest pieces of space junk made it to the surface. As the thuds and pings on the hull become more numerous and pronounced, Adam was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea. All it would take would be direct hit on his engines by one of the larger objects and they would be stranded on the planet – a planet soon to become a prehistoric nightmare completely hostile to life.

Some relief from the fallout was found when Adam steered the ship around to the opposite side of the planet and the impacts became less frequent and severe – at least for the moment. This was the daylight hemisphere, yet in approximately twelve hours this side of planet would become a shooting gallery as well. And then the cycle would begin again, day after day until the system was clear of debris. By then it would be too late.

Arcton had once supported a population of over three billion indigenous Primes, with cities and roads, schools and parks – all the trappings of a modern, pre-spaceage society. Now everything was burning or stood as blackened ruins, crumbling to the ground with each new thunderous impact on its surface.

The Pegasus swept over the smoking remains of several medium size settlements until Sherri guided them toward what had been the planet’s largest city, a place called An-kar-em, where the Human consulate was located.

The city loomed in the distance; now only a ragged range of burned out spires and crumbled silhouettes on the horizon giving birth to a massive black cloud that blocked out nearly all the sunlight at midday in An-kar-em.

As they cruised over the absolute destruction below, their depression grew to new levels. Nothing could have survived, not even the technologically-superior and possibly forewarned Human contingent at the consulate. And when Sherri guided them to the spot where the consulate had once stood, all they found was a hundred-foot deep crater, filling rapidly with water from broken mains. The building was completely gone.

Adam set the Pegasus down in one of the open fields near the large hole – open now because the buildings that had once occupied the space had been converted to ashes in the conflagration.

Relying on the external video monitors – those that still functioned – rather than the cracked and sealed main viewport, Adam and Sherri were shocked to see creatures moving within the ruins of the city. The natives – tall, thick-legged beasts with two main arms and two smaller ones below – moved slowly towards the Pegasus, unsteady in their gait and with dour expressions on their blackened, dirty faces.

“It’s a miracle anyone has survived,” Sherri said. “Maybe some of the people from the consulate did, too.”

“They may have survived so far, but once the planet rotates back around, this area is going to get blasted again and then again for weeks and months to come. It’s a pretty good bet no one is going to make it out of this alive. And then the nuclear winter will set in. No, this planet is finished—”

“And all because of those ships that passed by here!” Sherri sat staring teary-eyed at the monitor, watching the natives approach the ship.

“Don’t get any ideas about offering them a ride, Sherri,” Adam said. “We couldn’t take more than a handful, and then we don’t even know if the ship will make it to Earth. Besides, we don’t know what they eat or anything about their physiology; we just don’t have the resources to take care of them.”

“I know all that, Adam,” Sherri said softly. “It’s just so sad….”

“I’m going out to see if any of the Humans survived.” As he rose from his seat he reached behind his back and switched on the telepathy device.

Sherri saw him do it. “Do you pick up any electrical signals nearby?”

Adam shook his head. “Nothing, the place is as dry as a desert, but remember my range is only about half-a-mile. I’ll go out a little further, which shouldn’t take too long in this lighter gravity. You just keep an eye on things from here … and get ready to lift-off in a hurry if necessary. These natives may see the Pegasus as their only way off the planet; I know I would.”

“Better take your little friend along with you,” Sherri called after him, referring to his preferred Glock, while doing her best Scarface imitation.

“Never leave home without it,” he replied, and he didn’t mean his American Express card.

* * *

The atmosphere of Arcton was Human-acceptable, yet with all the soot and smoke in the air, Adam donned a respirator and a thick cotton jacket. He strapped the Glock .45-caliber semiautomatic to his waist and then stepped out onto the surface. The respirator helped his breathing, yet his eyes were immediately accosted by the thick, oily smoke, causing them to burn and water profusely. He barely noticed when six of the Arcton natives surrounded him.

“You caused this – you and your kind!”

Adam whipped around just as one of the natives swung a thick wooden club at his head. He raised his right arm in time to deflect the blow and the club shattered when it hit. The strike stung, but he shrugged off the attack and stepped up to his attacker.

“We didn’t do this, what makes you think we did?”

The other natives backed away after seeing how effortlessly Adam had survived the attack. His assailant dropped what remained of his club and turned to run. Adam reached out a hand and grabbed the tattered remains of the creature’s clothing. He pulled him back in front of him. “Calm down,” Adam said. “I’m not here to hurt you. Just tell me what happened?”

“You speak our language?”

Adam could tell that the words he was hearing came from the telepathy device and not traditional translation bugs. This was one of the added features of his imbedded device; he could communicate with any Prime on a subliminal level. He wasn’t surprised to find that these creatures hadn’t been supplied with translation devices; that would come later once they were made members of the Solar Alliance. The Humans weren’t in the habit to passing several billion of the tiny devices to every race they encountered, at least not initially. The little buggers cost money!

“All I know is these meteorites and things began to fall about a cig-cycle ago,” the terrified alien replied. “Everything began to explode and burn.”

“How many days – rotations of your planet – is a cig-cycle,” Adam asked. It was important for him to determine how long ago the mystery fleet had passed near the system. He was pretty sure they weren’t Human, and if that were true, then that only left the bad guys and their fleet of twenty capital starships, heading in the direction of Earth.

The native frowned. “Rotations?” he questioned, but then his eyes grew wide. “You mean migrets! Five, it was five migrets – rotations.”

Adam had found that most planets with a certain mass and size tend to rotate at roughly the same speed, making days fairly uniform for Prime-supporting worlds. Planets that rotated too quickly had rapidly changing climate cycles which made it hard for life to evolve. And slowly rotating worlds had even more extreme variations between hot and cold. Only worlds with days averaging twenty-two to twenty-six hours appeared to support Prime – or Humanoid – life. And so far, only Prime life could build starships and move about the galaxy.

Now Adam had his answer: About five days ago a squadron comprised of approximately twenty capital ships of an unknown origin had bolted past this system, on full deep-wells and without regard to the damage they would cause. There were only a few alien species who possessed the technology necessary to build Class-4 or larger starships – and who also had the callous and heartless emotions to destroy entire star systems. Adam could think of three: the Klin, the Kracori … and even the Juireans. A squadron of warships from any one of these three would be a disaster in the making.

He pulled the alien a little closer. “Did any of the Humans survive – the aliens at the consulate who look like me?”

The native averted his eyes.

“It’s a simple question,” Adam said, his patience running thin. “Answer me!”

“There were a few!” the creature yelled out.

“Where are they now?”

Again the creature hesitated. Adam twisted the cloth of the native’s outfit until it began to choke. “They no longer live! I regret … but they no longer live.”

“What happened to them?” Adam already had his suspicions.

“We had never known of alien creatures before your kind arrived and then suddenly our home is being destroyed from rocks falling from the sky. We believed the Humans had brought this upon us. We did what we thought was necessary.”

“You killed them?”

“They were already badly injured. We only helped to end their suffering!”

Adam shoved the alien away; he flew ten feet away and fell to the ground in a puff of ash. “Did any of their spaceships survive?”

After recovering from the unexpected flight he’d just taken, the alien answered. “Two – but we have not been able to make them function. Some of us thought of escaping in them, but we know not how to operate such craft.”

Adam stood over the creature, watching his four arms twitched and his hands clench and unclench. “Show me where they are, show me the ships.”

“Of course, but please do not kill me.”

“You help me … and then I’ll think about it.”

* * *

The dirty and ash-covered alien led Adam around the large crater where once the Human consulate had stood. Word had spread quickly about Adam’s presence and of the Pegasus, and the handful of natives who chose to expose themselves kept their distance. Around a massive pile of brick and concrete debris, Adam was shown the two squatty inter-system hoppers that had once belonged to the Humans on Arcton. One was pitted with dozens of holes, making it inoperable, even if the natives could have figured out how to pilot the craft. The other one was in better condition, but not much.

Adam ran up to them and checked the focusing ports on the better of the two ships. He could see the focusing rings inside and they appeared to be in good condition. The outer hatch to the ship was open so Adam ran inside and went aft to the small cargo bay and generator room. Once there, he discovered that the damn natives had already stripped the spaceship of most of its lighter-weight items – but they had left a large gripper unit hanging on the bulkhead. Adam pulled it from the wall and then grabbed an empty plastic rations bin before heading for the exit.

Once outside, he placed the bin on the ground and stepped onto it, allowing an eye-level view of the focusing ring chamber. He inserted the gripper, and after a few tries managed to lock onto the focusing ring. He pressed the control on the tool’s handle and felt the gripper begin to unscrew the ring. Soon it was out and he moved on to the next one.

More of the natives had now gained the courage to gather around and it was then that Adam sensed the presence of an energy weapon. He turned from his task and focused on a native carrying an old Xan-Fi flash rifle, probably pulled from the wreckage of the consulate. The creature was lifting the weapon to fire, a sick, wicked grin on his face.

The native pulled back his lips to reveal double rows of sharp, pointed teeth, and then actually growled at Adam. “Come, we can take his spacecraft and force him to fly us away.”

Adam shook his head. “Put that down,” he called out to the alien. “It won’t work on me—”

“It worked on the others of your kind!” And then he pulled the trigger. Frustration – and fear – grew on the face of the alien as the weapon refused to fire.

“I told you. It won’t fire … but I can make it explode!” Adam sent a command to the weapon’s microprocessor to sever the rail-gun feed while also sending the entire charge from the power pack into the loader. The flash rifle began to hum, a sound which grew in pulse-raising intensity over the next few seconds.

The alien dropped the rifle in a panic and ran off, stirring up a cloud of gray dust as he went, and accompanied by several of the other creatures around him. Adam smiled, and sent another command through his telepathy device to cut the power pack. The humming stopped, and Adam turned back to his task.

Five minutes later he had the second focusing ring out and was heading back toward the Pegasus. The original native followed him.

“Take me with you; I do not wish to die.”

“I wish I could,” Adam said over his shoulder, his tone almost flippant. “Not enough room or supplies. Sorry.”

The alien stopped following. “So what will become of us?”

Adam stopped and turned. These aliens had killed the Humans that had survived; he didn’t have much sympathy for them. “The bombardments will continue; the debris that’s falling on your world stretches across your entire system. This is only the beginning.”

“Can’t the Humans do anything to save us?”

“There’s nothing we can to do stop it.”

The creature hung his head. “Then we will all perish. The Ak-u-mors will become extinct.”

Adam stopped and turned around as the reality of the situation suddenly hit home. An entire race of intelligent beings, all dying off over the course of a few short days, was something the Human race had luckily avoided twice before. Was a third strike in the works? “You may not be alone, my friend,” Adam said. “I believe that the same creatures who have destroyed your world fully intend to do the same to mine.”

“If that is so, then I wish you fortune and success if your intention is to stop them. And if you are successful, then please gain some revenge for the Ak-u-mor. We did not deserve this.”

“No you didn’t.” Adam offered a quick nod to the alien. “I will do my best.”

He turned and continued his trek back to the Pegasus.

* * *

The Arcton native didn’t follow. Instead he sat down on the soft cushion of blowing gray ash and watched as Adam disappeared into the haze of smoke and dust. He hung his head and closed his eyes. In a short time, the deadly rain would begin anew … and this spot seemed as good as any on his doomed world … to die.

* * *

Three hours later, the Pegasus lifted off the surface of Arcton, the two new focusing rings installed and operating at their capacity. They were of a smaller design so the array would not be able to produce as deep a well as with larger models, but it would be enough to get them back to Earth.

Once in space, it took another twelve hours for them to slowly angle their way out of the debris field before Adam could fully-engage the gravity-drive. He charted the residual gravity waves from the phantom squadron and took off in the same direction as fast as the Pegasus could go. If these were alien warships headed for Earth, then it was crucial he learn their true strength, origin and intentions.

With the CW-array out of commission it was impossible for them forewarn the Earth, and the traditional radio they had onboard was as useless as tits-on-a-boar when it came to interstellar distances.

“So what are you going to do if we catch up to them?” Sherri asked. “We can’t warn anyone.”

“I doubt they’re going to barrel right into the Solar System, not twenty ships against an entire planet. They probably have a staging area set up somewhere where they’re rendezvousing with their other units. If we can slip in and get a look at what we’re up against – and then get out before they deploy – we might be able to get to Earth in time to warn them.”

“Do you really think it’s the Kracori?”

“That’s my bet. Only a couple of months ago we found out Mark had the McCarthy Coordinates, and once Riyad confirms the location, we’ll be sending a force out to destroy their world. This may be a preemptive strike … hit us before we can hit them.”

“So they must still have spies on Earth.”

“Probably the Klin,” Adam said, “which makes sense, too. If the Klin and Kracori are allies again, then we could be in a lot of trouble.”

“Can we catch up to them?”

“They do have a week’s head start … but we do have the Pegasus.” Adam smiled and patted the console in front of him. “Even with the smaller focusing rings, we’re still faster than the fastest class-five out there. Not by much, but still faster. I have the scanners out to max. As soon as we get close, we’ll know.”

“I just hope Arieel’s gift will be enough to keep us from getting blown out of space.”

“A half-mile range isn’t a lot when it comes to distances in space. Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that we won’t come that close to their ships. That wouldn’t be good, not good at all.”

Chapter 16

Nigel McCarthy…

Nigel donned a full pressure suit and set off across the rugged, rocky landscape of Highland for his base. The surface gravity of the planet was very similar to Earth’s – that was the reason he’d selected the planet in the first place – so the going was a struggle. Even though his injuries had healed, he was still out of shape. He was nearing fifty now, and had not attended to his physical conditioning as he had in his younger years.

After a grueling two-hour hike, with sweat pouring down his forehead and the visor of his helmet covered in a fine fog, he finally reached the hidden entrance to the access tunnel that would lead to the base. His headquarters was located in the crusty remains of a massive lava tube left empty after its birth volcano had gone dormant. The tube proved to be a perfect pre-fabricated shelter for his men, needing only a few bulkheads and windows to seal up the complex from the elements.

Within the dormant volcano, several smaller lava tubes also wound their way throughout the mountain. Within one such tunnel, Nigel and Carter had built a secret entrance to the base. The tube stretched over five miles from the opposite of the mountain until it nearly joined the main tunnel, at a point a few hundred yards from the western bulkhead of the main living quarters. At the nearest point, Nigel and Carter had cut a connecting tube and sealed it against detection.

The five-mile long section of the tube leading to this connection point was open to the elements, yet a pair of electric carts, along with weapons and rations had been placed near the entrance. Nigel stocked up on the weapons and ammo and then boarded one of the carts for the ride to the other side of the mountain.

During the hour-long journey, Nigel managed to regain some of his strength, and by the time he reached the end of the tunnel he felt he was ready for just about anything.

The heavy metal airlock door was covered in a thick coating of sticky dust and Nigel had to feel along its surface to find the control pad. He brushed away the dust and was thrilled to see the steady green light on the panel. After three years of non-use, it was possible that something might have failed within the system. He fingered in the secret access code – his mother’s birthday – and the locks on the door snapped open.

He pulled on the door with all his strength, fighting against the resistance of the dust-covered hinges, until he had an opening large enough to squeeze through. He pulled the door shut again and entered another code for the tiny room to fill with life-giving atmosphere. Once the lights on the interior panel had all cycled back to green, Nigel removed the stifling hot helmet and dropped it to the granite floor of the airlock. He then pressed the button to open the door.

He stepped into a large, cavernous tunnel with a set of fluorescent lights set high on the ceiling. The level floor of this part of the base was now covered with a thin layer of undisturbed dust indicating that no one had ventured to this part of the base for a very long time.

He quickly discarded the rest of his pressure suit giving him more mobility as well as relief from the added weight of the outfit. He placed an ammo belt around his waist and slung a Remington Model 1100 Tac-4 shotgun over his shoulder. And then with a Mac-10 .45-caliber machine gun in his hand he began to move farther down the tunnel.

This part of the base contained the environmental equipment, including the air and water purifiers. All of this equipment was of alien-design, and therefore, set to run automatically for years on end. Beyond this were storage rooms for food supplies, spare parts and the like. The ammo dump came next, situated next to the living quarters for his troops, designed to give the men ready access to some incredible firepower should the need arise.

It was here that he would have to be very careful. It was a good bet that some of the Humans at the base would be found here, off-duty and lounging in or near their quarters or even asleep between watches.

Nigel moved upon the rough rock wall as he neared the living quarters. Each side of the tunnel widened here as individual living quarters had been cut into the solid rock. The large central area was filled with chairs, couches and tables, while a long food processing station ran along one wall and bank of four television monitors lined the other. Over the years, Nigel had acquired a fair number of DVD’s and music CD’s from his sources throughout the galaxy, giving his men a little taste of home, so this area of the base was always the most-popular.

But no one was here.

The entire area was quiet as a tomb, even displaying a thin layer of dust on parts of the floor and furniture. In fact, the number of faint footprints that could be made out in the dust had obviously been made a long time ago.

Nigel looked in several of the private quarters and found them all vacant, although clothing and other personal belongings still filled the rooms.

So where is everyone? Could they all be gone, off on a mission somewhere, ordered by the new leader of his outlaws?

He moved further along the lava tube a little quicker this time, believing now that if anyone still remained at the base, they would be fewer in number and something he could easily handle, especially since he had the element of surprise.

The next major compartment he came to was his own quarters. He entered cautiously, knowing that any new leader would have claimed his suite for himself. It was the biggest and most elaborate accommodations on the entire planet, a place Nigel had spared no expense in constructing. Yet as he entered, he found this part of the base to be vacant as well.

Now he began to worry. If any of his men remained, then someone would have claimed his quarters. So had he returned to an abandoned base? If so, then why was the power on, the heat set and the atmosphere still circulating?

He moved on to the labs and the alien quarters, where his scientists had once labored.

He entered the main lab and found a completely different scene than he witnessed so far. Here everything was clean and sterile, with bright lights shining and the smell of alien occupancy almost overwhelmingly present. At least his scientists were still here, if not presently in view. He began to pick up a slight trace, an awareness sitting at the edge of consciousness.

He entered the room where his chief scientist, Kronis Nur, would normally be seated, his incredible mass easily supported on the four massive legs native to his kind. He was a heavy-worlder as well, yet sloth-like in his movements, as were most beings from high-gravity planets – with the notable exception of Humans and Kracori. This room was also vacant—

Just then the door to the room slid shut and the locks engaged. Nigel turned to the metal door and raised his Mac-10. Through the large glass wall of the room, Nigel saw Kronis, as well as his two other scientists shuffle into view. Kronis, especially, carried a sinister smile on his face, or what passed as a sinister smile on the face of a Vizzen. Yet it wasn’t the smile that set Nigel’s heart to pounding and caused his breath to come in short gasps. It was the sight of the shiny metal medallion Kronis Nur had draped around his thick neck.

The alien was wearing one of the artificial telepathy devices like they had built for him.

Anger replaced his initial fear, and he opened up with the Mac-10 on the glass wall of the office. The deafening sound of round and after round striking the bullet-proof glass and confined to the small space of the lab caused Nigel to let loose with a primal scream. Soon the twenty-two rounds in the magazine were spent and the thick haze of white smoke nearly obscured Nigel from those outside the room. Nigel gripped the useless weapon so tight in his hand that his knuckles turned white. He glared at the smug alien through the window.

Kronis lumbered up to the glass wall and a speaker crackled to life within the office. “Welcome home, Ma-Jor. I must say it is quite the surprise to learn that you are alive. When you first entered the secret passageway my colleagues and I have been in a quandary as to what to do with you.”

“Where are my men?” Nigel asked, his face red, his heart pounding with unrestrained hatred.

“Some still live,” the alien answered. “They are sequestered in a chamber not far from here. But I must say, we are growing tired of having to feed them on a regular basis. At this point, we see very little need to keep them alive.” He moved closer to the window, until both Nigel and alien’s faces were only inches apart, separated by the glass. “And now we have you. Adding your energy to the other Humans may not be a wise move on our part. You may give them hope and another escape may be planned.”

“Another…?”

“Yes, the last attempt failed miserably,” Kronis said with a bounce in his voice. One of his delicate, extremely talented hands reached up to stroke the metal medallion. “At the time, your companions did not realize what happened to them and how we were able to so easily contain them. Unfortunately, they had to learn the hard way what they were up against. I must thank you for providing us with the impetus to develop these wonderful devices.” He looked to the other two scientists, each wearing a medallion of their own. “It seems now the lowly technicians among your cadre are now in charge, and possessing of a power that even you Humans cannot resist.”

“So what happens now? Are you going to keep me locked in here forever?” Nigel unslung the shotgun from his back and leveled it at the alien on the other side of the window. “You do know that device won’t do anything to stop a thousand pellets of buckshot from tearing through your flabby alien flesh.”

“Of course we are aware. That is why we waited until we could contain you before revealing ourselves. But you see, Ma-Jor, we have options.” Just then Nigel began to hear a soft whistling sound as the air in the office began to be drawn into the vents. It wouldn’t be long until the atmosphere in the room would be gone. And then the whistling stopped.

“You see, Human, I could kill you now simply by vacating the atmosphere from the lab. Or I could leave you in there until you starve to death or die of dehydration. You see, I have had the opportunity to study Humans for some time now, and I know your weakness. They are as any other living creature. You are not immortal – even though it appears you have risen from the dead!”

Nigel was silent for a moment as he quickly assessed his chances. They didn’t look good, and as long as he stayed locked up in this room he had no options at all. He lowered the shotgun and then let it fall to the floor. Then he unbuckled the ammo belt and let that fall as well. He raised his arms and locked his hands above his head.

“Okay, you’ve got me. I surrender.”

The scientists all looked at each other with looks of undisguised glee. These creatures were unaccustomed to winning against stronger, more savages races. Now they were reveling in the moment like schools girls asked on their first dates.

Nigel stared at them with a look of sorrow bordering on tears. He trembled visibly and did his best to make the scene as convincing as possible. The scientists may have gotten the drop on him, yet he wondered if they knew how to handle their success. He continued to play it to the hilt hoping they would see him as a defeated man, accepting of his fate.

One of the scientists produced a MK flash weapon and the door to the office clicked and began to slide open. The blue-skinned creature leveled the weapon at him, still displaying a considerable amount of joy.

“Come then, Ma-Jor. We will place you with the others, seeing that you have so readily accepted your situation.” Kronis’s voice was higher-pitched and came in a much more rapid pace than Nigel had ever heard before. “You, more than the others, know what can be achieved by the medallions, so please do not attempt to mount an escape attempt. We are very close to simply exterminating the Humans and returning to our worlds. Even though we were outcasts before, with the medallions we could return to an entirely different welcoming. Now move.”

Nigel did as he was told. The third scientist stepped forward and placed an electronic collar around his neck. The cold metal tightened to just above the level of choking.

“We control the intensity of the collar, Ma-Jor,” the alien name Monick Bor’nick told him. “Just a thought … and you will die.”

The trio of ecstatic alien technicians led him to the thick metal security door to the eastern shuttle hangar. He waited for the door to cycle open and entered when ordered. He turned to look at the scientists as the door swung closed. He was sure he would see them again soon, and under completely different circumstances. But he would need the help of men.

He turned to peer into the dimness of the room and was totally unprepared for what he saw.

Chapter 17

Aboard the Pegasus…

Adam had never seen a real blackhole in space, so when the trail of the mystery squadron led them past a bizarre system where a singularity was eating a neighboring star, Sherri and he stared mesmerized at the awesome sight.

The blackhole was unseen, of course, with just its influence on the nearby white dwarf indicating its presence. A long stream of stellar gas was being drawn from the star and sent spiraling off into space towards a dark dot surrounded by a tight ring of the star’s stolen material. Even though the two objects were still two-hundred million miles from the Pegasus, the two enraptured Humans could clearly see the movement of the yellow and white hot gas as it spiraled down into the bottomless pit of the blackhole. To see something this big and this violent – and to observe it happening in real-time – was fascinating.

It had taken the Pegasus four days to catch up with the convoy of warships, helped by the fact that they did slow down to normal in-system velocities as they approached the spectacular scene of the star-eating blackhole. Adam and Sherri were sure the ships weren’t on a sightseeing tour, so they began to frantically scour the star charts trying to figure out the fleet’s final destination in this region. It was obvious the death-spiral system was not it; no planets could survive orbiting such an unstable gravity source. Yet this region of space had barely been surveyed – even though it was only about fifteen-hundred light years from Earth – and there were half-a-dozen stars located within a light-year of their present location.

Fortunately, the alien spacecraft hadn’t slashed through any other systems getting to this point; in fact it avoided most of them as it got closer to Earth, apparently not wanting to draw attention to its movements. The Adenion system – which the ships had shredded – was located over thirty-five hundred light-years from Earth, so the Kracori – or whoever they were – hadn’t been as cautious then as they were now.

But the gravity wave was now lining up towards a star located a third of a light-year from the dwarf-blackhole system, a star designated as HIP-322 on the chart, and just one of millions of such stars too insignificant to carry an actual name. There was no data regarding planets within the system – inhabited or not – and yet the twenty-plus starships were definitely headed there.

As the Pegasus entered the outer limits of the stellar system – a discrete distance from the source of the wave – Sherri began to pick up dozens of other smaller spacecraft flitting about within the system. Adam swung a second seat over next to her and helped analyze the gravity signatures of these new contacts. They appeared to be different from normal sigs, indicating that these drives were of a foreign design than even those used by the warships that had just entered the system.

“Could this be an undiscovered race who have their own gravity-drive technology?” Sherri asked.

“Undiscovered by us, but not the Kracori or the Klin,” Adam pointed out. “The wells are efficient, but not as refined as those from the Expansion. And look.” He pointed to a grouping of nine starship signatures just now entering the system behind them. “These ships have even a different sig … and they’re arriving from outside the system.”

“What’s your point?”

“It could mean that there are a variety of alien ships operating within this system, and not just those belonging to the natives.”

“So you think we can slip in without standing out … too much?” Sherri asked, a look of concern on her face. “If we can analyze their signatures, then they can surely analyze ours.”

“You’re right,” Adam said. “But the Pegasus does have a signature unlike any around, including those of Earth-built ships. If these natives are in cahoots with the Kracori, then they’re probably aware of Earth-specific signatures.”

“Cahoots?” Sherri’s smile almost erupted into full-blown laughter. “Do all you people from California talk like that? Even we hicks from Kentucky don’t use words like cahoots anymore.”

“I guess I watched too many History Channel programs when I was growing up. It seemed like an appropriate word for the situation.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, sweetie, it is. But damn!”

“Mind if we get back to the matter at hand,” Adam said, feeling more than a little embarrassed. “We still need to verify what’s going on in-system. Those warships didn’t come all this way just to take shore leave on some tropical paradise of a world. They’re up to no good.”

Sherri was still staring at him and smiling; she suddenly bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “Sometimes you are just too damn cute.”

“Later, babe; this isn’t a Viagra-moment.”

“Too bad….” Sherri turned back to the nav screen with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “That planet there seems to be where most of the activity is centered.” She pulled up a read-out of atmosphere, temperature and surface gravity: “Breathable air, average temperature, if a little cooler than Earth, and with surface gravity about Juirean-normal, or around a quarter less than ours.”

“So we’ll be supermen there.”

“Super-persons, my dear,” Sherri corrected. “We really have to work on your misogynistic tendencies.”

He smiled back at her. “I don’t hate women – just some women – and then just some of the time.”

“Present company excepted, of course!”

“I didn’t say that.”

Chapter 18

A few minutes later panic swept over the two Humans, as they approached the central planet for this unnamed system and discovered that the warships they’d been trailing were nowhere to be found. Even a fleet of over twenty metal behemoths is easy to hide within the volume of a star system, and operating only on maneuvering-wells and chemical drive made them virtually impossible to track.

“I’m sure they haven’t moved on,” Adam said aloud, more to soothe this own doubts than Sherri’s. “But until we find them, we can’t be sure if there are only twenty ships or a thousand.”

“We’ll find them, Adam,” Sherri said. “The transmissions I’m picking up are being translated by the onboard computers, so the aliens down there appear to have translation bugs. Why don’t we drop down to surface and ask around? Besides, we still need to get the forward viewscreen repaired. Using only the monitors to see outside is driving me crazy.”

“But we don’t have any idea what they use for money down there,” Adam countered. “How are we going to pay for the repairs?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Sherri answered with a smile. “But that’s what you specialize in, isn’t it – getting stuff by brute force? And now you have Arieel’s gift. Just make ‘em an offer they can’t refuse.”

“Aren’t you just the regular comedian today?”

“If you can’t laugh in the face of imminent danger, then when can you?”

Adam began the descent calculations. “By the way, why don’t you slip me a little of whatever you’re smoking? I might like a little artificial courage myself.”

* * *

The world below was a mass of shimming blue and white, and dotted with countless green and brown patches signifying tiny landmasses made up of atolls and islands. Some of the larger islands weren’t much bigger than the United Kingdom back on Earth, and there didn’t appear to be anything close to being classified as a continent. There were no mountains, no deserts and no vast open plains … just two small icecaps at each pole to break up the expanse of water. If ever there was a waterworld, this was it.

The ship’s comm crackled as the planetary traffic control linked up. “Approaching spacecraft, declare your authorization,” the almost artificial-sounding voice commanded.

“Requesting approach vector for repairs and resupply,” Sherri responded. They had decided to let her do the talking since even in space female pilots were a rarity and not something the aliens would be expecting, especially if they were scanning for possible intruders and spies. “It’s been a long journey and I would really like to stretch my legs.”

“The transponder on your vessel is not registering. What is your planet of origin?”

Before their CW-array had been damaged back in the Adenion system, Adam and Sherri had heard about the uprising in the Human colony of the Jusepi. Even though Jusepi sounded more like an Italian restaurant than a race of aliens, if the natives here were on the lookout for Humans, then claiming to be one of their enemies seemed like a plan. “Duelux, my friend; we are Jusepi.”

There was a pause on the link. “You are cleared for entry,” the voice said. “What repairs do you require? That will determine your landing point.”

“Just hull work; we have a cracked forward viewport … oh, and our CW-link is down.”

“Follow the beacon to Neforlan. There are facilities there to assist you, although I am not familiar with the term CW-link. Do not deviate from the beacon once you enter the atmosphere.”

“CW is a form of communication relay; sorry for the confusion. I understand about the beacon and will comply … and thank you for your kindness.”

There was a slight pause on the comm before the alien spoke again. “I am also sending you a briefing video for Aslon. It is apparent you have never been upon our world before. There are certain manners you must assimilate to avoid conflict, first of which is the use of familiar terms and greetings when you are not of the O’mly. Study the video before having any further contact with us.”

Both Sherri and Adam matched raised eyebrows. “Well, excuse me!” Sherri said after cutting the link. “Snooty little bastards, aren’t they?”

“Better check the report for anything about carrying weapons,” Adam said. “I don’t intend on going out in public without backup.”

“At least you have Arieel’s gift—”

“I really wish you’d stop calling it that,” Adam said.

“What should I call it: the device, the implant … your turbo-charged remote control?”

“I don’t know; I grew up around the military acronyms out the wahzoo, so why not ATD … for Artificial-Telepathy-Device. I need to settle on something myself.”

“ATD? I like it,” Sherri said. “But what about ATD-PBTOSANA?”

“What!” Adam had no idea what she was talking about.

“That stands for Artificial-Telepathy-Device … Provided-By-The-Over-Sexed-Alien-Named-Arieel.”

“You’ve got to be kidding—”

“Yeah, I’m just screwing with you, Adam. Lighten up. ATD is fine.”

“I think you’re losing it, Ms. Valentine,” Adam said, forcing a smile.

“You could be right; all these cosmic rays out here are affecting my brain. Or maybe I’m just going stir-crazy and need a little action.”

“That I can relate to,” he said, as he locked the Pegasus on the approach-beacon being sent from the surface. “And down there is a whole new world of aliens we’ve never met before. This could be as much fun as a barrel-of-monkeys!”

“Careful, Adam, at this point we don’t know what these O’mly look like. This may indeed be a Planet of the Apes.”

* * *

The approach-beacon guided them to one of the larger islands that had several large v-shaped additions jutting off from it of obvious artificial construction. Most of the buildings on these extensions were of a uniform charcoal-gray color and varied only in height and width. Near the tip of the largest v-structure was a small landing area, presently occupied by only a handful of small delta-shaped spacecraft. Being delta-shaped itself, the Pegasus would fit right in, even though it was nearly twice as large as any of the other ships in the spaceport.

This larger island was surrounded by literally hundreds of much smaller atolls, each with central crops of green vegetation and surrounded by white, sandy beaches. At first glance, this planet did look like some kind of tropical paradise, even if the nasty demeanor of the natives could ruin the entire vacationing experience.

The briefing video was far too long and detailed to be assimilated in one viewing, yet it did fill in some of the blanks regarding this uncharted world. The planet was called Aslon and its natives the O’mly, and even though they didn’t look like monkeys, they did resemble trolls in a way. They were large beasts, with scaly skin that apparently changed color like that of a chameleon. Their heads were large, with several ridges of raised bumps that formed patterns above their yellow eyes and then ran up to form a central bulge at the crest of their skulls. Large, fan-like ears projected straight out on either side of the head and they appeared to be hairless, both on head and body. Even though Adam and Sherri couldn’t tell from the video, the webbed fingers on their hands led them to believe that the O’mly were amphibians and probably had gills hidden somewhere on their bodies. This made sense considering that most of their world was covered with water.

As they studied the report, both Humans cringed when they noticed the two, eight-inch long talons protruding from the tips of the middle fingers on their webbed hands. Each hand had four fingers and an opposable thumb; very Human-like – except for the talons and the webbing. They figured it must be a real hassle for the O’mly to have what were essentially two very sharp, eight-inch long fingernails with them all the time; having sex must have been especially challenging. Seriously however, Adam and Sherri knew the aliens had evolved over the millennia with the deadly-looking spikes as a natural part of their bodies. They had no illusions that these spikes were for adornment only. These were weapons, and even though the Humans would appear stronger and have quicker reactions in the light gravity of Aslon, the spikes would prove deadly in a street-fight – and the ATD would be no help at all. Adam just hoped they wouldn’t have to spend too much time on the surface of Aslon. They weren’t here on a sight-seeing tour; there was a mystery fleet nearby, and the sooner they found their answers concerning it, the sooner they could resume their journey home.

Adam and Sherri put on thick coats to protect against the deceptively cool weather, and since there had been no mention in the report of restrictions to carrying weapons, they each also wore MK-17’s on their hips. Once geared up, they opened the side hatch and stepped outside.

Six O’mly met them on the landing field, arriving in a large, electric cart with two rows of seats and a flatbed to the rear. In person, the scaly-skinned aliens were even more intimidating than in the video. Each wore form-fitting dark-green tunics and stood over seven-feet tall. Adam was getting tired of nearly every alien species being taller than Humans, but this was just one of the consequences of most life-supporting worlds having lighter gravity than the Earth. Adam didn’t complain too much; it was this gravity differential that gave Humans most of their superman-like abilities. However, as he watched the hulking green mass of alien approach him – their yellow-tinged talons clicking together in a deadly dissonant chorus – Adam was hoping he wouldn’t have to test his physical skills against this species.

The leader of the group stared down at Adam for a long moment; Adam knew better than to present a greeting to the alien – that was one of the things he’d gleaned from the briefing report. Instead, he let the creature take his time thinking about … well, whatever aliens thought about at a time like this. Finally, the O’mly pulled a datapad from a utility pocket in his tunic and moved to the front of the Pegasus; his entourage followed, all pointing out the numerous pits and holes along the once-shiny hull. The lead O’mly looked up at the blast shield covering the forward viewport, and noticed traces of sealing foam seeping out from the sides. He entered some information into his pad and then turned to Adam and Sherri.

“Ninety korlons … for the viewport only,” the creature said. “The other hull damage will be considerably more if you elect to repair the damage. This CW communication device you mentioned we cannot repair, since we do not know what it is.” The tone of the alien was flat and decisive, leaving Adam with the impression that there would be no negotiation regarding the price. With the variety of currencies throughout the galaxy, a fair amount of the transactions between alien species involved barter and trade. Even still, Adam had to be careful that he didn’t come right out and admit that he had no idea what a korlon was or how he would set a comparable value for anything he might want to trade for the repairs.

He also knew that the repairs were not absolutely necessary and that his real purpose for being on the planet was to track down the mystery fleet.

“That is acceptable,” Adam said finally. “For payment, we can either trade for the repairs, or we can arrange for payment from our partners who have also just arrived in-system.”

“We do not trade for service at the port. If you do not have the fee, then you will have to arrange for a sale of items though a merchant transaction. If you have partners who can provide the korlons, then you should pursue that option as well.”

“We came in with the squadron of battleships that just arrived. Is it possible to secure transportation to the fleet … on credit? We do not want to risk any further travel with the viewport in its present condition.”

The alien stared at Adam with unblinking yellow eyes. “The viewport appears to be sealed. I do not see any danger with travel in your craft.”

Adam looked over at Sherri, seeking any help she could provide. She stepped up to the alien. “Yes, we can use our ship, yet the CW device you mentioned is also tied to our navigation system. We have lost the ability to track our fleet. We will need assistance if we are to retrieve the korlons for the repair. Can you help – assist – us with this?”

Again the alien hesitated before responding. Either this thing is suspicious … or else he’s a really slow thinker, Adam thought.

“I know little of the alien warships – that is not my field of expertise. Yet if it will secure the korlons for the repair, then I will send inquiries regarding navigational assistance. You will remain in your vessel until further notice.”

The O’mly began to walk away, but then stopped abruptly and turned back to the Humans. “You should know better than to arrive on Aslon without the proper currency. A thought has occurred to me. The landing fee is twenty mi-korlons, as is the departure fee. Even if your ship were space-worthy, I would not allow it to depart without payment of port fees. It appears as though you may have to arrange transportation to your partner fleet after all, or seek communication with them in some other fashion … since I will be holding your vessel as security until you can pay at least the port fees.”

“What the fuck! You can’t confiscate our ship.” Sherri said, stepping closer to the alien. Adam heard the clicking of talons become more prevalent as the other five creatures moved closer.

The lead O’mly leaned over Sherri. “I have never encountered the Jusepi before,” he said, “so I do not know how your society is managed. But here on Aslon, manners are set by the O’mly, and I say we can impound your ship until we are paid.” The alien lifted his right hand and began to slowly extend his two middle fingers towards Sherri’s face. The needle-sharp tips of the talons were only inches away. “Welcome to Aslon … off-worlder.”

Adam pulled Sherri away. “That will be fine,” he said quickly. “The ship will stay here until we can arrange for payment. Do we have your permission to seek trade within your city? I’m sure we should have something of value within our vessel, at least to cover the port fees.”

The alien continued to stare at Sherri even as he answered. “Granted, but you only have one cycle. If you have not secured payment by then, I will take your vessel as payment. That is a trade I will accept.”

Through his ATD, Adam could sense a dampening field being broadcast over the area. This would inhibit well-generation, rendering the gravity drive useless. But how the O’mly would keep him from using his chemical drive to escape was anyone’s guess. However, chem-drives were exceedingly slow and noisy, and the natives probably had some sort of weapons system capable of destroying ships either coming or going without permission. He reached out with his senses and detected a number of electronic systems operating within his range, even though he couldn’t detect any weapons – other than the primitive flash weapons carried by the dockmaster and his entourage. The dampening field was controlled from farther away than half a mile, so he would not be able to disable that unless he could get closer to the source. In any event, he still had a cycle – however long that was – to score some korlons.

And his best bet for accomplishing that was to find the nearest spacer’s bar.

Chapter 19

Nigel McCarthy…

When Nigel left his base over four months ago to embark on his failed assault on Adam Cain’s headquarters on Pyrum-3, he’d left behind eighty virile and physically-fit examples of Human maleness. Mercenaries one and all, each of his men had prior military experience and were completely dedicated to the notion that mankind was the top-dog in the galaxy. Now, as the overpowering stench of feces and sweat hit him, Nigel knew most of these men had reached the end of their willpower to survive. There would be no salvaging these men. He would have to find another army – if he survived.

The shuttle hold was large – approximately two-hundred feet square and with a towering ceiling made up of the curving solid rock of the lava tube. The shuttles had been removed, and now it served exclusively as the prison for the shattered remains of his army.

The designers had seen fit to place a single loo in the room, which when used by eighty men over an extended period of time, had ceased to function after the first week or so. The alien scientists hadn’t bothered to fix the toilet, and even had the water cut off to the sink and shower because the men were drinking from them.

As his eyes became acclimated to the dim light, Nigel could see dozens of corpses spread across the floor, with the barely-living shuffling slowly among them without concern. The few survivors were now a disgusting collection of emaciated men with torn clothing and gaunt, ghostly faces, resembling Holocaust victims from World War II. Concern entered McCarthy’s thoughts; he would need at least a few of these men to be healthy enough to carry out his plan. What he saw in the hangar-prison didn’t offer much hope.

As Kronis had said, the aliens had lost interest in the prisoners, forgetting to feed them for days, then as more of the men died, the scientists had decided to just let the rest of them die. The experiments with the newer models of the artificial telepathy device were nearing an end, and soon the aliens would be leaving the base for their homeworlds, equipped with the means to make each of them rich and powerful beyond belief. The Humans would die then anyway, so why delay the inevitable?

As he stood near the door, unnoticed at first by the prisoners, Nigel could now clearly see that the survivors were divided into two distinct groups – the barely living and the stronger, healthier segment. So, some have learned to survive, even under these conditions. It wasn’t hard for Nigel to imagine how that had happened.

* * *

As the days, weeks and months passed, his men had reverted to a Lord of the Flies kind of existence, which must have been hard to do in a population of tough-as-nails equals. However, as in all societies, some did rise to the top. They dominated the rest, keeping most of the food and water for themselves. Even at that, this stronger group was now down to fourteen individuals, and after four months under these miserable conditions, most were on the last-leg of their will to survive.

* * *

Garrett Linfield was one of the Lords that ruled over what was left of the Humans. He had managed to claim larger portions of the rations for himself, and when the men resorted to cannibalism for survival, it was Garrett who took the first bite of Human flesh. He was a survivor, and as such, was one of the few who could still walk when Nigel was placed in the hangar and the door sealed behind him.

“I must be bloody-hell hallucinating,” Garrett said as he staggered up to McCarthy. “I thought you was dead?”

“Not hardly,” Nigel said as the rest of the survivors moved toward him in an eerie, slow-motion parade. “It looks like you men have let yourselves go. You would be amazed what a little exercise would do for your condition.”

“Ain’t you the funnyman, McCarthy? Look what your bloody scientists have done to us. They’ve treated us worse than bugs, and they haven’t even thrown any of that slop they call food in here for three or four days. The only thing that’s kept some of us alive is a leaking cooling conduit where we get our water … and the meat from some of the dead that weren’t too diseased.”

Nigel wrinkled his nose at that comment, surprised that Garrett would so readily admit to cannibalism.

“Now I suppose with you back and alive, all fat and happy, you’ll be the last man standing after you’ve eaten the last of us, Major, sir!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lieutenant,” Nigel replied looking the gaunt-faced man straight in the eye. “I intend to get us out of here, and I mean soon.”

Another of the survivors – Private First Class Doug Cromartie of the American Marines – leaned against a wall, supporting his weak legs as best he could. “How you going to do that, Major? We tried everything – when we had the strength. The fucking aliens always would suck out the air or turn off the heat anytime we tried anything. And now we have these fucking collars. And I know they have cameras set way up there and they watch us all the time.” He tried to lift his arm and point at the ceiling but his hand only made it as high as his chin.

“Cromartie’s right,” Garrett said. “Besides, we’re in no condition to fight. Looks like you waited too long to make an appearance.”

“So why are the aliens still here? Why didn’t they take off as soon as they had taken over the base?”

“Been working on some project,” Cromartie said. “Once they had us fitted with the collars, they had us move equipment around for them. That fat slob Kronis was the worst of them, too. What a sadistic bastard. He even took a couple of us out just so he could cut us open and see why we’re so strong.”

“He’ll be dealt with as soon as we get out of here,” Nigel assured him.

“We ain’t goin anywhere, Major,” Garrett said, his foul breath noticeable from even ten feet away. “They have those medallions, like you had. That’s doing it, isn’t it? That’s how they can control the collars … and other things. It’s the medallions you had them make.”

“Yeah, but I can stop them. When they made the first medallions for me, they made three extras. I know where they are.”

“Don’t tell, me, they’re in the lab?” Garrett turned and sat down heavily on an empty crate. “All you have to do is get in there, right?”

“That’s right. And I don’t even have to actually possess the medallion to make it work. I just need to be within about five or six meters.”

“How do you know the aliens haven’t converted them for their own use?”

“Because I felt them when I was with the aliens before, but I didn’t get close enough to fully activate them.”

“You felt them? Bloody-hell gone bonkers have you, McCarthy?”

“No, these medallions are tuned to me and me alone. We even built in a fail-safe where they couldn’t be converted, as you called it. They’re in the lab all right, and all I need to do is get close enough.”

A third man staggered up to them. He was Cameron Dukes, the Australian Nigel had left in charge of the base when he left. Even though Garrett Linfield had taken over the hangar, Dukes was still a formidable opponent, or at least he once had been. “So you need some way to get back in the lab.”

Nigel placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and was stunned to feel the prominent bone under the filthy, once-tan, short-sleeve shirt he wore. “It’s good to see you’re still around, Cam,” Nigel said, while offering an accusatory look in Garrett’s direction. Until a few moments ago, Garrett had ruled the prison. Now he knew he was no match for a healthy and well-fed Nigel McCarthy.

“Yeah, for what it’s worth; now what’s your plan?”

Nigel looked again at Garrett. “You may actually enjoy this, but the lab is also the sick bay, and after all of you have beaten the snot out of me, the aliens will have to take me there to get me patched up.”

“And why would they do that?” Cromartie asked. “Why wouldn’t they just let you die in here like the rest of us?”

“Because I have a secret that will make keeping me alive very important to them, and it’s the reason all of you are going to attack me.”

“What secret is that?” Garrett asked, skepticism dripping from his tone.

“I have no idea. I’m going to need a little time to work that one out.”

“You’re insane, man!” Cromartie said, turning away from Nigel in anger as fast as his frail body would allow.

“Major, we don’t have a lot of time” This time Cameron Dukes was complaining. “If you’re going to come up with a plan, it had better be quick.”

“And how are a bunch of near-dead zombies like us going to beat the crap out of you?” Nigel knew Garrett had probably been thinking these exact same words and now used this opportunity to express them verbally – while also getting some ideas.

Nigel stared at the once-virile warrior. Yes, how is that going to happen exactly? They would have to take him by surprise, and then swarm his body. But why would they do that? What could he have that the nearly-dead prisoners would not want him to divulge to the aliens?

Just then, the obvious answer popped into his head.

He moved over to the group of prisoners which now numbered six, barely-able-to-stand individuals. “Okay, this is how it’s going down,” he commanded. “Remember all the gold and credits we have stashed around here, from the good ol’ days of pillaging and plundering?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Major?” Even though he was dehydrated, spittle still shot out of Garrett’s mouth as he yelled.

“Listen up.” They all crowded in closer to their leader. “Even though my scientists are geniuses, they are not of the highest moral character. All of them had been banished from their homeworlds because of certain less-than-legal activities, all in pursuit of the almighty dollar – or credits in this case. That’s how they landed here. They’re in it for the money, mates. All we have to do is convince them that we have a huge treasure hidden in the base, and I’m willing to reveal the location for my freedom.”

“But we’re almost dead. Why would we care if you give up credits we’ll never live to spend? Besides, why don’t we trade the location for freedom ourselves?”

“Because, you idiot, there is no treasure.” Nigel had just about enough of Garrett Linfield he could handle. There was a good chance the obnoxious Cockney wouldn’t make it through this little charade alive. “All we’re trying to do is get me close to my medallions so I can get us out of here.”

“Okay, boss,” said Doug Cromartie. “Just tell us what to do.”

“Very good, and Cromartie I need you to play a very important part in this play. Since they’ll be watching, this is the op….”

Chapter 20

Monick Bor’nick looked up from the monitor, revealing extremely large eyes set on opposite sides of his narrow, boney head. “You should see this Kronis. You knew the Ma-Jor better than the rest of us.”

The slow, cumbersome scientist shuffled over to the monitor where he focused his incredibly acute sight on the grainy image. The camera was mounted high above the floor of the hangar allowing one unit to cover the entire area. What he saw was a group of the emaciated prisoners huddled over the supine Nigel McCarthy, striking him with clubs and feeble kicks.

“Why are they attacking their leader?” Kronis was truly baffled. He knew that prior to this the Ma-Jor was a hero to the other Humans, almost a mythical figure who had led them in a long series of successful operations. And now this….

“Replay the prior events, Monick. I have curiosity.”

“I, too,” the second scientist acknowledged as he reset the digital recording for a few minutes before this. There was Nigel McCarthy standing with a group of the strongest survivors, when suddenly an animated argument had ensued. The much stronger and healthy Ma-Jor had fended off the earliest attacks by the weakened prisoners, when one such Human stepped up behind the Ma-Jor and hit him across the head with a metal rod. McCarthy fell to the floor, where the others could more-easily stomp on him.

The Ma-Jor managed to crawl to the large double doors to the storeroom and reached a hand up to the intercom box set in the wall next to the doors. The scientists could now hear his voice on the recording. “Help! Please help!” the severely injured Human cried out.

Just then another of the prisoners stepped up and kicked the Ma-Jor in the side of the head. “You ain’t giving up our treasure to these aliens. We’ll kill you before we let you.”

Treasure!

Both the scientists looked at each other with shocked surprise. Then Kronis sent a mental command to the collars of the prisoners. Now in real time, the scene within the makeshift prison showed all the conscious Humans writhing on the floor grasping their necks.

“Let us investigate this claim of treasure,” Kronis said as he led the other, much skinner scientist out of the laboratory. “The Humans do have a habit of hiding items from others.”

It was only a short walk from the lab to the hangar. Monick released the security latches on the wide, heavy doors with a command through his medallion and the Mutt ’n Jeff aliens entered the room. Kronis released the pressure on the security collars. Monick bent down next to McCarthy and began to examine the nearly unconscious Human. He slapped him once across the face. “Speak, Ma-Jor. What is this treasure you speak of?”

“Don’t tell him!” one of the other Humans called out.

The Ma-Jor’s eyes fluttered open. “For my freedom….”

“What for your freedom?”

“I will give you the treasure.” And then his eyes closed once more.

Kronis lumbered up to the crowd of disgusting and filthy Humans and called out to three of them. “You, come and assist moving your commander to the laboratory,” he ordered. “Hurry, or else I will tighten your collars and not let up this time.”

Garrett, Cromartie and Cameron climbed to their feet and did the best they could to move the now-unconscious body of Nigel McCarthy. They had a difficult time half-dragging, half-lifting the muscle-bound Englishman on the short journey to the series of brightly-lit rooms that made up the sanctuary of the scientists. They all squinted from the painful intensity of the light, of which they hadn’t experienced in almost four months. They placed McCarthy on a table with a thin pad as a cushion.

“Return to the hangar now,” Kronis commanded. The three Humans hesitated as they looked first at the body of Nigel McCarthy and then at the two aliens. Just then, the third scientist entered the complex. He was tall and slender, with large ears and a double row of boney plates that stuck out from his back. He wore the medallion prominently on his barrel chest.

Reluctantly, the three prisoners returned to their prison without supervision, knowing all it would take would be a thought by the aliens and the collars around their necks would tighten, this time not to loosen up until they were all dead. The thought was a great motivator, and the aliens knew it.

Chapter 21

Adam Cain…

“So what are we going to barter with?” Sherri asked. “We don’t have a clue what these green bastards find of value.”

“Grab a video camera,” Adam said. “Let’s start taking pictures of just about everything aboard the ship that isn’t crucial. I’ll take the camera to the nearest bar and see if I can find something these aliens want.”

“You mean we’ll take the camera; I’m not staying here while you go have all the fun.”

“This may not have dawned on you yet, hot-shot, but we’re in some pretty deep trouble. These O’mly look tough – tougher than most – and they’re not into playing games. And with this assumed-Kracori fleet out there somewhere, we don’t have a lot of time to mess around. If the Earth is their target, we may be the planet’s only hope of warning them before it’s too late.”

“I know all that, so stop lecturing me and start filming.” Sherri reached into a drawer in the stateroom they were in and pulled out a pair of her panties. She held them up and smiled. “I wonder what they’ll give me for these? I know some people back on Earth who would pay a pretty penny.”

“You are one sick puppy, Ms. Valentine,” Adam said as he lifted the camera and pressed record. What the hell, maybe the O’mly are perverts, he thought. After all, a lot of the old stories of alien abduction did involve tales of sexual perversion….

Adam placed a number of small items in a backpack – items for immediate barter, including one of the special flash weapons they carried – and then with Sherri carrying the video camera, they left the Pegasus and headed into town.

* * *

It wasn’t far beyond the gate to the small landing field that they entered the repair and warehouse district for this part of the city. The island where the city was located was large, with a low-lying hill rising up from its center. Tall trees and squatty palms covered the hill, as it appeared the O’mly had done nothing to claim the land for their city. Instead, the living space for the native Prime species consisted of the long, triangular-shaped protrusions jutting out from the island along with a few, unobtrusive roads joining the triangles with each other.

With land available for their settlements, it was obvious the O’mly chose not to use it, probably from some reverence for dry land. As they walked along an avenue boarded by charcoal gray buildings, Adam found this to be disingenuous. After all, the raw material for their buildings and other technology had to come from the land – unless it came from under the sea….

The two Humans rounded a corner and came upon a large, open plaza that ended at the sea. There were several steps leading down into the water – and several O’mly, wearing what looked to be neoprene outfits were either entering or leaving the water. They appeared completely at ease with life above or below the waves, which made Adam wonder how much of their civilization was located underwater and therefore out of view.

Since neither Sherri nor Adam could read alien, Adam had to open several doors to the nearby buildings and peer inside before he found what he was looking for. They entered the bar, and found it to be like so many others on Earth and throughout the galaxy. Nearly all Primes were affected by alcohol, or other drugs all lumped under the heading of intoxicants, and each culture had their gathering spots where those wishing to partake could congregate with other like-minded beings. This one was a little classier than most Adam had frequented; there was actually entertainment provided – which in reality was in the eye and the ear of the beholder. The sight of the two pasty-looking, multi-breasted O’mly females on the stage nearly made Adam vomit, as he unfortunately discovered where O’mly gills were located. It may have seemed like the epitome of biological efficiency that the lungs, gills, reproductive and waste-removal organs were all located in essentially the same spot, but it made Adam gag at the thought of … well, everything.

Adam Cain would be forever amazed at the infinite variety of life in the universe, as well as the myriad of ways there were of building a body.

Luckily for Adam and Sherri, there were a number of other species represented in the bar, although none of which Adam recognized. With this entire mini-interstellar alliance existing so close to Earth – in relative distance to the rest of the galaxy – it was odd, however, that Humanity had not stumbled upon the O’mly in the ten years or so they had been building their empire. Even if a race with gravity-drive wanted to stay hidden, it was very hard to do so, especially in the wide-open spaces of the Far Arm. This was just another testament to the vastness of the galaxy.

Adam sensed a number of energy weapons in the room, in addition to surveillance devices, power equipment and food/beverage processors. The ATD took all this in and immediately began to map hacking paths into their processors. Even though the technology was foreign, the basic operation of electricity was universal. If needed, Adam would be able to take control of nearly everything within the room.

In Adam’s vast experience in dives like this, he knew there would always be an operator of some kind who would be a semi-permanent fixture – the bookie, the loan shark, the drug dealer. This person was always on the lookout for a score of some kind. Adam scanned the room until he came upon the most likely suspect.

Unfortunately, the creature was an O’mly, yet the two bodyguards flanking him were of another race; leathery-looking beasts with gaunt faces and gray – almost white – steely eyes. Their bodies were sinewy, their muscles firm. The O’mly crime boss appeared completely at ease as he sat in a booth at the far end of the room, a vantage point where he could watch the entire bar.

Adam and Sherri approached slowly, both keeping their eyes down and barely glancing up at the O’mly. The two guards stood and flanked them.

“What are you?” the crime boss asked. This seemed to be the most-common first question asked throughout the galaxy.

“We are Jusepi,” Adam said, keeping up the lie.

“I’ve not heard of you. I am Urous, what do you want?”

“We arrived with the Kracori fleet earlier this day, yet our ship is in need of repairs and unfortunately, we do not have any korlons with which to pay.”

“Can the Kracori not assist you? It seems that if you are with them, then who would dare charge you for the repairs?” The O’mly’s voice displayed suspicion and distrust.

“Our communications are down and the lead supervisor at the landing field is holding our ship as collateral, at least for arrival and departure fees. Perhaps you know of this O’mly?”

The crime lord stretched out a wide smile, and his demeanor relaxed. “Yes, I know of him!” The creature let loose with a vibration from deep within his throat – an O’mly laugh? “If he did not work for the government, he would surely be a major competitor of mine; an unscrupulous mid-lander who would trade his entire school for a profit.”

He motioned for the two Humans to sit down across the table from him. The guards remained standing. “So you have come to me to ask for credits. Do you propose a loan or barter? Just to let you know I do not loan credits to off-worlders; you can understand why. But I see you carry pouches with you. What have you brought?”

The quickest solution to Adam’s predicament would be to walk out of the bar with cash in his pocket, so he laid the backpack on the tabletop and opened it. He withdrew an MK-64 bolt launcher, the top of the line in hand-held flash weapons and available only to the elite military of the Expansion. Adam could detect other flash weapons in the room, including those carried by the guards and by Urous, so he wasn’t sure if the O’mly would appreciate the uniqueness of the weapon.

Urous took the handgun and his eyes widened. He turned it over in his hand, admiring the construction and smooth metal construction. “I am not familiar with this model. Is this Kracori?”

“No, it is for the top military in the Expansion—”

“The Expansion; I have heard of this! It spans most of the galaxy. And why would you have a specialized military weapon … unless you are military as well.” The alien’s grip on the MK-64 tightened and Adam could sense the guards tense.

“I – we – advise the Kracori regarding weapon’s technology throughout the galaxy,” he explained. “I have access to any number of advanced weapons and instruments. I would not normally offer such a device for sale, but as you can understand, I am desperate.”

“You have been to other parts of the galaxy, to the Expansion and parts where this weapon is made and where the Kracori spawn?”

“Yes, we have.” This might be the key to gaining the alien’s trust and acceptance. Urous was obviously curious about the galaxy beyond their small alliance. “But I was told the Kracori and the O’mly are allies and as such know all about one another.”

Again the deep-throat vibration. “Who can ever be allies with the Kracori? They are a brutish race only interested in the Kracori. And yet you are affiliated with them … you Jusepi.”

“It is only because of our common enemy, the Humans. We are at war with them, as are the Kracori.”

“Ah, yes, the parasites. We have heard rumors of them; vile bugs who carry deadly diseases. Since the O’mly lack a substantial defense force of our own, we are counting on the Kracori to protect us from this plague that is infecting our part of the galaxy.”

“Yet the Kracori are preparing to leave, to take the battle to the homeworld of the Humans. Are you aware of this?”

“I am aware of everything, off-worlder. You have arrived with the last of their contingent. Even though their presence here has been good for my business, I will gladly see them leave.”

“And leave your world defenseless?”

“If they achieve their objective, then we will have nothing to fear from the Humans. A defense will not be necessary. Now, let us return to business. This talk of politics is boring me.”

Adam nodded. He pointed to the weapon still in the alien’s hand. “I see you are familiar with flash weapons.” He indicated the weapons holstered by Urous’ guards. “I do not know where your weapons originate – either with the Kracori or locally – but this one is far superior to anything you have.”

“We had primitive weapons of our own until the other dry-worlders came and helped improve upon them.”

“Others?”

“Yes, the silver creatures. They have since left; it has been ten, fifteen years or more.”

“The Klin?” Adam had to keep his emotions from exposing his shock, although it should have come as no surprise. The Klin had been watching the Earth for hundreds of years. It only stood to reason that they would know of all the advanced civilizations in the region.

“You are very well-knowledged about the alien races who have visited us. Have you had experience with the silver – the Klin – before?”

“Only in passing,” Adam said quickly. “They are another of the advanced races from the part of the galaxy called the Expansion.”

“Expansion … I do not like the sound of that word,” said Urous, frowning. “It implies a spreading of its influence. The O’mly are not anxious to become absorbed into any outside affiliation, not if it involves so many alien – and advanced – races. It will place the O’mly in a position of servitude.”

“That is the history of the Expansion,” Adam said. “Yet with more weapons like this, you will not have to be placed in that position. Let me explain: Where most hand-held flash weapons have a maximum Level-One capacity of five bolts per charge, the one you are holding has twenty-four.” Adam saw the look of shock and awe on the alien’s face. “That’s right, twenty-four deadly bolts. And then at each lower setting, you double that. Level-Two can kill most creatures, and you will have forty-eight bolts available. And the effective range is nearly double, making this handgun almost as powerful as a Xan-Fi flash rifle.”

“Xan-Fi?”

“Forgive me; it is a brand of flash rifle used in the Expansion.”

Urous looked up from the weapon and narrowed his eyes. “Where exactly do the Jusepi come from? I assumed you come from the Arm, and not from this so-called Expansion.”

“Yes, we are of the Arm. But as I said, we are advisors to the Kracori regarding weapons systems. We have traveled extensively throughout the Expansion, gathering intelligence and securing exotic weapons for our client and ally.”

Urous stared at the two Humans for a moment longer before finally nodding. “You are aware that the sale of weapons is an illegal activity on Aslon? Just the offering of this weapon to me can place you in containment.” Adam remained silent, waiting to see where Urous was going with this. “What is it you wish for this, and do you have more?”

“I have three more on my ship.” He smiled at the alien. “I would, however, wish to keep one for myself. I will sell you this one for a thousand korlons. That will be enough for the docking fees and for the repairs we need.”

Urous vibrated in his throat again. “One thousand! That is far more than you require for the docking fees – unless our friend Limous is looking to extort even more than usual from you. And the repairs – I can rebuild an entire spaceship for that much.” Urous looked at the MK-64 again. “I will give you three hundred … and I will not report you to the authorities. I believe that is a bargain. And I will pay the same for two more of these. With that you will have almost your one-thousand korlons.”

Adam looked to Sherri. He frowned, just for effect. He knew he would take the credits; he just needed to make Urous believe he knew he was being robbed. Creatures like Urous needed to feel superior to their customers.

“Seeing that we are desperate – and under a deadline – I accept your offer.”

“Very good! But first I must test this weapon. How do I know it does all you say it does?”

“That’s acceptable. How do you propose we test it?”

Urous pointed the weapon at Adam’s chest. “This is one way.” He smiled. “Or we could go outside where Hyiuon’s customers won’t be so upset by the discharge of a weapon within his establishment.”

Urous stood and led the parade of customers and guards out of the bar. The Aslon star was setting, and the street had grown dim. Streetlights illuminated pyramids of a dull yellow light that did little to penetrate the thickening darkness. Urous turned into a side alley, but before he did, he motioned to one of his guards with a nod. The leather-skinned creature grabbed a passing O’mly by the back of the neck and shoved him into the alley. The native appeared to be young, a teenager possibly. He displayed a terrified expression, alternating his vision between all the creatures in the alley.

“Please do not harm me! I have done nothing to offend,” he pleaded. The hulking guard held him firmly in place.

“Relax, citizen,” Urous said. “I do not intend to hurt you.” He then lifted the MK-64 and sent a tight, blue-white bolt of energy into the chest of the teenager. The guard released the limp body and let it slip to the ground.

“See, that did not hurt at all, did it?” Urous cocked his head, as if listening for the reply to his question that never came. He looked over at Adam and Sherri; both expressions of shock and disgust on their faces. “I’m sure at this very moment he feels no pain.” He looked down at the power monitor on the rail barrel of the MK. It had barely moved.

“This is magnificent!” he said, holding the weapon up to his guards. “And it uses standard power packs?”

“Yes it does,” Adam answered, now growing cautious as the guards slowly slipped in behind him and Sherri. He knew what was coming next.

Urous stepped in closer to Adam. “This weapon is surely worth three hundred korlons. However, the problem I have at this time is that since it is illegal to sell weapons, it is also illegal to buy them. Therefore, I believe I will simply take this weapon as a gift. If you wish to bring me the other two – no, the other three – then I will consider a korlon exchange for those. This initial transaction will be a sign of goodwill on your part.”

Adam looked at Sherri, a thin, wry grin on his face. He looked at Urous next. “I’m afraid that won’t do. We need the korlons now, and as a matter of fact, I do insist on the thousand for this weapon. Three hundred is far too low.”

The O’mly criminal looked genuinely confused. “I do not understand; are you Jusepi insane to some degree? You are in no position to bargain.” He pointed the weapon at Adam’s forehead. “You are an alien with an attitude, and I do not tolerate such things. Let us forgo any future transactions; I will take this one and be satisfied.”

He pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He pulled it again and again. “You have attempted to sell me a defective weapon! You deceive me. Juious, Maineln, kill them!”

Sherri was the first to react. In the lighter gravity of Aslon, her movements were swift as lightning. She spun around and sent a fist into the side of the nearest guard. As was customary when a Human struck an alien, the sound of cracking bone was loud and distinctive. The leather-skinned being buckled over, and when Sherri followed through with a crushing left to the beast’s head, it was all over.

Adam, in the meantime, had whipped his right leg around and tripped the second guard, sending him tumbling to the ground even as alien withdrew his own flash weapon. Adam didn’t follow through; instead he stood and watched with an amused grin as the guard began to trigger the device … along with the ever-increasing look of panic each time the gun remained silent. Tiring of this, Adam sent a powerful kick to the guard’s head.

Urous stood with his back against a wall of the alley, his eyes wide with shock. His mouth began to tremble as the Human approached. Adam snatched the MK-64 from the alien, pointed it down the alley and pulled the trigger. A brilliant flash erupted from the barrel.

“I believe it is time to renegotiate our original transaction,” he said to the trembling crime lord. “Since it is illegal for us to do a deal, I believe a simple charitable contribution would be in order. Empty your pockets!”

The native complied, and Adam was soon in possession of over five thousand korlons. “Now doesn’t that make you feel all warm inside? You have donated to a very worthy cause.”

Next he leaned in closer to the alien, until their faces were only inches apart. “Now, I can let you live … or you can die right here. The choice is yours. But I must warn you, if you report any of this to anyone, I will find you and I will kill you. Do you believe me?”

Urous nodded rapidly.

Adam smiled. He stood back, and on an impulse, handed the MK-64 back to Urous. The alien was shocked and at first refused to take it.

“Go ahead. These weapons do not affect us, so take it. I make it a gift … in exchange for your contribution. Just remember what I said. Say nothing or you will die.”

Adam turned to Sherri and cocked his head toward the main street. They began to move off. At the intersection of the alley and the street, Adam turned to look at Urous again. The alien was looking at the MK, unsure what to do. “Go ahead, try it,” Adam commanded.

With an angry, determined looked, Urous raised the weapon at Adam and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He then pointed it down the alley and tried again. This time the alley was filled with a brilliant white flash. Urous looked at Adam with a look of confusion and panic.

“You have no idea what we’re capable of,” he said to the alien. “Don’t attempt to find out.”

Once on the street, the two Humans hurried toward the spaceport. Sherri glanced at a smug-looking Adam Cain. “On second thought, I might consider getting me one of those nifty devices,” she said. “I can see where they can come in handy.”

For a reply, Adam just smiled wider, as a small ball of bright static electricity formed above his head.

“Oh my,” Sherri said, “now he’s having delusions of grandeur!”

Chapter 22

Nigel McCarthy…

When the room in the laboratory complex was clear of the Human prisoners, Kronis stepped up to McCarthy and began to slap his face multiple times. Even though he was only pretending to be unconscious, Nigel finally had enough. He opened his eyes and glared at the huge alien.

“Ah, you are awake. Are your thoughts functioning? You did take a severe beating at the hands of your own kind. You Humans are a strange race indeed.”

“I understand you, Kronis,” Nigel managed to say while acting as though each word was a struggle.

“Excellent! Now tell me about the treasure.”

“Only for my freedom. Let me get to my ship and leave, then it will all be yours.”

“Yes, yes, that is acceptable, but what treasure do you speak of?”

Nigel pretended to doze off again, but quickly opened his eyes before Kronis could hit him again. He’d been hit enough for one day. “It’s the bounty from our earlier days of pirating. We’ve built a sizeable fortune.”

“How sizeable?” Monick asked.

“I would say it’s in the range of fifty million Expansion credits.”

Nigel was relieved to see the eyes of the three scientists grow large with excitement. “That is indeed a sizeable amount, Ma-Jor,” Kronis said. “Even though the three of us intend to use our medallions to acquire even more wealth over time, having this treasure to begin with shall be quite helpful. Where is it kept?”

“Not until I have been seen to medically, and have been guaranteed that you will set me free.”

“You have our guarantee, but what of your other Humans? Do you wish their freedom as well?”

“Why should I? They nearly killed me. And your guarantee is questionable. After all, look what you have done to my men.”

“The other Humans serve no purpose,” Monick stated. “You have value. We will keep our word to you.”

“Good. Then get me some medical care. I believe some of my ribs are broken, and I may also have a skull fracture.”

The third scientist released the wheel-locks on the table where he rested and the trio began to push him into another room three doors down from his current location in the laboratory complex. As he moved down the corridor, lying on his back with his eyes closed, he could feel the presence of his medallions growing ever-stronger. Within seconds he knew they were in a room adjacent to where they moved him. He was now within range.

Nigel McCarthy activated one of the medallions and established a clear link between his mind and the device. His senses suddenly came alive, as the tiny artificial telepathy module began to scan all the electronics within most of the base. He turned his head as two of the scientists rushed off to get medicines, as well as an alien x-ray machine to scan for his supposedly broken ribs. Now only Kronis remained in the room.

The large alien – who resembled a talking silverback gorilla – turned his back on Nigel and activated a bank of medical monitors at a nearby console. McCarthy used the opportunity to release the latch on his collar restraint. Then he slipped off the table and approached the alien from behind.

Kronis’s acute eyesight spotted Nigel’s reflection in one of the monitors. Although he had excellent eyesight, his movements were slow and uncoordinated, so Nigel simply reached around the alien’s thick neck and ripped the medallion away from his body. He then tossed it to the floor and shattered it with the heel of his boot.

The large Vizzen inhaled sharply as his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed back onto the medical console. His fainting spell lasted only a moment.

“What have you done? That was my only attuned module!”

“Tough shit, Kronis, now stay here.”

Nigel left the small examination room and activated the electronic lock with a thought, securing the alien scientist inside. Next to it was the data center where his back-up medallions were secured. They were in a cabinet with a coded access pad where the narcotics were also stored. It was child’s play for Nigel to hack into the microprocessor for the locking mechanism and break the code. He opened the cabinet and fumbled around inside until he found a shiny metal box that seemed to draw him to it. He flipped open the lid and found his three medallions. Instinctively he knew which one had been fully activated. He pulled it from the box and wrapped the silver chain around his neck. After placing the other two in a pocket of his pants, he lifted the silver disk from his chest and looked down at it lovingly. Let this be the last time I’m ever without one of these things, he thought. The bond with the medallion was complete, and he would have sworn the device returned the sentiment.

He heard a commotion outside the office and when he opened the door, the other two scientists were in the corridor. They had used their own medallions to unlock the door to the examine room and Kronis was just then passing through the doorway. The three aliens panicked when they saw Nigel; Monick went to draw the MK-17 he wore around his skinny waist, but it wasn’t quick enough.

Nigel was tired of playing games with these aliens. Besides, he had taken quite a beating by his men – especially Garrett Linfield – and he was looking to transfer some of the pain he felt to someone else. So he stepped into the tall alien and inserted a short, yet powerful right hand into the creature’s solar plexus – if he had a solar plexus. The alien was stunned and offered no resistance as Nigel ripped the MK from his hand and then placed a Level-2 bolt into the chest of the scientist.

The third scientist was taller and more athletic than Kronis, so Nigel pointed the weapon at him next and pulled the trigger, after which he aimed it at Kronis.

Once again, the eyes of the fat alien rolled back in his head and he passed out, this time crumbling to the metal floor of the corridor. While waiting for him to regain consciousness, Nigel removed the medallions from around the necks of the two dead aliens and placed them in another pocket of his pants.

Kronis was moaning now, and Nigel grabbed him by the arm and lifted him to a standing position. “You have one chance to save your life … and only one,” Nigel growled at the traitorous scientist. “You will place all the files on how to build and tune the medallions onto a mobile drive and then destroy all the originals.”

“Of course, Ma-Jor, will do all you ask … for my life!”

“Lead the way, Kronis.”

Half an hour later, Nigel McCarthy was in possession of a small, hand-held data card containing all he would need to build more telepathy devices. He corrected his thought process: information needed for others to build the devices. If there was one thing Nigel McCarthy was not, it was a scientist. But he would find others who were, and with the plan that had been echoing in his brain since the last time he’d spoken with Captain Mark Henderson aboard the Phoenix, he could soon have all the resources necessary to rebuild his criminal empire.

Yet before boarding one of the nine Exitor-class spaceships docked at the base and heading for his next destination, McCarthy had one last task to tend to.

He stepped over the corpse of Kronis Nur and headed for the hangar where the other Humans were being held. He opened the door, sending brilliant light from the outer corridor flooding inside. The dismal array of Human survivors squinted through the light, struggling to make out the figure standing in the doorway. When they saw it was Nigel, their faces lit up. His plan had worked! They were free.

In their joy and relief, the prisoners failed to see the MK-17 held in Nigel’s right hand, along with the three extra power packs in his left. Even as the first deadly Level-1 bolts struck the men around them, the last to die were still smiling at the end, with tears of joy flowing down their gaunt cheeks.

Chapter 23

Adam Cain…

As the two Humans entered the spaceport, Adam began to detect the distinctive signatures of flash weapons aboard the Pegasus. He had been half-expecting this, knowing that the O’mly named Limous seemed anxious to take possession of Adam’s ship. A cycle on Aslon could be a day or an hour. Either way, Adam could sense a conflict coming. He told Sherri of his findings.

“I’ll be ready,” she said. “Just be careful. Those fingernails of his look deadly.”

They approached the open hatch to the Pegasus where two O’mly stood guard, stern and serious looks on their faces. They said nothing as Adam and Sherri entered the ship. Limous was found in the pilothouse, seated as best he could manage in the smallish – for an O’mly – pilot’s seat.

“I have the korlons you need,” Adam said without waiting to be asked.

Limous nodded. “That is very good. You Jusepi are very resourceful.” He turned his attention back to the pilot’s console. “You have a remarkable ship here, quite advanced. I do not believe you told me your name?”

“Names are familiar, and your guide specifically warned against becoming too familiar with the O’mly. If it matters, I am Kaylor Linn Todd.” Kaylor was actually the name of Adam’s most-trusted alien friend. A Belsonian, it had been Kaylor and his co-pilot Jym who had saved his life – for the first time – many years ago.

“Well, Arolus Linn Todd, as I mentioned, this is a remarkable ship, one I believe is well-beyond the technical capabilities of your race. Yes, I have done some research since last we met. I do know that your race is at war with the parasitic Human race, an event that only just began within the past two forgon-cycles. If your people indeed possess this level of technology, then I believe the war will be short-lived and with your people as the victors.”

“One can only hope that will be the outcome,” Adam said. “Now, may I pay the docking fees and depart. We will tolerate the viewscreen situation until we return to Duelux, our homeworld.”

“Are you not going to accompany your allies the Kracori on their mission to Earth? It appears that with the firepower of the Kracori and the advanced technology of the Jusepi, the evil Humans will not stand a chance against your combined assault.”

“We have served our function for the fleet. It is now time to return home.” Adam detected the arrival of three more beings, each carrying flash weapons of a more refined design, as well as sophisticated comm devices. These creatures would be different than the O’mly. He turned his gaze toward Sherri, his grave expression communicating his concern. Her mouth fell open slightly, wishing she could come out and ask the question. It wasn’t necessary, because just then three tall, gray, leather-skinned aliens entered the already crowded pilothouse. They were Kracori.

With Adam and Sherri outnumbered three to one, these new aliens did not fear the Humans, so their weapons remained holstered as they entered. The Kracori with a red sash crossing his chest walked up to Adam and Sherri, towering over them by over a foot. The Kracori raised an eyebrow attached to one of the many boney plates that made up his forehead. “This is an unexpected circumstance, Limous,” he said while staring down at Adam. “It seems you have not discovered a cache of Jusepi within your midst … but rather a couple of Humans.”

The O’mly dockmaster jumped up out of the seat, his eyes wide as he drew his weapon. “Am I contaminated? I do not believe I have had physical contact with them, but their ship – I have touched the controls!” His voice was a high-pitched squeal.

The Kracori smiled and waved his hand. “No, you are safe, Limous. Not all Humans spread the diseases we have warned you of. These two appear to be non-carriers. Now leave us, and secure the door behind you.”

The Kracori continued to stare at Adam with an amused look on this rough-hewn face while all the O’mly in the pilothouse exited as quickly as possible and the door was closed. When they were alone, the Kracori leader shoved his way past Adam and sat in the coveted pilot’s seat. He scanned the console.

“You are the ones who have been following us.” It was a statement not a question. “We, too, have advanced tracking technology; you were detected over a thousand light-years ago by trailing drones.” He activated the pilot’s console and watched as the systems flashed online. “By the rate of pursuit and the size of your ship’s signature, we debated whether or not you were Human. I have to admit, most did not believe it to be so.” He spun the chair around and looked up at Adam. “And yet here you are. We knew there was a possibility our passage might be detected by your kind; we were actually surprised when we were not. So your presence here is not that unexpected. Yet it is this ship that has me the most intrigued. It does raise all manner of questions and concerns.”

The Kracori commander keyed his comm link. “Ludif Oninn, I will be taking this ship to the fleet for examination. Accompany us in defense. We will depart in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, my Lord. We are prepared.”

The Kracori addressed one of the other two aliens in the room. “Get all the O’mly off the ship and have Limous clear us for departure.”

“What about the docking fees?” Adam said with a grin. “Aren’t you going to pay him for services rendered?”

The Kracori returned the smile. “The O’mly are mere bugs as they relate to galactic affairs; Limous will not stand in the way of our departure. Now, I trust you will not cause any trouble as you pilot your ship to the fleet. I’m sure this has been your goal all along – to learn of our strength and intent. For what good it will do you, all is about to be revealed.”

* * *

Two hours later, the Pegasus was closing in on a massive Class-5 battlecruiser of familiar circular design. Even though Adam was sure there were dozens, if not hundreds, of other ships in the vicinity, he could only see eight on his monitors. They were all Class-5’s.

The Pegasus easily fit into one of the two massive landing bays of the Kracori ship, which Adam assumed was the flagship for the fleet. Once inside, hatches were sealed and atmosphere was pumped into the cavernous chamber. When Adam shut down the Pegasus, including the internal gravity wells, both he and Sherri noticed the tiny weight differential between their Earth-normal gravity and that of the Kracori ship. Both races came from worlds with almost identical surface gravity. Here, Adam and Sherri would have no strength or quickness advantage. The Klin had selected the Kracori to be their partners in galactic domination because of their strength, toughness and coordination, the same reasons they had selected the Human race to go up against the Juireans. In many regards, Human and Kracori were brother races, nearly identical in every aspect except appearance. So there would be no superman antics for Sherri and Adam aboard the alien spacecraft. Adam would have to rely on his ATD to save their hides.

It had been years since Adam and Sherri were in the company of so many Kracori – not since the battle for Juir. Unlike the ancient Juireans, the Kracori chose to crew all their ships exclusively with their own kind. For the Juireans, it was unusual to find more than a handful of Juireans aboard their warships, content to use a number of other races to serve as crew and technical support.

As the two Humans left the Pegasus, they were passed by a dozen anxious Kracori entering the ship, armed with monitoring and testing equipment, as well as two Kracori carrying recording devices. Adam’s ship was about to get the equivalent of an anal probe by the aliens. He hoped they didn’t tear things apart in their quest for knowledge concerning the ship’s operation. After all, in just a while Adam and Sherri would have to use the Pegasus to make their escape.

Yet for the moment, they were content to serve as prisoners aboard the Kracori warship. Every minute that went by provided them with more information they could take back to Earth, as the ATD was cataloguing the data and charting all the electronics aboard the ship. There were dozens of systems that would have to be taken over if Adam were to gain control of the ship. It would be possible, yet it would be a test of his current level of expertise with the ATD. A disruption of the ship’s systems might be all he could really expect, yet something major enough to allow for their escape. But only if the Pegasus could survive the examination she was about to undergo….

The Kracori didn’t bother placing restraints on the Humans; they were displaying their over-confidence, a product of the arrogance of the warrior class, and a secure feeling being aboard their powerful starship surrounded by their comrades.

Adam and Sherri were taken to officer-country and led to the fleet admiral’s suite. Adam knew the Kracori didn’t use rank like captains and admirals, yet the hierarchy was the same no matter the nomenclature. The ranking Kracori wore a yellow sash across his chest, and a number of tech-types in green uniforms were also in the room.

“Be seated,” the commander ordered; he was a barrel-chested, older-looking Kracori with exceptionally-wrinkled gray skin. What hair he had atop his head was now white rather than the traditional gray. He was fit and trim, even in his later years; a common trait of senior military no matter the race. “My name is Runor Cresst, senior officer of the Kracori Fleet in this sector,” he stated. “This is a unique opportunity for me and my staff to experience our enemy first-hand … and to look directly into the eyes of our tormentors.”

The Humans sat on a wide sofa, their feet barely reaching the edge of the cushions. They looked like Hobbits in the land of giants. The fleet commander sat in a large chair opposite the two and sent a scathing glare at each of them. “Your race has brought such anguish to my people that I need extreme restraint not to summarily execute the two of you out of pure hatred and relieve you of your Legends. Yet I will control my emotions … at least for the moment.

“As we have traveled farther into Human territory, we knew it would harder to keep our presence a secret,” Runor explained. “So we have been on the alert for any ships appearing along our route. When yours appeared, we were quite curious of its origin, plus the uniqueness of its energy signature was a concern. The advanced nature of the ship is giving us pause with our current operation, at least until we assess its pervasiveness throughout your military forces. It has not taken long to determine that your vessel could easily outpace even our fastest warships, as well as transit areas which larger ships cannot normally access.”

As he spoke, the techs in the room were busy at datapad stations, analyzing the data being sent from the Pegasus in real time. This information was being fed to the large pad sitting on the lap of the commander. He would glance down at it occasionally and scan the latest findings.

“As you have probably already deduced, this fleet is being assembled for an assault upon your homeworld. My technicians inform me that the CW-array on your ship has been damaged beyond repair and that you do not possess more primitive interstellar comm equipment that was once the standard throughout the Expansion. So I am to believe that you have not warned your world of our presence in the Far Arm. Is this correct?”

“You expect us to answer your question just like that!” Sherri blurted out. “Whether or not the Earth has been warned will have to remain a mystery. Apparently you’ll find out soon enough.”

“What is your name, female?” Runor asked, an annoyed expression now crossing his face.

Sherri hesitated.

“Come now, what is a name among the countless members of your race? What great secret could disclosing your name reveal?”

“Just call me Cinderella, dickhead.”

Just then Runor glanced down at his pad. When he looked up again, his expression had changed to one of almost unbridled excitement. “We Kracori are not some backward race devoid of high technology and advanced data-processing. We have run your images through our system and your true identities have now been exposed. I am near a loss to believe this, but you are the famous Sherri Valentine—” then turning his attention to Adam, “—along with the notorious Adam Cain. How is it that the universe can be so large yet I have in my possession two of the most-infamous Humans to ever exist?”

Runor turned to another Kracori officer who was sitting toward the back of the room. “Samen, I believe our Klin partners would welcome this information. Please inform them.”

The officer stood and left the room.

“Yes, it is true; the Kracori and Klin are allies once again in the struggle against your kind. And since you evoked the name of the Jusepi, then it is obvious you know of the new skirmish that has erupted between them and your kind. You now have three enemies all conspiring to put an end to your race. And yet it is this fleet that will bring about the ultimate demise of Human-kind.”

“You’ve tried this before,” Adam said, speaking for the first time. “What makes you think you’ll have better luck this time around?”

“A fair question, Adam Cain. We know of the strength of your military, and how even if we were to send all our military might against you, it would still not be enough, not when considering the vast distances our fleet would have to travel and the prolonged engagement such an attack would require.” The Kracori officer paused, leaving Adam to fill in the silence.

“So why do it? You know you can’t win. Earth is too closely guarded, thanks in part to the last time the Kracori tried to strike the planet.”

“Agreed! And that is where the wonder of this plan is to be admired. You must understand that the Jusepi war is simply a diversion. Even as we speak, the defenders of Earth are speeding away toward Jusepi space in an effort to make quick work of the uprising. According to our Klin allies, the debate on your planet was lively, as each side argued for either a more-modest response to the revolt or for an all-out assault using all the forces available. One argument would involve a longer, more drawn-out campaign; the other would get the conflict over quickly. And even though this would leave Earth temporarily unprotected, it was an acceptable risk for a quick resolution to the crisis. In the end, the remaining Klin surrogates on your world were able to influence the final decision.”

“So you’ll be free to strike a near-defenseless world….”

“Correct, Adam Cain, it will be the ultimate solution to the death-veil your people have imposed on the Kracori. We also know the Humans are aware of the location of Elision, so I’m sure you will appreciate the urgency – as well as the necessity – of our actions. You have left us no choice.”

“I was told on Aslon that the last of your fleet has arrived. So is that to mean the attack will commence soon?”

Runor frowned. “You were told this by the O’mly? I find this very disturbing, yet one of the unfortunate circumstances of having to rely on others to provide our staging area.” He entered something into his datapad. “The O’mly are such an insignificant race, with nothing to offer the Kracori in the long-term. You, Adam Cain, have helped me reach a decision to a dilemma I have been struggling with for a while. Now when we depart this system for Earth, the fleet will conduct practice fire upon Aslon. It will be a fitting rehearsal to the destruction of Earth.”

“You’ll destroy an entire civilization just for target practice?” Sherri shouted. “When Humans do wipe your miserable world out of existence, the galaxy will be much better off. Your kind doesn’t deserve to live.”

‘Do not be so melodramatic, Sherri Valentine. Your people are about to do the same to the Jusepi.”

“We won’t indiscriminately attack civilian populations, only those fighting against us.”

“Do you honestly believe that? Humans and Kracori are one and the same; it was the reason the Klin chose our two races to serve our particular functions in their ultimate plan. We are two savage races who were always destined to rule the galaxy. Humans had that opportunity, and yet you gave it up. Now it will be the Kracori’s turn.”

He stopped abruptly and his tone turned deadly serious. He looked at Adam. “Now tell me, does your fleet also employ the advanced gravity-drive as does your ship? If so, then the transit time from Jusepi space back to Earth would be greatly reduced and my plans will have to be altered. I must know the extent of this technology within your fleet!”

Adam simply smiled. He now possessed information the Kracori commander desperately needed. He wasn’t exactly sure how the alien would go about extracting it from them, but for now he was enjoying watching the gray creature squirm.

Chapter 24

The Klin…

Anorn Elsinum was one of only four Klin on the planet Aslon, cloistered away in a special section of the Kracori base on one of the larger islands in the Southern Sea. The water world had a more comfortable gravity for the tall, silver-skinned being, much more tolerable than the oppressive gravity aboard the Kracori warships. It was much easier for the heavy-worlders to accommodate less gravity than it was for the opposite, so it was rare that a Klin would visit the fleet.

Yet Anorn was the one to receive the call from the Kracori officer regarding the capture of the two Humans, an event for which his immediate presence aboard the flagship was requested. At first he was at a loss as to why he was being informed of the capture in the first place, let alone why his presence was required. Yet the Kracori officer on the link seemed to think the names of the two aliens relayed to him should hold some significance.

Adam Cain and Sherri Valentine; Anorn shook his head after struggling to recall the names from his memory. Nothing … just two odd names of no importance to him.

Eventually, he went to the Kracori data center and requested a terminal. As always happened when the Kracori had to deal with a Klin, the clerk in the center regarded him with unbridled contempt. Anorn was always confused at this reaction; it had been the Kracori who revolted against the Klin, killing over two thousand of his kind, so if anyone should show distain and contempt, it should be the Klin towards to Kracori. And yet the Klin did not react that way. Instead, they accepted the fact of the loss … and then immediately began to make plans for revenge against the Kracori.

Yet the Klin revenge would be more subtle than visible contempt. It would be well-planned and could take place over generations. The Klin were patient. Only when the time was right would the Kracori experience the full wrath of the Klin.

But first the Human situation had to be resolved, and that was the only reason the Klin and Kracori were now allies once again.

The Kracori clerk reluctantly activated a terminal for Anorn, and then it was only seconds before the significance of the two Humans was revealed. As Anorn read the report, he kept thinking that he should have known this, since the events he read about had had such a major impact on the fate of the Klin. Adam Cain – and to a lesser degree, Sherri Valentine – had been a major thorn in the side of the Klin for going on fifteen years. In fact, it had been because of the Human male that the timetable for the start of the Juirean War had been accelerated. It could be argued that this single event was enough to cause the entire plan to fall apart, resulting in the Kracori sacking of Juir – not the Klin – and leading to the Humans assuming control of the Expansion – not the Klin. Even the Kracori revolt against the Klin could be traced back to Adam Cain and his escape from Marishal. Cain’s forewarning the Humans of the Klin plans had left the Kracori in a difficult position, with the Klin now useless to them. A revolt was inevitable, along with the deaths of all his Klin brothers and sisters.

Even the death of the great Pleabaen Summlin was the result of Cain’s escape from the planet Marishal. Summlin had led the Klin for over a hundred years, bringing the race the closest they had ever come to getting the revenge they had sought against the Juireans for over four-thousand years. And it had been the Human Adam Cain who had ruined it all.

And now the notorious Adam Cain was a prisoner aboard the Kracori flagship. Yes, Anorn would have to don a lightweight exo-suit and journey to the Kracori ship; Cain was too important a prisoner to be left in the custody of the Kracori. Besides, the more Anorn thought about it, he wondered who was in the most danger at the time, Adam Cain or the Kracori? Now fully-briefed on the background of the two Humans, he was pretty sure it was the Kracori.

Chapter 25

Adam Cain…

Adam and Sherri were taken from the Fleet Commander’s quarters and placed in the brig. The Kracori had an actual jail aboard their ship, which made him wonder about relationships between Kracori, since the jail had not been built specifically to hold them. Maybe Humans and the Kracori were just two sides of the same coin….

There were only two cells, and they were faced with a clear glass wall with a door set in it and secured by an electronic lock. Once they were inside and the Kracori guards had moved back to their stations, Sherri leaned in close to Adam and whispered, “How long are we going to stay here?” Her voice was low and muddied just in case their conversations were monitored.

Adam covered his mouth and cupped his hand, directing the sound towards Sherri. “A while longer; we still don’t know the strength of the fleet or the timetable for the attack.”

Sherri hugged him, placing her mouth next to his ear. “You’re sure you can get us out of here?”

“About eighty-two point six percent sure.”

Sherri pulled away and looked at him with a puzzled look. “I thought the odds would be higher,” she whispered.

Adam smiled. “There’s a whole shit-load of gadgets and gizmos operating here … and remember I’m still a rookie. It’s hard for me to keep everything straight.”

Sherri’s expression changed to one of concern. “I hadn’t thought of that. And what about the Pegasus, what if they tear her apart before we leave?”

“If that’s the case, then we’ll have to take over this whole damn ship.” His smile conveyed confidence, yet his eyes were clouded with doubt.

Sherri took Adam by the arm and led him to the only cot in the cell. “Then you better lie down here and get to work.”

“I thought you said I was being lazy for lounging around all the time getting fat?”

“Just do it,” she commanded, pushing him down on the bed. “Now you and your ATD get to work … and no sleeping on the job!”

* * *

The first thing Adam did was find a link with the Pegasus. His ship was within half-a-mile of his present location, so theoretically he could have complete control of the ship. He activated the internal monitors and did a quick scan of the ship’s present condition. Everything seemed to still be functioning, even though he did detect that the Kracori technicians were in the generator room and currently attempting to gain access to the main computer. Several of the covers had been removed from the generator components with probes attached to the circuits. Multiple-array drives were commonplace, yet it was the intricate arrangement and seemingly impossible overlapping of the focusing rings that had the technicians baffled.

Adam tapped into the various datapads carried by the techs and had the ATD translate the entries that had been made. A recent directive had been given instructing them to do all they could to gain access to the computer, the purpose to see if this technology were widespread among the Humans forces. If this question could be answered, then Adam and Sherri would become worthless to the Kracori. It was also obvious from the tone of the communications that the Kracori believed they had all the time in the world to dissect the Pegasus. The Human ship was now aboard the Kracori flagship, and the two Human pilots would soon be dead or turned over to the Klin. Either way, the ship was now the property of Kracori military and would remain so forever.

Adam Cain was of a different opinion.

He commanded the ATD to send a debilitating virus from the computer aboard the Pegasus to the datapads used by the techs. This would erase all data on the devices, and once the source of the virus was detected, it would give the Kracori pause to try hacking the ship’s computer again.

After the virus was delivered, Adam smiled at the panicked communications going back and forth between the technical crew and the military leaders. The military types insisted that they try again. The scientists and engineers refused, saying that the virus could possibly spread throughout the entire computer system of the flagship. This caused the brass to reconsider their order. A tense period of indecision followed.

Sherri was leaning against a wall of the cell and noticed Adam’s wide grin. He saw her looking at him and gave her a wink. She smiled back, content in the knowledge that Adam was making progress.

Next Adam tapped into the computer system of the flagship. Since all the data was in Kracori, it was difficult for him to decipher what he was looking for. Fleet numbers and operational orders were in there somewhere, he just needed to find them. The problem, he found out, was that once data was entered into the computer, either by written or verbal means, it was converted to an electronic code that effectively spelled out everything in the Kracori written language. If it had been verbal, then the translation device could search for certain words and phrases. He set the ATD to work deciphering the written language, at least to find these corresponding keywords he could then search for. In the meantime, he accessed the latest communications between Commander Runor and the Kracori command back on Elision. These transmissions were both visual and verbal. Adam pulled up an algorithm searching for any reference to fleet size and readiness.

It wasn’t long before he had his first hit. It had been a link only a few minutes ago, as Runor informed Elision of the capture of Adam and Sherri. It appeared that Command shared Runor’s concern for the tech level of the Human fleet, even though the Klin had assured them that there had been no great breakthroughs in gravity-drive technology being used by the Humans.

The Kracori were being cautious. The three-hundred-two ships within the fleet were ready to deploy as soon as confirmation was received that the Jusepi and Human forces had joined battle. That confirmation could come at any time, Runor was informed, and he was ordered to prepare his fleet for departure from the staging area.

Runor would comply, even though he repeated his concern regarding the gravity-drive of the Pegasus. Eventually, another officer on the link back on Elision had pointed out that since the Human fleet had not as yet arrived at Duelux, then the Humans must not be employing this revolutionary type of gravity-drive. If they had, then the battle would have been joined long before this.

The officer was immediately congratulated for his astute observation and Runor was authorized to leave the Aslon system and proceed to Earth at his discretion.

And what of the Human captives?

Runor was informed that a Klin representative would be arriving at the flagship within the hour to take possession of the prisoners. It was a tradeoff for the Kracori retaining possession of the Human starship. It seemed that once the Klin had been informed of the identities of the two Humans, they had been quite anxious to meet them.

Runor had joked with Command on Elision that it was too bad these two Humans would be removed from his ship. He had to explain the punch line to his superiors by saying that in a week or so, the Human race would be essentially extinct, with their kind to be found only in zoos and museums. The two Humans he held captive could become very rare indeed, and worth a lot of credits in the future.

The Kracori back on Elision now shared the joke, while wishing Runor luck on his mission to destroy the Human homeworld of Earth.

Once the link was cut, Adam had the bulk of the information he sought. He knew the fleet was three-hundred-two ships in strength and that it would depart momentarily. What he didn’t know was how the Kracori fleet expected to deliver the death-blow to Earth, yet he assumed it would be nuclear; the Kracori had tried this before. Yet that attack had only had ten ships to carry it out. This one was thirty-times that size.

It seemed as though this time the Kracori were serious about destroying the Human race.

Next Adam began mapping out an escape route, not within the ship, but within the ship’s electronics. He not only had to provide cover for Sherri and him to leave the ship in the Pegasus, but he also had to figure out a way to keep the fleet from immediately following them. With the diminished focusing ring array on his ship, he would only be slightly faster than the fastest Class-5 in the fleet. Arriving on Earth only an hour or so ahead of the aliens wouldn’t provide them enough time to mount a defense for an attack they were not aware was coming. The ship’s standard radio would be useless since the Pegasus would be arriving in the system at faster-than-light speeds. The planet would not be warned until their physical arrival.

And now he had a deadline for devising a plan and putting it into motion. There was a Klin coming to take them from the Kracori ship; that he couldn’t allow.

Adam closed his eyes and fought against the frustration he was feeling. His ATD could do so much when he was within range, and a half-mile was plenty when aboard a specific starship. Yet what about the other three-hundred-one ships in the fleet? He thought about trying to link up with Arieel back on Formil and ask for her advice. They could communicate near instantly across interstellar distances by riding along Continuous-Wormhole links. CW-communication was able to open microscopic wormholes between two points and keep them open for as long as an hour at a time. CW had revolutionized communications across the galaxy.

Adam began to search for a CW-link heading in toward the bulk of the galaxy. Once he found one, then he would create a phantom point using his ATD and then piggyback dozens of other links until he found the path to Formil and Arieel’s own module. Once that link was established, then they could communication telepathically for even longer than traditional CW links.

CW had changed the galaxy, and now nearly all advanced ships used the technology for their communications, even when traditional radio waves would have sufficed….

Adam suddenly sat up on the cot, his eyes wide. Sherri jumped at his sudden movement. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said quickly. “But I think I just came up with an idea that could be … well incredible, if it works.”

Sherri looked around the cell quickly, frowning. She knew others were probably listening in on their conversation and didn’t want Adam, in his excitement, to alert the Kracori of a possible escape plan.

Adam smiled and nodded. He then fell back on the cot and closed his eyes. This was going to take a lot of concentration.

First Adam tapped into the communication system for the flagship and found what he was looking for. At any given moment, there were literally hundreds of CW–links going back and forth between the ships of the fleet, and being aboard the flagship meant all the others were coordinating through fleet command. Adam tried an experiment.

He hopped a ride on a link going to one of the nearby ships and was able to establish a subliminal connection with that ship’s central CW-comm computer. After checking that the link was solid and would exist even if the overlying link were cut, he began to see if he could drill deeper into the computer system of the other Kracori ship using the CW-computer as an access point.

The effort was exhausting, as Adam found that he first had to command the ATD to create a ghost version of itself aboard the other ship before he could venture beyond the CW computer. However, once this was done, Adam he was able to convey commands from his ATD directly to the ghost ATD, as if he were aboard the other ship himself. It wasn’t a fast process, but now Adam could bip around throughout the electronics of the faraway Kracori ship even though it could be light-years away.

Why Arieel or Trimen had never told him about this feature of the device was understandable – they probably didn’t even know it could be done! Until she met Adam, Arieel Bol had never used her device for offensive purposes and therefore never had the necessity to stretch the boundaries of its range. Now, as long as CW communications joined two points in space, Adam could infiltrate the CW-computer and other linked electronics at the distant station. His discovery would do nothing to extend his range for just normal electronics, only if they were linked by CW and centrally-controlled by a master computer, as were all electronics aboard a starship.

He opened his eyes and found Sherri staring at him with an intense, troubled look. He smiled.

“Damn, babe,” he said. “This is about to get exciting. Come over here and give me a hug.”

The hug lasted a full two minutes, as Adam whispered in her ear explaining what he had been able to accomplish. Then he said they would wait for the Klin to arrive and let him escort them to the landing bay. Once there, they would make their break.

Sherri whispered back, “Can you disable all the ships in the fleet?”

The question sobered him immediately. It had taken considerable effort to link to the other ship and map out some of its basic systems. There was no way he would be able to link to all the ships; that would take days.

He pointed to the deck. “This one for sure,” he grunted, making his voice hard to pick-up on microphone. “Let’s get off here first and then deal with the rest of the fleet later.”

“Seat-of-the-pants-planning … I love it!” Sherri whispered while lightly biting his ear.

Chapter 26

The Klin…

Anorn Elsinum stepped off the ramp of the shuttle encased in a clear, plexi-glass exo-suit that helped him to move more easily in the oppressive gravity of the Kracori flagship. The suit allowed him freedom of movement, yet it did nothing to relieve the pressure he felt on his lungs and the effort it took to breathe.

Two lowly Kracori officers met him in the landing bay, tasked with escorting him to the prisoners and then making sure they got back to the Klin shuttle without incident. They each carried satchels containing restraints to be used on the Humans.

The journey through the bowels of the starship was exceedingly difficult and Anorn wondered why the prisoners were not in the landing bay awaiting his arrival. He tried to believe this had just been an oversight on the part of the Kracori, yet another part of him said the Fleet Commander Runor had probably done this on purpose just to watch the Klin suffer. He was probably watching a monitor at that very moment, as Anorn labored down the long corridors towards the security section, reveling in every second of Anorn’s agony.

Eventually, the small entourage arrived at their destination. The guards within the block of rooms met the other two Kracori and led them to the cells. Anorn was forced to follow.

The two Humans stood staring through the thick security glass with looks of unconcerned curiosity as Anorn finally pressed his way through the barricade of seven Kracori crewmembers blocking his view. He looked to the guards and nodded. The door to the cell slid open and the hulking gray creatures flooded in, grabbing the arms of the Humans and attaching strong, canvass shackles on their wrists and then wrapping the rest of the restraints around their torsos like a straight-jacket.

Anorn stepped up to the smaller Human male. “Adam Cain, I am in awe of the importance of that name. I must admit, at first I was not aware of your legacy; I am not part of the high Council so I did not experience the troubles you caused them a few years prior. But I am aware now, and I assure you I will take every precaution to make sure I deliver you to the Pleabaen for his personal gratification.”

“Yeah, so how is old Summlin these days?” Adam smiled up at the tall, silver alien. “The last I saw of him, there was a building crashing down on top of him.”

Anorn’s expression turned icy cold. “That Pleabaen, who had held his post for a hundred years, eventually died from the injuries he suffered that day. The Pleabaen I refer to now is Wesselian Velsum, his successor.”

“I’m looking forward—”

“Stop the chatter!” the senior Kracori officer commanded. “I am to get you off the ship as soon as possible so we can depart on our mission. You are wasting time.”

The other Kracori forcefully jostled Adam and Sherri out of the cell and began the long march toward the landing bay. Anorn was forced to trudge along as quickly as possible, arriving in the bay a full five minutes after the others.

Chapter 27

Adam Cain…

The delay in the Klin’s arrival allowed Adam time to survey the landing bay – fortunately the same one with the Pegasus – and to map out its electronic controls. He hadn’t counted on this form of restraint, so a little improvising would be in order. He made eye contact with Sherri, reassuring her that he had a plan. He could see the near-panic on her face as the time for the escape was drawing shorter by the minute.

The Klin led them to his shuttle and up the ramp, to be greeted by two sweating and suffering O’mly who had accompanied the Klin on the journey to the flagship. They had endured the increased gravity for over half an hour already and they were nearing the end of their limits. Eight-inch talons or not, these O’mly would not be a concern for Adam and Sherri.

Soon the hatch was closing and the two O’mly did their best to escort the prisoners to the rear compartment. The Klin went forward to the pilothouse.

Adam and Sherri took seats opposite each other along the length of the fuselage, while the O’mly essentially forgot about them the moment they were seated. One sat next to Sherri, the other Adam, and they rested their dangerous looking hands on their knees and hung their heads, struggling to breathe.

The front latch of Adam’s straight-jacket was made of a tough-looking canvas, material made by Kracori for Kracori. Since they originated on a heavy-gravity world, it was a good bet their material would be strong enough to hold a Human.

So instead of trying to break the restraints, Adam began to gather up the free electrons in the atmosphere and create a small static ball. The sparkling light would be visible to the guards, so he tried his best to create the ball in the small void between the latch and the bulk of the jacket pressing against his stomach. Soon the ball was forming, and as Adam continued to concentrate the energy in such a small area that it began to heat up.

When a faint burning smell could be detected, Adam looked to the guards to see if they’d noticed as well. At first the two O’mly were too distracted by their own discomfort, but then Adam noticed the one next to him begin to wrinkle his nose and frown even more than before. Adam pulled with all his might trying to separate the singed bindings before the guard turned to the source of the smell. It was going to be close.

“Hey guys, have you ever had sex with an alien before?” Sherri suddenly blurted out from the other side of the cabin. “It can be quite stimulating.”

Confused and distracted, the two guards turned their attention to Sherri, just long enough for Adam’s bindings to break. He whipped his arms out, striking the guard next to him with a debilitating blow, while Sherri buried her shoulder into the guard next to her, knocking him off balance. Adam was now on his feet; he reached Sherri’s guard in a flash and grabbed him around the neck.

“Look out!” Sherri cried out, just as Adam saw the O’mly jab his talons toward Adam’s midsection. He spun the alien around until he was behind him and then tossed the guard across the room before the talons could make contact. The pitiful alien tried to regain his feet in the heavy gravity, yet only made it to his knees before Adam sent a crushing right hook to the creature’s boney head.

With both the guards down, Adam quickly released Sherri’s bindings and then stepped to the hatchway leading to the forward section of the ship.

“What now?” Sherri asked as she disarmed the two guards of their primitive versions of MK flash weapons.

“Follow me,” he commanded as he yanked open the hatch and sprinted for the pilothouse.

The Klin in the pilot’s seat was surprised by the sudden arrival of the Humans; Adam pulled him from the seat, exo-suit and all, and literally handed him to Sherri. She shoved him down in a corner and placed a foot on his chest. With the creature already struggling to breathe, Sherri’s foot on his chest left him with only one thought on his mind, and it wasn’t escape.

Adam looked through the viewport of the shuttle and saw several Kracori moving throughout the large landing bay. Four of them were standing at the entrance to the Pegasus, which sat about thirty yards directly in front of the Klin shuttle. Adam looked toward the huge slide-away doors to the hangar, now safely secure, and he began to narrow his concentration.

The ATD found the microprocessor to the doors and overrode all safety controls and alarms. The doors began to slide open.

Immediately, a wild torrent of escaping air filled the room and began to flow toward the opening. Several Kracori were sucked through the ever-widening gap, along with nearly every small module, crate and loose piece of equipment in the bay. The four Kracori at the entrance to the Pegasus were gone, too, swept up in the torrent.

After a moment, Adam stopped the doors from opening any further, otherwise even the shuttles and other small craft in the bay would have been sucked out into space with the already dead and frozen Kracori.

Within a minute or so, those Kracori who had managed to hold onto fixed objects began to lose consciousness from the lack of atmosphere. They released their handholds and soon joined their companions in the absolute cold outside the ship.

Once the bay was clear of any living Kracori, Adam shut the doors and began to pump air back into the chamber. He moved toward the exit hatch of the shuttle. “What about him?” Sherri asked, referring to the Klin.

Adam didn’t have a lot of time to linger. “I’d love to take him with us just so he can be interrogated back on Earth, but I don’t think he’d survive the trip.”

“We can always set the gravity a little lighter on the Pegasus.”

He hesitated near the door. “I suppose you’re right. Okay, bring him.”

The trio, with Sherri carrying the Klin over her shoulder, left the small shuttle and ran for the entrance to the Pegasus. Now that an atmosphere filled the bay once more, curious yet cautious Kracori were beginning to reenter, at a loss as to why the outer doors had opened without warning and no alarms sounded. Two of the nearest Kracori saw the running Humans and instinctively drew their MK’s.

Even though he was still learning how to use the ATD to its fullest potential, the disarming of flash weapons was one of the first things he’d learned, and by now he could do it in his sleep. The two Kracori were completely baffled as to why both their weapons failed to discharge, and then just as Adam entered the Pegasus, he noticed one of the Kracori point his weapon in the direction of his companion while still triggering the inert device. The look on the Kracori’s face was priceless when the MK suddenly discharged, sending a lethal bolt of blue-white energy into the chest of the other Kracori.

As Adam commanded the ship’s computer to secure the outer hatch and prepare for launch, he was wondering how the unfortunate alien would explain that at the inquest which was sure to follow.

* * *

Sherri forced the near-comatose Klin into one of the seats in the pilothouse and tied a safety harness around his thin body. The alien was still encased in his clear plastic exo-suit, which even if he did manage to work his way out of Sherri’s restraints, he wouldn’t be able to move very fast.

Adam slipped into the pilot’s seat and was relieved to see all the monitors before him lit-up and functioning. The Kracori technicians hadn’t done anything drastic to the Pegasus in the two hours since their arrival on the flagship. The Pegasus would get them away; what Adam had to do now was make sure they weren’t followed.

Sherri took a seat at the nav station and then looked over at Adam. “Time for some fancy mental shit,” she said. “They’re not going to let us just fly off without at least a few token bolts sent our way.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I can handle the flagship. It’s the other ships in the area that we have to worry about.”

Once the generators were charged and the chemical engines primed, Adam began to systematically disable all the electronics throughout the massive starship. Lights flickered out, without even the backups springing to life. Computers shut down and atmospheric fans quickly whirled to a stop. Weapon systems received no power, and even if they were charged and ready, the sensors and targeting computers were all sitting idle, their monitors blank.

In the darkness of the ship, the Kracori were panicking. Even though they were a proud and accomplished warrior class, the disorientation caused tempers to flair and fear to boil. Eventually self-contained flashlights were found in the dark, and soon wild beams of white light were lighting the interior of the ship like an epileptic laser show.

Adam activated the servos to the large sliding doors of the landing bay once again, yet this time he let them open to their full range. Dozens of more Kracori were sucked into the clear cold of space, along with four small shuttles and countless crates and propellant barrels that had managed to survive the last purging of the vast chamber.

Even the Pegasus was pulled toward the opening, and just as the delta-shaped craft joined the rest of the cascading debris leaving the bay, Adam activated the chemical drive and shot off into space.

With a flick of a switch on his console, Adam initiated a shallow gravity-well, while reserving his mental activities to link back to the ghost ATD he’d created aboard the nearest Kracori ship to the command vessel. He didn’t have time to explore too many of the ship’s command and control computers, so he focused on the weapon systems. There were nineteen separate batteries aboard the Kracori warship, served by four independent computers. He began to sever the controls to these units.

“They’re coming!” Sherri yelled. “Five ships just initiated gravity-wells.”

Adam noticed that the ship he was linked to was one of their pursuers and he wondered if they were even aware that their weapon systems were offline. Even so, there were four other Class-5’s only a step behind.

“Send me a course plot of the Kracori ships,” Adam commanded. The image Sherri sent over showed a wide line of tracks spread out just aft of their position. If the two focusing rings that had been replaced aboard the Pegasus had been larger models, Adam could have easily outrun the Class-5’s. As it was, all the ships were more or less capable of the same maximum speeds. And then he smiled as a plan popped into this head.

The five pursuers were spread out behind him in a perpendicular line to the Pegasus, each having initiated their wells simultaneously rather than in sequence. Each ship was separated from the others by an adequate distance to keep their wells from overlapping, with the ship Adam was linked to the second from the left along the line.

Adam felt along the electronic highway aboard the ship until he found the auxiliary steering control. He assumed control of the system … and sent the ship into a radical ninety-degree turn to starboard.

At the incredible speeds the row of ships were traveling, none had time to react before Adam’s slaved ship angled across the paths of the other three ships to the right. Gravity-wells overlapped, drawing the starships towards a central point in space, and even before they joined, Adam’s ship slammed into the vessel immediately to starboard, resulting in a tremendous explosion mimicking a miniature nova. The other two ships met at the apex of their gravity-wells, and they, too, were consumed in a second massive burst of fire and radiation.

That left only one pursuer … at least for the time being.

Adam wasn’t linked to this ship, and he had no way of initiating contact without his own CW-comm being in working condition. Even the traditional radio was ineffective since both ships were still about a third of a light-year apart.

Could the Pegasus take on a Kracori Class-5 dreadnaught on her own? He didn’t see how it was possible. Even though she did possess a powerful array of weapons, the Pegasus was built mainly for speed; her weapons were no match for the Kracori ship.

If only he could get within range of his ATD without getting blown to dust.

“What now, slick?” Sherri asked with a smile on her lips and worry in her eyes. “Once the rest of the fleet sees that their other ships haven’t destroyed us, they’ll be an all-out race for Earth with only an hour or so separating the winners from the losers. That won’t be enough time for the planet to prepare a defense.”

“You know I love you, Sherri,” Adam said, not looking away from his console, “but you do have a talent for stating the obvious.”

“Yeah, but it sure beats sitting around keeping it all bottled up inside. Besides, I want to make sure we’re both on the same page.”

“And what page is that, my dear, the one that reads: ‘The End’?”

“You know, the frickin Kracori won’t feel the urgency to follow us so closely … if they think we’re dead.”

“And how do you suppose we pull off that magic trick?”

“Hell if I know; you’re the miracle worker in this relationship,” Adam looked over at Sherri to see the smile still stretched across her face. “But you better hurry,” she said. “Once the Kracori decide to launch their whole fleet, they’ll probably just keep on coming.”

Adam began to rack his brain for any idea, for anything the ATD could do to help. How could they convince the pursuing Kracori ship they they’ve been destroyed? And then it dawned on him – they didn’t have to convince this last pursuer that they were destroyed, just the bulk of the fleet, and Adam could do that … if he could get control of the communications system of the ship.

“Stay here … I’ll be right back,” he said as he bolted out of his seat and rushed to the door of the pilothouse.

“Where are you going?”

“To the cargo bay.”

“What for…?” but he was already gone before he could reply.

There were twelve canisters of the propellant catalyst for the chemical drive stored in the hold. The containers were high-tech, with their own self-contained transportation modules at their base and with automatic hookups and pumping controls on the top. By command, they would move to the engine supply station in the generator room and replenish as needed. And each of these automated units was controlled by a micro-processor.

Adam had the ATD tap into the processors, and soon a strange parade of hundred-gallon barrels of highly-explosive chemical was making its way not to the generator room, but to the landing bay next to the cargo hold.

Sherri appeared in the landing bay just as the last barrel made its way in.

“You left the Klin in the control room by himself!” Adam scolded when he spotted Sherri’s blonde hair peaking above the last of the barrels in line.

“Don’t worry,” Sherri yelled back. “I gave him some chin-music to listen to … if I didn’t kill him the process. Now, what are you doing?”

“We need an explosion outside the ship, something to make the Kracori think we’ve overloaded a ring or two.”

“They’ll be able to detect that the Pegasus is still intact.”

“Yeah, but it will give them a reason to believe we’re disabled when I dump out of the well.”

Sherri was silent for a moment as she considered the plan. “They may still shoot first and ask questions later.”

“There’s that remarkable talent of yours on display again.”

“I can’t help it.” Now she was getting mad. “I’ve kind of grown accustomed to living, dickhead!”

“Me, too,” Adam replied, brushing past her once all the barrels were in position. He rushed out of the landing bay, heading for the pilothouse, again with Sherri a step behind.

They both resumed their respective stations; Adam looked at the unconscious Klin slumped in his seat. “Looks like he’s still breathing … but he’s definitely going to need some plastic surgery to get his dashing good-looks back again.”

Sherri was too nervous to reply. Instead she strapped herself in and began to prepare for the series of events she knew were coming.

* * *

Through his ATD, Adam vacated the atmosphere from the landing bay and sent the barrels of catalyst hurling off into space. That wasn’t a very adequate description of what actually happened. In reality, the barrels traveled about two hundred yards from the rear of the Pegasus before being captured by the same gravity-well the ship was falling into. This was much too close for the explosion that was about to come, so Adam had to find a way of increasing the distance without the Kracori noticing.

Timing would be everything.

Adam prepared to ignite the chemical drive of the Pegasus – something that was never done while in a gravity-well. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what would happen. Would the super-heated exhaust simply curl back on itself, following the magnetic lines created by the well and engulf the Pegasus in a deadly inferno? Or would the thrust have no impact at all, since the well controlled all movement within the event horizon?

He didn’t spend any more time debating the answers. Instead, as he triggered the chem-drive he also simultaneously dissolved the well. The blast from the engines struck the barrels just behind the Pegasus, while the momentary thrust after the well evaporated opened up the distance between the ship and the barrels to around a mile. It still wasn’t enough. The force of the massive explosion hurled the Pegasus forward, sending Sherri and Adam slamming in the backs of their seats. Then the ship began to tumble, so incredibly fast that even the internal gravity wells could not fully compensate. The arms and legs of the two Humans went flailing, twisted into almost impossible positions. Adam felt something snap, and pain engulfed his left shoulder. In the meantime, Sherri was screaming. Or was that him?

Alarms were blaring throughout the pilothouse, and Adam stained to read the screen detailing the damage control measures the ship was automatically engaged in.. The landing bay had lost its outer doors, and most of the external airfoils used for chemical landing control within an atmosphere had been blown off. There was a hull breach just to starboard of the landing bay, which was rapidly being filled with prodigious amounts of sealing foam.

Soon the piloting computer regained control of the tumbling spacecraft and Adam’s vision began to stabilize. The pain in his shoulder was more acute, and he looked over at Sherri to see how she had faired. Her nose was bleeding and her hair was a ratted mess atop her head, yet she appeared to have movement in all her limbs. As a rule, women were more flexible than men, so she had managed not to break any bones or pull any muscles. Even still, she looked to be completely disoriented and unaware of her surroundings.

But not Adam; he leaned in closer to his monitor and checked the location of the Kracori warship. It was there, just outside the ship, sitting about a thousand yards off his port quarter. They had been fortunate to this point that the aliens hadn’t destroyed the hapless Pegasus. Maybe they were awaiting further orders before taking action? Whatever the reason, Adam was thankful they were still alive … yet he couldn’t wait around to see how much longer that would hold true.

The Kracori ship was still too far out for the ATD to make contact, so Adam fingered the traditional radio comm. “Kracori ship, we surrender! Please help! We have injuries.”

There was a momentary delay before a voice boomed out of the pilothouse speakers. “There will be no mercy, Humans! You will be destroyed….”

Adam reached out with the ATD and rode the conventional radio waves until they joined with the transmitter aboard the alien ship. The transmitter was a backup to a backup to a backup aboard the alien ship, so it was not linked directly to the rest of the ship’s systems. Panicking, Adam began to feel his way along the various electronic pathways, desperate to find the weapon controls before the Kracori could unleash their deadly barrage of energy bolts against Adam’s defenseless ship.

There was a surge of energy along one particular path; he followed it. There it was – fire control – and a command had just been sent to charge and fire this particular weapons bank. Quickly, Adam diverted the command to another direction … to one of the other batteries aboard the starship; a second later, flash cannon discharged, sending eight huge balls of pure energy hurling off into space – yet on the opposite side the Kracori ship from the Pegasus. And then before the Kracori could trace the cause of the firing error, the ATD located all four servers for the weapon systems and disabled them. Adam began to relax. All the alien ship could do now to the Pegasus was ram her – which was something Adam did not put past the savage Kracori.

He would take his chances with that for the moment, as he gained control of the CW-comm computer aboard the Kracori Class-5 warship. He sent a flash message to the fleet, a blanket broadcast since he wasn’t sure if the flagship had regained control of their systems by then. “Human spacecraft destroyed … no survivors and no transmissions sent prior to destruction. Own CW-array damaged in the engagement; going offline for repairs.” The authentication signature for the message would be for the Kracori ship, and would be considered legitimate, at least until a follow-up link was established. Adam wouldn’t let that happen.

He cut all power within the Kracori dreadnaught.

The Kracori would be helpless aboard their massive ship, fumbling around in the dark and ever-growing cold trying to repair the unrepairable. Unfortunately, Adam had no way of knowing if the message he’d sent would delay the fleet’s departure from the Aslon system.

He unstrapped and went to check on Sherri. She was still groggy, yet her awareness was returning. “Did we survive?” she asked without looking at Adam.

“Nah, they got us. We’re dead … but at least we’ll be together through eternity.”

“So, we’re in Hell?” she said, her groggy voice devoid of humor.

“Anything broken?” Adam asked as he began to squeeze the joints of her arms and legs.

“Do you mind? I don’t think anything’s broken, but I’m still ticklish.” She glanced over at the Klin. “How’d he make out?”

Even without examining the alien Adam knew he was dead. “Not so good, looks like we may need to grab one of the Kracori if we want anyone to interrogate. And speaking of that, I’m going to wait a few more minutes for most of them to pass out from lack of air and then I’m going aboard their ship. I’m sure I can score some replacement focusing rings to get us back to full power.”

“Be careful, some of the Kracori may be in environment suits and still alive.”

Even though Adam was well aware of that possibility, he simply smiled at her. “Thanks, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“That’s what I’m here for, to keep a motherly eye on you.”

“Oh don’t say that! Now some of the things we’ve done together seem … well, disgusting!”

Sherri wrinkled her nose. “Speaking of disgusting, I think the Klin shit himself when he died. Help me get his carcass out of here before he really smells up the place.”

* * *

Half an hour later, Adam was decked out in a full environment suit and wearing a gas-powered thruster on his back. With the outer doors blown off, the landing bay was now open to space, so he had to use the emergency airlock located just below the pilothouse to exit the Pegasus. Once free of the ship, he activated the thrusters and shot off toward the looming bulk of the Kracori starship, now illuminated only by the light from the nearby stars.

Since the Kracori used energy weapons – like ninety-nine percent of the Expansion – he didn’t bother taking any such weapons with him; his ATD could disable any of these carried by survivors. Of course, he did take his Glock 21 .45-caliber semi-automatic handgun. Old habits die hard. Even though he had dumped the remaining atmosphere from the Kracori ship and opened it up to the deadly vacuum of space, there could still be pockets of pressurized atmosphere trapped in sealed compartments, as well as dozens of Kracori dressed in environment suits with their own air supply. He still needed to be cautious.

Adam knew he’d find ample supply of the larger focusing rings he needed aboard the Kracori warship, and once the Pegasus was fitted with them, he could beat the alien fleet to Earth by a couple of days, if not more. It wouldn’t be a lot of time to forewarn the planet, yet it was still better than nothing.

Chapter 28

Located along the shiny metal hull of the massive Kracori starship were numerous access ports used for the loading of stores and to allow ingress and egress for repair crews. Each hatch was joined to a small internal airlock, and it wasn’t difficult for Adam to trace the electrical path to one of these ports and turn the power back on. He slipped inside the ship.

The internal gravity generators were offline, so he floated into the corridor and worked his way aft toward the generator room with the help of various handholds along the way. He was familiar with the layout of Klin-designed Class-5 warships so he made good time. Along the way he encountered dozens of dead Kracori, their hideously disfigured faces having literally exploded when Adam not only shut off the atmosphere to the ship, but also opened it up to the pressure-less vacuum of space. Even though this action had left a horrible mess throughout the ship, it did seem like a more efficient means of incapacitating the crew rather than waiting for them all to suffocate.

The series of compartments which combined to form the generator ‘room’ were secured behind a massive metal barricade designed to protect the rest of the ship in case of an explosion from within. Rather than spend time tracing the various electrical pathways to this particular doorway Adam simply restored power to the entire ship. It would remain without oxygen and gravity, but now the internal lights flashed on and he was able to activate the controls to the huge barricade.

Focusing rings were extremely-vital components of the gravity-drive system, although they had a nasty habit of burning out after about a year of transit time. Large ships such as Class-5’s always carried ample spares, and they would be located in one of the storage compartments within the generator room. It didn’t take Adam long to find what he was looking for.

These high-capacity focusing rings were about four feet in length and eight inches in diameter, with a bulbous end where the energy from the generators would be sent out to begin the dynamo-effect of recycling and compressing the beams from the other rings to form the gravity singularities of the drive. Adam had always been amazed that such small devices helped make faster-than-light travel possible. The technology was far above his paygrade; all he knew was that they worked – as long as they stayed focused and compatible with the energy output of the generators.

He strapped three of the rings together and then tethered the package to his suit. This would give him the two replacement rings he needed, plus a spare.

When he floated out of the storage room and back into the main chamber near the generators, he noticed a shadow move along the deck, coming from the direction of the outer corridor. Sure enough, when he reached out with his ATD he detected the energy signatures of four flash weapons. He paused only slightly before continuing his hand-over-hand journey. The weapons would not be a problem, but the fact that four Kracori were still alive bothered him. They would be dressed in environment suits and possibly even battle armor. The armor would make his Glock useless, so as he moved toward the huge barricade doors and spotted the Kracori, he pursed his lips and nodded his head. Yep, they were wearing armor.

The four startled Kracori turned toward Adam’s floating figure and lifted their weapons. They were confused and visibly upset when their weapons refused to discharge. The line of hulking aliens – dressed in even bulkier body armor – were secured to the metal deck by magnetic boots and formed an effective blockade to Adam leaving the room. There was a moment where he froze in mid-air, staring at the aliens as they stared back at him.

Adam’s ATD traced the comm units within the Kracori suits and opened a link. “I don’t suppose you’ll just let me pass?”

The four Kracori looked at each, confused, yet once they realized the communication was coming from the invader, they stood even taller and tighter, while extracting projection swords from their gear. This was unexpected: who carried swords as their normal compliment of armament anymore?

Adam wore only a thin, composite spacesuit, which would offer little resistance to the razor-sharp blades. The Kracori knew this, too, and they began to slowly spread their ranks and advance towards him. Adam pulled himself up and drifted to the ceiling of the generator room, high above the aliens. For an answer, the Kracori deactivated their mag-boots, and employing small gas jets within their battle armor, began to surround his position.

These were not your typical aliens – they were Kracori, equal in strength and coordination to Humans. And there were four of them, armed with deadly swords, and maneuvering through the vastness of the generator chamber with more dexterity than Adam was capable of. He had his thruster pack, yet that was designed for movement through open space, and did not provide the refined control he would need within a confined space. He moved along the ceiling like a monkey through a jungle canopy, trying to keep from being cornered by the advancing aliens.

“You are the Human responsible for the destruction of our companion vessels, as well our crew.” The voice came over the comm as a vicious, animal growl. “I do not know how you have done the things you’ve done, but now we require nothing more than your death to satisfy our legends.”

“Can’t we talk this over like civilized beings?” Adam moved farther away, while alternately commanding the ATD to begin the priming process for the generators – the nine massive units that filled the floor of the vast chamber.

“If you animals were civilized that would be news to the Kracori,” the leader spoke again. “Your kind will soon be exterminated from the universe, and there will be a celebration of joy throughout.”

They were closer now, skillfully cutting off all his avenues of escape. Adam found a four-inch thick conduit running along the length of the ceiling and wrapped his arm around it. “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,”

The aliens were now close enough for him to peer through their faceplates … and see the look of confusion on their faces from his latest comment. Can’t any of these creatures grasp the concept of slang?

Just then, Adam had the generators engage the ship’s internal gravity-wells – yet set on double the intensity level of both Human and Kracori. The startled look on the alien faces was priceless – at least for the split second before they plunged a hundred feet to the metal deck below, accelerating at twice normal rate of fall in the heavier gravity.

Adam didn’t have the luxury of watching them impact the floor. Instead he screamed through the pain of his injured shoulder as his body weight suddenly jumped from zero to nearly four hundred pounds, plus with the weight of the three focusing rings adding to his agony. It felt as if his arm was being ripped off as the conduit pipe bit into his flesh.

Through the excruciating pain, Adam commanded the ATD to reduce the level of the internals, in fact now down to about a tenth of Earth-normal. He unhooked his arm from the metal pipe and floated gently toward the deck.

When he landed he discovered that two of the Kracori were still alive, moving in jerky motions inside their thick suits, bodies shattered by the tremendous impact and unable to lift the heavy armor encasing them, even in the near-none-existent gravity. Adam approached the nearest one and opened a link to the alien’s comm.

“One day there will be a reckoning … and only one of our races will survive.” He leaned down until he could look through the blood-splattered viewplate of the Kracori’s helmet. “And look what just one puny Human has done to five of your most-powerful warships.” He smiled at the vacant eyes of the alien. “How’s your Legend hanging now, asshole?”

Adam left the generator room a moment later, leaving the Kracori to spend the final few minutes of his life in excruciating agony.

* * *

Before leaving the Kracori warship, Adam severed the rail-slides for the flash cannon and set the batteries to begin a slow build-up. He made his way back to the Pegasus with the replacement focusing rings, knowing that in another fifteen minutes or so a critical mass would be reached and all nineteen cannon would explode in a fiery ball of pure white energy. The mighty Class-5 warship would be left a twisted hulk of death. Adam hoped the advancing Kracori fleet would happen upon the carcass; it would serve as a stark warning to the rest of the aliens not to mess with the Humans. At least not this Human….

* * *

Adam moved the Pegasus a safe distance from the Kracori ship before it exploded and installed the replacement focusing rings in short order. Ten minutes later, they were safely wrapped in an unimaginably-deep gravity-well and bolting for home. They would arrive in seven days; the aliens would throw caution to the wind and engage system-disrupting deep-wells of their own. They would arrive two days later.

Chapter 29

Riyad Tarazi …

The Dysion Shield lay directly ahead of them, with Ruszel at the controls. It was an impressive and mind-bogglingly huge cloud of gas and pre-stellar material forming a vast bubble over thirty light-years in diameter. In a far-distant past a gigantic star had exploded near here, sending out a thick cloud of debris and forming the Shield. Within the interior of the bubble, some stars had survived the massive explosion, while others were created from it. The space inside the bubble was the Dysion Void, virtually empty space except for these few rogue stars – one of which Riyad hoped was the star for the planet Elision.

“Even with the capabilities of your ship, the transit through the Shield will be slow,” Ruszel informed him. “Your additional array of focusing rings could cause a spontaneous overloading of the wells, so we must be prepared to dissolve at a moment’s notice. Canos will be constantly monitoring well-integrity and will have emergency authorization should he detect an overload.”

“I’m fine with that,” Riyad said as he strapped into a seat directly behind Ruszel’s pilot’s station. Even though he felt somewhat impotent where he sat, he felt confident in the abilities of his two alien companions. Yet once through the Shield, Riyad would be back on the stick.

“I will be cutting the internals now since I will be making some rather fast and radical course changes. This will help reduce our inertia reactions.”

Suddenly, the all-to-familiar feeling of vertigo swept over Riyad. He had experienced weightlessness countless times before, yet it was always these first initial seconds that one could never get used to. Ruszel was smart to place them in weightlessness, otherwise the constant jerking and roller-coaster-like ups and downs would surely have made him sick.

The circular star field before them suddenly began to swing back and forth and up and down in a wild display of streaking colors. Riyad tried to turn his eyes away as he felt an uncomfortable queasiness developing in his stomach, yet try as he might, his attention always returned to viewport.

Seconds turned into minutes, and before he knew it, the clock on the bulkhead showed an hour had passed – and still they weren’t through. The ever-present knot in his stomach was now at the tipping point, which was his fault for looking at the forward viewport as long as he had. Another few seconds of this and Ruszel would be wearing Riyad’s breakfast on the back of his head….

Suddenly the buffeting ended and the space before them cleared up to reveal a clean circle of near pure white light. Gravity returned to the ship and Ruszel turned, displaying a wide alien grin.

“Great job, Ruszel!” Riyad said with genuine admiration, even as he still fought to keep the knot in his stomach contained. “Only you could have made that passage.”

“My … your ship made it easier than expected.”

“That was easy?”

“We have contacts!” Canos yelled. “Several of them!”

“It’s the Kracori!” Riyad yelled. He shoved Ruszel out of the pilot’s seat and slid in, activating the ship’s defensive screens as he did so.

“No, these are odd contacts,” Canos said. “Massive ships, larger than anything I have ever seen. And it is their mass I am detecting, not their drives.”

Riyad raised the outer shield to cover the main viewport and called up Canos’s navigation screen on the forward display. The young Tel’oran was right – these were massive structures all their own, clearly twenty times larger or more than even the largest Class-5 starship. And there were nine of them in the vicinity of the Ifrit.

Riyad cranked the control stick hard to port and sent maximum power to the focusing rings … yet nothing happened. Instead, well-integrity dropped to zero and the Ifrit entered normal space.

“We are in a dampening field,” Canos reported. “Singularities cannot be created.”

Riyad knew what dampening fields were, and he knew they covered only a small area and required tremendous amounts of energy to maintain. He watched his gauges for the moment their momentum would carry them beyond the field and he could engage the gravity drive again. As he waited, he activated the CW-comm array. The Earth had to be warned.

He worked frantically to focus the array, but every time it looked like he had it, the signal would degrade. “Ruszel, I can’t get the CW to focus. What’s happening?”

The Tel’oran was seated at the comm station and had noticed the problems Riyad was having. “I can’t get a signal, either. It must be the Shield. It contains swirling radiation pockets which are impeding wormhole creation. We may not be able to communicate with the outside until we leave the Void.”

This was not good, Riyad thought. He hadn’t planned on being mute while in the vicinity of Elision. And with these massive contacts he was encountering a potential game-changer in the Human-Kracori arena. The nine huge ships were larger than anything Riyad knew to have ever existed before in the galaxy. If the Kracori could build such ships, then what other surprises would they have in store for the invading Human fleet?

And so he waited, watching for the moment when he could attempt his escape.

However, the moment never arrived, at least not before the Ifrit was surrounded by ten shiny silver disks carrying Class-4 signatures and operating on chemical drives. This was too much firepower for him to counter.

Riyad turned to Ruszel. “Get ready on comm; it’ll be up to you to convince them that we’re a Guild ship on a trade mission.”

“Me? I can’t do that.”

“Then they’re going to blast us to atoms; is that what you want? Do it now. We have nothing to lose.”

“Just our lives,” Canos added from across the room.

Reluctantly, Ruszel turned to the screen. He inhaled a deep breath and then keyed the switch.

“This is Senior Pilot Ruszel Crin of the Silvean Trade Guild. I was not aware there were any stations in this vicinity. We are on a trade mission to the Dysion region. Is there anything you require?”

After a moment, the screen before Ruszel’s station flashed to life. Riyad had hidden behind an equipment bank near the pilot’s station, yet he could still see the screen at an angle. He froze when the image came to life.

It was a silver-skinned Klin!

The slender creature on the screen considered Ruszel for a moment before scanning the pilothouse behind him. “Who is that behind you?”

Ruszel panicked and spun around, expecting to find Riyad standing within view. Instead he saw only a nervous Canos at the nav station. “That is my assistant, Canos. We are Tel’orans.”

“Are there any other beings aboard?”

“No … why do you ask? We are on scouting mission seeking out new markets. Others have come before us, yet we are just the latest. May I inquire as to your identity?”

The Klin did not answer immediately. Instead he locked his eyes on Ruszel as if trying to read his thoughts. Finally the Klin chose to speak. “No, you may not inquire. Who we are is of no concern. You will not find any new markets within the Void, certainly not enough to justify the danger of penetrating the Shield. You are to return to Guild space immediately.”

Ruszel nodded quickly and reached for the off switch; then he noticed Riyad out the corner of his eye shaking his head emphatically. “Pardon me, but we represent the Guild and we have every right to be here.”

The Klin had begun to turn from his monitor, assuming the Tel’oran would comply without question. Now he locked his gaze on Ruszel once again. “The Guild has no authority here.” The silver alien was handed a datapad. After scanning it briefly he looked back at the pilot. “Your vessel has an odd signature. It is very unique … and well in advance of what the Guild is capable of constructing. Where did you acquire such a vessel?”

Riyad saw Ruszel grow pale as his mind struggled to find an explanation. He began to stammer. “I traded for it … during a prior trade circuit … from a being who originated outside of the Nebula. I do not know the origin of the vessel.”

“I find your story highly implausible. A vessel such as yours would be worth a major fortune within the Nebula. It must have been an incredible trade you negotiated.”

“It was a fortuitous event, yet the seller was desperate for ruiens at the time. My family is of high status and helped with the fee.”

Riyad smiled; Ruszel definitely had a talent for improvisation. He was impressed.

“What is your trade route?”

“We do not have a set route. There are no accurate surveys of the Void to go by.”

“So you intend to wander aimlessly about looking for populated planets, with no knowledge of their technology level, language, customs or experience with off-worlders? That seems like a rather disorganized plan for a Guild pilot.”

“We do not wish to have any trouble with you,” Ruszel said, his voice on the edge of pleading. “I am not familiar with your race and I realize that the technological level of your colony is far superior to anything I have ever seen. We simply seek a trade advantage within a territory which has not been fully explored. May we pass?”

“Our colony – as you call it – is not indigenous to this region. We will be moving on soon. You may pass, yet not before you delete any reference to this encounter and not mention it in any reports. If I believe you will not comply, then we will board your ship and do it ourselves.”

“We will comply, you can be assured! We fear you and will do nothing to risk antagonizing you any further.”

“That is a very sensible approach, Ruszel Crin of the planet Tel’or. You should know we have an extensive information network operating within the Nebula. We can find you – and your bloodline – should we learn that you have deceived us.”

Riyad held his breath as he saw Ruszel hesitate before responding. He could literally watch the features on the alien’s face change as he worked through his internal decision. “I assure you we are simply on a trade mission.” Riyad began to breathe again.

“The dampening field will be removed. Proceed … and do not speak of this encounter – to anyone outside the Shield or within.”

“We will comply. Farewell, with our appreciation.” Ruszel quickly reached forward and cut the transmission. He collapsed in the chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his face with his hands.

“You did excellent, my friend,” Riyad said, patting the alien on the shoulder.

“Who are they?” Canos asked. “They exude power and intelligence.”

“They should, my young friend. That was a Klin.”

Canos’s mouth fell open, while Ruszel just shrugged off the startling revelation without reaction. So many other startling revelations had come his way over the past week; this was just one more.

Riyad was standing behind him when the alien twisted around in the chair and looked up at the Human. “I suppose it is too late to resign our affiliation with you, Riyad Tarazi? I do not know how much more of this I can take.”

Riyad smiled. “It’s all downhill from here, Senior Pilot. I should be wrapping up my mission within a day or so, after which the credits and ship will be yours – after you drop me off at a safe location, of course.”

“That moment cannot come soon enough. And if it is indeed a safe location where we leave you, Canos and I may elect to remain there ourselves – at least until what is to happen has passed.”

“That sounds like a plan. And if we can find a tavern along the way where the three of us can ride all this out, then the first round of drinks will be on me.”

Ruszel frowned. “You elect to bathe in intoxicants rather than consume them? I see now why Humans have the reputation you have. You are indeed a strange and confusing race.”

“No argument there, my friend.”

Chapter 30

When the dampening field dissolved, Riyad engaged the array and shot off in a deep-well – although he kept the energy level at a modest rate. He didn’t want to alert the Klin to the full capabilities of the Ifrit. The technologically-curious aliens may want to analyze the engines before releasing them, and that would be unfortunate. Once he was about a light-year from the Klin colony, he applied full power to the engines and sped off into the eerie emptiness of the Void.

The McCarthy Coordinates lay thirty-degrees to starboard and at a range of about nineteen light-years. Making a beeline for the suspected location of the Kracori homeworld probably wouldn’t be the smartest action to take, Riyad thought. So he would continue his current track, while trying to detect any fringe elements of the gray aliens, anything that could seal the deal concerning the accuracy of the coordinates.

But now Riyad had to consider the Klin as well. Finding them had come as a complete surprise. Riyad had intercepted the data concerning the Klin colony of gigantic space stations before Ruszel could delete it – yes, the alien fully intended on complying with the Klin’s directives. The data wasn’t very extensive, yet it did help Riyad build a scenario.

For centuries, the Juireans – and others within the Expansion – had speculated as to how the Klin had remained hidden from the galaxy for four thousand years. Only recently had the previous-believed-to-be-extinct aliens chosen to reveal themselves, yet the small, land-based colonies that had been discovered weren’t large enough to support an entire race of beings. The nine huge disks could theoretically house a population of ten to twenty-thousand each. Riyad found that mind-boggling. Ninety- to one hundred eighty thousand Klin; the thought was frightening.

During the seven years that the Humans had ruled the Expansion, they, too, had conducted their own extensive search for the elusive silver creatures, but to no avail. At the time, experts estimated that the entire population of the exiled aliens couldn’t be much more than a quarter-million, taking into consideration all the data that was available. If that estimate was accurate, then Riyad had just stumbled upon over half the population of the Klin race.

The case for the authenticity of the McCarthy Coordinates was almost sealed. Finding the Klin added another piece of critical evidence. And if the Humans came prepared, they could effectively kill two extremely dangerous birds with one massive stone.

But then something came to mind that the Klin had said: Do not speak of this encounter to anyone outside the Shield … or within!

Could it be possible that the Kracori were not aware of the Klin colony? In a way this made sense; the last he’d heard the Klin and Kracori were still enemies. So why were the Klin here?

Riyad shook his head. This was far above his pay grade – if he had a pay grade. He would give the search one more day before heading back to the Shield. He was already ninety-nine percent sure the coordinates were correct, and if the CW-array was working, Earth would already be informed. The presence of the Klin was just another riddle for the military geniuses back on his homeworld to solve.

On the main display screen in the pilothouse, Canos had placed a red dot representing the location of the McCarthy Coordinates. Riyad moved the dot to the center of the screen, and now the Ifrit was skirting along the left side of the dot, while he gradually adjusted the course to move them ever-closer to the center. To fulfill his mission, it wasn’t necessary for Riyad to view the planet directly, just the obvious traffic that should be surrounding the Kracori star system. And with sensors at max, it could be only a matter of minutes now before contact was made – if the coordinates were accurate.

“I have faint gravity-signatures to our right,” Canos said, almost in a whisper. Riyad smiled. He and the two aliens shared the same feeling – as if they were sneaking up on a star system – so the whisper seemed appropriate, if unnecessary.

“Can you give me the course heading?” Riyad asked in a whisper of his own.

Canos went to answer, but then stopped abruptly and smiled. Soon the pilothouse was filled with Human and Tel’or laughter, and in the process, a hell of a lot of pent-up tension was released. Much of the laughter came not from humor, but from nerves. They were fast approaching the moment of truth, and if Riyad was correct, then it would like discovering the entrance to Hell … and with very few options for retreat.

* * *

As Riyad continued his slow spiral in toward the Kracori system, they began to detect more and more space traffic, even as far out as five light-years from the outer border.

This raised a potential issue for Riyad. With the sensors scanning to their maximum range, and with the sparse information the Guild had concerning the Void displayed on the screen before him, Riyad began to get the distinct feeling of having his ass hanging out for all to see. Nowhere on the screen were there other worlds detected, at least not on the circuitous route he was following. His strategy of taking an oblique path past Elision was now making the Ifrit stand out like a sore thumb.

Just then an extremely-intense gravity signature was detected off their port quarter and at the maximum range of the scanners. Riyad suspected it wasn’t one massive object, but rather a sizable grouping of transiting starships. And if he could detect them, then it was a sure bet they could detect him.

It was too late to turn away; that would only make any observer suspicious as to why he would be avoiding a squadron of Kracori spaceships. A challenge would soon arise. Riyad just hoped Ruszel was up to the task – again.

The distance between the Ifrit and the squadron of Kracori continued to shrink with no apparent change of course from either party. Things really got tense in the pilothouse when another group of contacts appeared behind them and following roughly the same course. The orientation of the two sets of boogies had the effect of squeezing the Ifrit in closer to the Elision system, closer than Riyad had wished to go. But he no choice; it was too late to cut and run, even in the Ifrit. Often angles of attack could overcome superior speed, and the Kracori now seemed to be everywhere.

“Ruszel,” Riyad said, causing the pale-green alien to nearly faint when the first word in over a half-an-hour was spoken in the pilothouse. Once the Tel’oran regained his composure, Riyad continued. “I think it would be best if we make the first contact. After all, we’re just innocent merchants, and they already know we’re here.”

“If you believe so; what should I say?”

“Play dumb. Say you are seeking new trading partners and that their system is not on the old Guild charts you have. Ask who they are and request a dialog to discuss future trade options.”

“What if they say yes, and invite us to Elision?”

“Trust me, they won’t. Instead they’ll warn us away, and then we’ll be free to bolt out of here without raising suspicion.”

‘We shall see.” The green alien turned to his console and sent out a general CW-link to any ships willing to join. Riyad once again assumed his position behind the pilot’s station, out of sight of the comm’s video camera.

Immediately a light flashed on the console indicating that a link was coming through, yet it was audio-only, not visual. That makes sense, Riyad thought. If these are Kracori, they certainly don’t want their faces plastered all over the ship’s monitors and recording devices.

Ruszel completed the link.

“Identify yourself.” The words blasted from the speakers.

“I am Senior Pilot Ruszel Crin of the Silvean Trade Guild. And with whom am I speaking?”

“Senior Pilot you are not to be in this region. You should be aware of this.”

“I know of no such restriction, Speaker. Although our charts are antiquated and incomplete, nowhere is the Dysion Void classified as restricted space. I’m sure I would have been aware if this were widely known.”

“What is your business here?”

“Trade, Speaker. We come seeking to expand our trading routes to areas not previously utilized. I am surprised – and pleased – to find such a large, untapped market flourishing within the Void. May I be placed in contact with your planetary trade representatives?”

“You are to return the way you came. We seek no new trading partners. Obey or we will take action to protect our security.”

“As you wish, Speaker; we are leaving now.” Ruszel abruptly cut the link and turned to Riyad with a wide grin. “We can leave now!”

Riyad didn’t share Ruszel’s enthusiasm, and even though the Tel’oran had done well once again, he wished he hadn’t ended the conversation so abruptly. A true trader would not have taken no for an answer, at least not initially. But Riyad was now extremely confident of the intelligence he’d gathered, and although he hadn’t journeyed to Elision itself, he now had a working knowledge of the Void, the Dysion Shield and the approach to the region itself. The Human fleet would have its work cut out for it, especially navigating the tumult of the Shield. But once inside, they should have plenty of operating room. Still it would have been nice to survey the Kracori planetary defenses first-hand….

Reluctantly, Riyad cranked the control stick over to his left and made a one-hundred-eighty degree loop. He would leave Kracori space, yet head for a different section of the Shield to make his exit from the Void. He wasn’t looking forward to encountering the Klin colony for a second time. He engaged a deep gravity-well and was comforted by the clear circle of white that appeared in the viewport. A quick nine-hour sprint and they’ll be through the Shield and in the safety of Guild space once again.

Chapter 31

“Eh, Riyad, something is happening outside.” Canos had his nose placed about three inches from his nav screen.

“What do you have?” asked Riyad, as he hurried from his station to stand behind Canos. It had been five hours since they’d left Kracori space, and prior to this they had been bolting through empty space without a soul around.

“Contacts … literally hundreds of them.”

“Where?” Ruszel shouted from his station.

“All around us … and closing!”

“Shit! What did we do wrong?” Riyad jumped back to his station. “Strap-in, we may have to make a run for it.”

Cano mirrored his screen to Riyad’s. Indeed, the entire space around them was now littered with intense gravity signatures, essentially forming a thin, white bubble around their location. Something tipped them off, and now the Kracori seemed bent on stopping them from reaching the Shield.

“There’s some sort of interference directly ahead, like we experienced with the others – the Klin,” Ruszel shouted from the comm station. “We are within it now.”

The gravity-well suddenly dissolved, sending them back into normal space and the limitations of Relativity. The Kracori had apparently changed their minds about letting them go, and with his CW-array blocked by the Shield, he had no way of relaying his findings to an anxious Earth before whatever was about to happen happened.

Riyad made a decision; he reached under the console of his station and withdrew a Smith & Wesson .45-caliber semi-automatic he kept hidden there. Canos saw him do it.

“I thought you said you carried no weapons onboard, especially not Human-style projectile weapons!”

“I keep this one around just for insurance.”

Both aliens stared at him with unblinking eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m going to do my best to save your lives.”

“You cannot fight off the Kracori with a single weapon,” Canos said, his youthful innocence showing through.

Riyad stood up; the aliens followed suit. “They’re going to board us,” he stated matter-of-factly. “And when they do, they’ll find the two of you tied up in one of the staterooms.” He stepped up to the taller Tel’oran pilot. “Listen up; you’re going to have to follow this precisely. Tell them you were hired by me to help establish these new trade lines. You were paid an enormous amount of credits to do this. Show them the credits if you have to. You were not aware I was a Human until just now, at which time I tied you up and then tried to escape in the mini-pod I have in the landing bay.”

“They will not allow you to escape.”

“I know, but they may let the two of you go.” He placed a hand on the shoulder of the Tel’oran pilot. “You have done a remarkable job, Ruszel … you both have. Now I must ask you to do me a favor. Does your race understand the concept of a favor?”

“Yes, I understand. You need us to do a task for you without the possibility of reward.”

“Exactly, although I believe that with all I’ve given you so far – plus my ship – it would hardly be uncompensated. Are you familiar with the planet Formil, they’re the largest supplier of electronics to the galaxy?”

“Yes, Formilian technology is highly sought after in the Nebula. Why do you ask?”

“If you are able to return to Guild space, I need you to contact the Formilian Speaker, a female named Arieel Bol. It will not be easy for you get through to her, so you must mention the name of Adam Cain when you link to the Formilians.”

“Adam Cain? Is that another Human?”

“That’s right, and the Speaker will know who he is.”

“What do you wish us to say to this being?”

“Tell her of my mission and that the coordinates for Elision are correct. Ask her to contact Adam Cain with this information.”

“Why wouldn’t we contact the Humans directly?”

“I have to assume the Klin and Kracori have monitoring stations on both sides of the Shield. If they detect a link with Earth, then they will know that the location of Elision has been discovered. This will cause them to increase their defenses around the planet and bring about many more deaths of my people when we attack. However, a link to Formil will appear innocent enough; simply a trader arranging for a shipment for electronics.”

“That is all you request?”

“That is all, my friends. Do this and then you can enjoy the credits and your new ship without guilt.”

“I feel no guilt associated with the negotiation we shared, Riyad.”

“Still, I hope you both have a long and prosperous life enjoying the fruits of your encounter with me. I didn’t expect to meet the likes of you when I first entered the nebula. It has been an honor working with you both.”

Riyad could see that the two aliens were genuinely touched by his sentiment; Riyad was himself surprised at his words. He had never really bonded with aliens before, not even Kaylor and Jym from the old days. Maybe he was just getting sentimental in his old age.

“Let’s roll,” he said motioning with the S&W toward the exit of the pilothouse. “We have to make this look convincing.”

* * *

Once the two aliens were secure in one of the two staterooms aboard the Ifrit – and still thoroughly confused over the term ‘let’s roll’ – Riyad went to the landing bay and began to prep the small escape pod. The tiny craft had air and supplies enough for ten days, as well as a miniature gravity-drive barely capably of sustaining an event horizon. The craft also had a small chemical drive which would be unaffected by the dampening field that now surrounded the ship, but it wouldn’t get him far enough away to escape the Kracori.

He really held no hope of escape. The Kracori were all around them, and they would detect any pod leaving the Ifrit. So, he hesitated entering the pod. Should he stay aboard and help convince the Kracori of the alien’s innocence? Or should he climb in the pod and put some distance between him the Ifrit? In the latter case he would more-than-likely to be blasted to atoms … and without ever knowing if Ruszel and Canos had been allowed to leave.

He felt a heart-wrenching disappointment. He had come so far and had found the homeworld of the Kracori. But unless the aliens survived, no one would ever know. And then what would become of the Human attack on Elision? Would another agent be sent, or would the fleet simply plow head-first towards the coordinates, unaware of the Shield, the Void or even of the Klin colony he had encountered?

Taking a more metaphysical perspective, Riyad figured he would leave those questions to the living, as he was about to finally learn the truth concerning the afterlife and all that entailed. A strange calm now filled him. This was it. He had reached forty-six years of life, much more than anyone would have anticipated, and he’d seen and done things no one could have ever imagined. If it weren’t for the uncertainty hanging over this last mission, Riyad felt he would be welcoming this moment. The doubt was the only disappointment he now held concerning his life. He would have to see it through. After that, death would surely come. Of that he had no doubt.

He entered the pod, yet didn’t launch. Instead, the Kracori would find him there – having stopped him at the last minute before launch. As he sat in the warm interior of the pod, listening to the sounds of the aliens gaining entry to his ship, he knew some Kracori soldier would receive a meritorious citation for preventing Riyad from escaping that day.

He would let the bastards have their little victory. His would come in another life.

* * *

As expected, the seven-foot-tall Kracori warriors flooded into the Ifrit with full body armor and weapons at the ready. They spread quickly throughout the small spaceship, discovering Ruszel and Canos in the stateroom just as a wide-eyed Kracori soldier spotted Riyad sitting calmly in the escape pod.

He pulled the hatch open and placed the barrel of his flash rifle in Riyad’s face. The Human calmly raised his arms in the universal sign of surrender, while five other Kracori pulled him from the pod and threw him to the deck. The young Kracori soldier then placed a powerful kick to Riyad’s ribs.

“You are a Human, scum of the universe, who dare to place a price upon the Legend of the Kracori.” He pressed the barrel of the rifle to the side of Riyad’s head. A decision crossed the face of the Kracori, and the fingers of the alien began to tighten on the trigger of the weapon—

“Stop!”

The fiery-eyed Kracori hesitated, as another warrior broke through the crowd surrounding Riyad. He wore a purple sash across his chest. He glared at the younger Kracori. “Secure the prisoner. We do not kill sources of information, at least not until they have revealed all of their secrets. Bring him to the central room.”

In a blur, Riyad was dragged through the Ifrit and to the common room. The area was full of Kracori, several with colorful sashes on their uniforms. Ruszel and Canos were seated on a sofa, still in their bindings.

The angry young Kracori handed Riyad’s Smith & Wesson to another tall Kracori, this one with a white sash.

“There! That is the weapon he threatened us with,” Ruszel shouted. “It is a Human weapon, is that correct?” Even through the pain of his beating, Riyad still admired the tenacity – and frankly – the natural ability of the Tel’oran to lie on command. Maybe being a merchant-pilot taught one to embellish the truth when attempting to make a sale? If so, then that talent was universal among traders of all species.

Riyad was lifted up and placed in one of the chairs in the room, after which the officer with the white sash approached him. “You are a Human spy, sent here to learn of our location; that is undeniable. And you have apparently enlisted the assistance of these two Guild members, our brothers within the Nebula.”

“They served their purpose, even though they are spineless creatures who were about to give me up once they learned of my true identity. Indeed they are your brothers.” Riyad looked at the two aliens with open contempt.

“They did not know of your mission prior to entering the Void?”

“Not even then. It wasn’t until you began to close on the ship that they began to suspect. And why did you change your mind and stop me?”

“It was your energy-signature, Human. No race within the Nebula has a ship such as this, yet there have been rumors of these large-array drives being employed by a small band of Humans working for the Expansion. It was better to be cautious than to let you leave.”

Riyad looked around the room at the sea of Kracori all staring at him with open contempt. “Now what; I suppose my execution will be the spectacle of the year on Elision?”

“You will not be executed, at least not yet. We shall enjoy extracting all you know concerning the Human plans for invading the Nebula. And then depending on your importance, we may even save you until the invasion, so we may transmit your evisceration to your approaching fleet, destroying your legend and sending a warning to all who approach. In the interim, we Kracori have never had a Human to play with.” The officer turned to his troops. “This shall be a sport! We shall make an example of this Human spy.”

The other Kracori in the room cheered and slapped their chests, and then the senior officer leaned in closer to Riyad. “You will beg for death, yet you will not be granted your wish. If I could keep you alive until the stars burn out, just so you can experience an eternity of pain, I would do so. Our science will do what it can. Your death will not come, not for a long, long while.”

The Kracori officer stood tall. “Take him,” he commanded.

“And these two?” another Kracori with a purple sash asked of his commander.

The tall Kracori approached the two trembling aliens. “In a very short while, all will know of the Kracori within the Nebula. Our secret will no longer have value. You must be returned to Guild space, where you are to warn others of the impending plague coming this way. The Humans will destroy everything you know – your planets, your societies, your bloodlines. Take this ship and return to the Guild. Then be prepared to assist the Kracori to save your Nebula. We are indeed brothers, forged from the fires of the exploding stars of the Silvean Nebula. This,” he pointed a long finger at Riyad “… this is your enemy, just as he is the Kracori’s. Don’t you forget where your allegiance belongs. Now go.”

As the bindings were removed from the two aliens, Riyad breathed a sigh of relief; however, as he looked into Ruszel’s eyes, he saw something he’d not seen there before. Was it hatred? Had the Kracori’s impassioned condemnation of the Humans swayed the Tel’oran? Would he do Riyad the favor he had asked … or not?

As the Kracori proceeded to drag him from the room, and soon through the umbilical joining the Ifrit with a larger Kracori warship, Riyad had no idea if he would die in vain, or whether his last desperate request would be granted.

The Tel’orans would be released, that much he was certain; what they would do after that he had no idea. Riyad felt sick to his stomach. He had once had at his disposal the means of forcing the Kracori to end his life quickly in the vacuum of space. Now all he had to look forward to was months of unimaginable pain and suffering. And he would not even have the comfort of knowing that his last wish had been carried out to bring him solace.

In the end, Riyad Tarazi will have lived a life unfulfilled, and for that he would suffer indignation and disgrace throughout all eternity.

Chapter 32

Adam Cain…

It was frustrating for both the Humans aboard the Pegasus that they were not able to warn the Earth or even announce their impending arrival. Yet all they had for comm was traditional radio, which even if they were to send a message to Earth by this method, would not arrive for over a thousand years. Their only means of communicating outside the ship would only become practical once they reach the Solar System, and then only if they can relay the warning to another nearby ship with CW capabilities. Fortunately, there would be plenty of traffic surrounding the system that he could communicate with in real-time. All they had to do was get there ahead of the Kracori.

* * *

When they finally arrived at the Solar System, Adam cut the gravity-drive and simultaneously activated the radio microphone. “Earth forces, this is Adam Cain and Sherri Valentine arriving in-system, please acknowledge.”

Two small sentry ships had been altered to their gravity-wave by monitors outside the system and were waiting along their line of approach. From the signatures of the ships, they were nothing more than tiny five-man monitoring vessels, and not the KFV-A’s that would normally be stationed at the system’s perimeter. After a longer-than-normal delay, the speakers in the pilothouse of the Pegasus came to life.

“Eh, you’re on a radio; is that what you meant to do?” The voice on the speaker sounded like that of a teenager, unsure and untrained.

“We realize that. Who am I speaking with?”

There was another pregnant pause before the speaker responded. “This is Cadet Adam DePere … did you say Adam Cain?”

“That’s correct, and I have a very important message for Fleet Command. Can you patch me through using your CW-array?”

“Adam Cain! This is amazing. I was named after you, or at least that’s what they tell me. I don’t really think it’s true, since I’m seventeen and I think the Juireans attacked fourteen, fifteen years ago. I’ve looked it up before, so I think it’s all bullshit.”

Adam’s jaw dropped open. He looked over at Sherri and saw her smiling. “You’re getting to be an old fart, aren’t you?” she said.

Adam shook his head and returned to the microphone. “That’s … eh, I don’t, but I really need that patch. Can you do it … Adam?”

“Yes, sir!” came the enthusiastic reply. “Just give me a minute to look up the instructions. It shouldn’t be too hard; it’s just that you’re on a different system than the CW. I have to say, it’s a real honor to speak with you, sir, even if I wasn’t named after you.”

“Please concentrate, son—” Adam cringed when he spoke the word ‘son.’ He had never referred to anyone like that before. He heard Sherri burst out laughing.

He covered the microphone and sent her a stern look. “This is serious! Do you mind?”

Sherri held up her hands in a sign of contrition. “Sorry, sir, I’ll try to be more respectful … of my elders.”

With the microphone held in his left hand, Adam lifted his right to the side of his face and extended the middle finger in Sherri’s direction. He scratched a non-existent itch.

“Okay, sir, I think I have it worked out.”

“Good, just let me know when I can talk.”

“Oh, go ahead … you’re connected now.”

Adam pasted a sour look on his face and sighed deeply. “This is Adam Cain, who am I speaking with?”

“This is Tech Sergeant Javier Luna … is this really Adam Cain? Can I get verification?”

“What do you want, Sergeant, my social security number? You don’t go by those anymore. I need you to pass along a very specific message to your commander. This is the message: There’s a Kracori fleet of warships heading for Earth that I suspect will be here in two days. All necessary defensive measures are to be taken. They are carrying nukes. Did you get that, Sergeant?”

There was a pause before Luna came back on the line. “Okay, who is this really?” There was laughter in the man’s voice. “Is that you, Morgan? You dickhead; you had me going for a while.”

“Listen up, Sergeant! This is Captain Adam Cain, and not your friend Morgan. This is critical information. Are you following me?”

“Bullshit. This can’t be Captain Cain. He’s somewhere on the other side of the galaxy, has been for years now.”

“You’re beginning to piss me off, Sergeant. You better—”

Sherri pulled the microphone from Adam’s hand. “This is Sherri Valentine, Mr. Luna. Does that name ring a bell?”

“Eh, yes ma’am.”

“Then you know Adam Cain and I often travel together. Does that help you get a grip on reality of the situation?”

“Well, yes it does.” His voice came back more defiant this time. “But I can’t just accept an unsolicited communication without verification.”

“Then get your supervisor. Maybe he – or she – will have the balls to make a fucking decision.”

“I can patch you to Commander Garcia, but that’s probably about as high as we can go at this time, I mean with most of the top brass already gone.”

Adam took the microphone again. “Gone? Gone where?” The lack of adequate security at the system’s edge had made him suspicious.

“To fight the Jusepi … sir.”

“You mean everyone is gone? Wasn’t a reserve force left in place?”

“They took everything, sir.”

The Kracori commander had told him the fleet had been sent to the Jusepi system; he just couldn’t imagine that meant everything, even the security units for the system.

“Can you locate Admiral Andrew Tobias; are you familiar with the name?”

“Of course, sir, but isn’t he retired?”

“If you say most of the top brass are gone, then I need someone who can verify my identity and who will have the clout to get things done. Are you hearing me, Sergeant?”

“I hear you, sir. I’ll check the roster, see if he’s listed. It’s all on the computer … so give me a minute.”

“That’s all I’ll give you, Sergeant, before I fire up my ship and blaze a trail straight up your ass—”

Sherri jerked the microphone out of Adam’s hands – again. “Very well, Sergeant, just hurry. What Captain Cain said earlier about the Kracori fleet is true. We don’t have a lot of time … son.” The wicked smirk she sent back at Adam did nothing to calm his anger, but it did make Sherri giggle seeing what a curmudgeon he had become – in his old age.

Chapter 33

After creating a very shallow gravity-well, the Pegasus was escorted by the two small monitor ships past Jupiter and Mars and in towards Earth. The tiny ships struggled to keep up.

By this time, the reality of the situation had hit Sherri hard and she was fighting back the tears. Adam wasn’t too far behind. If small units like those piloted by Cadet Adam DePere were all the Earth had left to send against the Kracori then all their efforts to warn the planet would be wasted. The Kracori would crush whatever meager resistance could be thrown against them and carry out their mission … that of the destruction of the Human homeworld.

It took three hours to find Admiral Tobias and get him to a CW link. By then, the Pegasus was just about to enter the atmosphere, and they switched to conventional radio.

“Hot damn, it’s good to hear from the two of you again!” the Georgian yelled through the speakers. “But let’s cut to the gristle – what’s this about some Kracori attack? The youngsters who rousted me out of my retirement seemed mightily confused.”

“Andy, we’re really screwed if what we’ve been told is true: has the entire fleet left the area to fight against some minor-league aliens?”

“Worse than that, Adam, they also pulled most of the security force for the system as well.”

“I saw that. But why would they do that?”

“Shock and awe, Captain, that’s why. Command really wants to go up against Elision, so they figured that if they send all they’ve got against the pointy-eared Jusepi, then they’d finish sooner and head out after the real enemy. However, if what you say is true, it now looks like this will be a home-game against the Kracori, and all we have left on the team are the equipment managers and field crew.”

“Andy, this is serious!” Sherri was nearing hysterics. “There are three hundred Class-4’s and 5’s only two days behind us – what are we going to do?”

“Miss Sherri, I do understand. Please forgive my Southern attempt at lightening the mood. We’ll surely get everything up to meet them, and I mean everything.”

“Sorry, Andy, I’m just really freaking out. I thought by getting here before the Kracori we’d have a good chance of mounting an effective defense. We have thousands of ships to their three hundred. I couldn’t imagine it would be like this.”

“Kind of makes you suspicious of the timing, doesn’t it?” Andy Tobias may be a good ol’ boy from the South, but he had spent twenty-two years as an officer in the SEAL’s. At one time he had been Adam’s lieutenant and direct senior officer in SEAL Team Six. Later, he had volunteered to join Adam and his band of renegades as they took to space again after the Juirean attack on the planet and spent the next three years roaming the edges of the Expansion as part of Adam’s seek-and-destroy unit behind enemy lines. He’d returned to Earth eight years ago and was awarded a meritorious promotion to Captain. A year ago he had put on his first star.

It seemed now his leisurely – and peaceful – retirement had in fact lasted only a total of seven months.

“Just get down here as soon as you can. Land in the VIP section of LZ-5 at Phoenix Command; I’ll have a car waiting. And don’t worry, Miss Sherri. We’ll put our heads together and come up with a plan. As soon as I hang up with you, I’ll start blowing up the cell towers letting everyone on the got-damn planet know what’s up. See you in a few minutes.”

Chapter 34

Adam left his escorts behind and blazed through the atmosphere at twice the legal speed limit, trailing a cloud of white condensation behind the Pegasus as he went. He blasted apart a section of the asphalt landing field with the powerful blasts of his chemical engines and set the ship down hard in a blinding maelstrom of exhaust and sand.

Even before the cloud had cleared, Sherri and Adam were out the side hatch, and with arms shielding their eyes, raced for the waiting military Humvee.

Earth’s military command was also located in the Phoenix complex of buildings. Adam had heard that Tobias chose to remain in the area after his retirement, content with the large home he owned on ten acres, as well as the abundant number of golf courses found throughout the area. Even though they had shared a fair number of rounds of golf together in a more innocent and simpler past, Adam still found it hard to imagine his LT – now admiral – riding a golf-cart with all the other wrinkled old retirees in Bermuda shorts through the hot desert sun, chasing a little white ball up and down the course.

As the car pulled up to the towering military headquarters building, Adam thought there would be no time for golf in the near future – if ever again.

A full-bird colonel escorted them to a ninth-floor conference room where Andy Tobias was already knee-deep in charts and schematics, along with half-a-dozen datapads all aglow with their electric light. There were eight other people crowding the room, with more being added every few seconds.

Tobias looked up when they entered. “Welcome, troublemakers,” he said with a smile, although his eyes sent a different message. Obviously, it hadn’t taken him long to realize just how deep the shit was that they were in.

General Jonathan Aronson entered the room next, followed closely by David Charlton and Aaron Johnson, two of the civilian leaders of the World Governing Authority. “Captain and Ms. Valentine,” the General said with enthusiasm. “You may not remember, but we met once before … in the desert outside Roswell, New Mexico. You and a ragtag band of refugees had just landed in a stolen Juirean shuttlecraft. That was just days before the Juireans attacked. And now I see you’ve returned with news of another impending alien attack. How reliable is your intel, Captain?”

“One hundred percent, General,” Adam said with confidence. “We were held captive briefly aboard the flagship of the Kracori fleet as their commander bragged about the plan of attack.”

“Briefly?” Tobias commented from the other side of the large conference table.

“Yeah, we managed to escape … and take out five of their 5’s on the way here.”

“In that little delta of yours?” Even though his voice expressed a question, Adam could see his former commanding officer beaming with pride.

“That’s a trick you’re going to have to fill us in on, Mr. Cain,” said General Aronson. “By my estimates all we’d need are sixty more like you and we’ll have this thing whipped.”

Adam moved to the table so he could get a look at the force estimates being frantically culled together from a variety of sources. “I’ll be happy to fill you in, General, but first let’s see what we have as far as defenders go.”

The General had expressed his comment rhetorically, so he had not been expecting Adam’s serious reply. He let it pass for now and joined his staff at the table. “Welcome back, Admiral. That retirement didn’t last long.”

“I plan on getting back to it in about three days, sir.” He picked up a remote control from the table and pointed it at a large screen on the wall. An inventory list appeared. “We’re beyond bare bones, General,” Tobias began. “I know I’ve been gone for a few months, but damn, how did this get through the chain of command? Nothing larger than an ‘A’ is left, and there are only forty-two of those.” He ruffled through the papers on the table and found the datapad he was looking for. “Twenty-two of those were in repair at the time the fleet deployed, and five are new off the line.”

He turned to another officer in the room. “I don’t suppose we have very many trained crews sitting around looking for something to do?”

“No sir,” The officer didn’t try to hide his frustration. His name was Richland, and he had just learned what this meeting was about, and now he was too mad – and scared – not to show his emotions. “We pulled every able-body we had to man the fleet. Now all we have left are trainees and civilian instructors. And that’s assuming we can even find ships for them to fly.”

“What about the yards?” Aronson asked to no one in particular. “Any ships operational – or operational enough?”

Another officer scanned a datapad. “We’ll have to check, sir, but there should always be about twenty to thirty just waiting for their final readiness inspections.”

“Screw the inspections, Major,” Aronson said. “Get them up and armed and manned by the construction crews if need be.” He turned to Adam and Sherri. “What’s their objective, Mr. Cain? How are they going to carry this out?”

“Nukes, General. They tried it before with only ten ships. Now they have thirty times that many … and one other thing: The Kracori commander knew the planet would be undefended, the timing of this attack is no accident. What exactly is this Jusepi thing I’ve heard about?”

David Charlton, one of the three leaders of the government – and commonly accepted as its titular head having been elected by the people – stepped forward. He offered his hand to Adam and Sherri. Typical politician, Adam thought.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Cain … and you too Ms. Valentine. I have heard a lot of your exploits throughout the years; very impressive.”

“Excuse me, sir, but we don’t have much time.” Adam caught the smile on Tobias’s face.

“Of course, sorry. The Jusepi are a member race of the Solar Alliance and have been for about five years. Recently they rebelled against the Alliance and destroyed a number of our military bases in the area, as well as the killing of hundreds of Human civilians.”

“Yeah, but did you have to send the whole damn fleet?”

Adam could tell Charlton was shocked that anyone would speak to him in such a manner, especially a mid-level military puke like him. He didn’t care. This was another example of politics trumping sound military judgment. Adam met Charlton’s steely glare with one of his own and watched the rush of emotions cross the politician’s face. To his credit, Charlton quickly regained his composure.

“It was a near-unanimous vote of the Council, Captain.” Adam’s rank suddenly took on the label of an expletive. “By the way, you are partially responsible for this. It was your man Henderson who brought us the McCarthy Coordinates, and your other team member – Riyad Tarazi – who is in the process of verifying those coordinates as we speak. It was decided that since the Kracori were not aware of our knowledge of these coordinates that there would be no harm in making short work of the Jusepi campaign. As General Blake pointed out at the Council meeting, we would then have a fully-trained fleet ready to send against Elision. At the time, we knew of no other threat in the area – other than the Jusepi. And then there are the Klin.”

“The Klin?” Adam turned to General Aronson. “They were with the Kracori and their new fleet, and now you say they’re also involved with these Jusepi characters?”

“It appears as though they have been supplying them with ships and other resources.”

Adam pulled a chair from the table and sat down. “Well, that explains it.”

“Explains what, Adam?” Andy Tobias asked.

“Why the Klin were with the Kracori fleet.” He looked around at the sea of eyes staring at him. “Do I have to spell it out for you? This has all been planned, the Kracori, the Klin, and even the Jusepi. They’re all working together. And the timing of all this tells me that the Kracori know we have the coordinates to Elision; that’s why this is all happening now.”

“The Jusepi revolt is a diversion … to draw the fleet away for the Kracori attack.”

“Exactly General, the Klin and the Kracori are partners again, and now they have a third ally. This has all been a set-up from the beginning, and we rushed head-first right into the trap.” This last sentence was directed at Councilmember David Charlton.

“The Kracori will know we have no real defenders to speak of,” Sherri said, her Kentucky accent cutting through the deep tones from the men in the room. “They’ll blast right in here with nothing to fear. So, smart guys, what are you going to do about it?”

Adam was surprised when no one spoke up. In a room full of confident and skilled professional soldiers, none could offer an equally confident and skilled response. What had been discussed earlier now paled in comparison in light of the full gravity of the situation. The Kracori knew the defensive stance of the planet, and they knew that anything the Humans could muster in the last minute would be insufficient to stop them.

Sherri looked down at Adam and raised her eyebrows. She nodded her head.

Adam nodded back. “General, Andy, can I speak with you in private?”

“Of course,” the General replied. “Please everyone, give us the room.”

“We will be staying,” Charlton said, referring to him and Councilmember Aaron Johnson.

Adam glared at the politician. The Kracori fleet commander Runor had said the Klin still had spies in the Human government; in fact they had helped steer the decision to send the fleet to the Jusepi. These men – and those they confided in – couldn’t be trusted, yet Aronson and Tobias didn’t have the authority to restrict them from hearing what Adam was about to tell them….

* * *

Once the room was clear, all attention focused on Adam. “I’ll get right to it. I have a device implanted in my body which allows me to tap into and control just about any microprocessor or other electronic device within a half-mile of my location.” He paused to let the impact of his statement to sink in.

To his amazement, no one even raised an eyebrow of their own or showed any sign of surprise or disbelief.

“Nobody has anything to say about that?”

“I’ve been out there with you, Captain,” Tobias said. “I’m not surprised by much of anything these days.”

“Is that how you escaped from the Kracori and destroyed their ships?” It was a statement from the General, rather than a question.

“Yes sir. And I’ve discovered a little trick that might help us in the coming battle – yet it’s not a complete solution by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Understood, Captain; go ahead.”

“Since my powers – if you will – are very limited in range, they’re not effective against ships in space, at least not directly. But I’ve found a way to tap into their CW-comm links and create a ghost device within the computer systems aboard their ships and then control them remotely.”

Charlton exploded with enthusiasm. “Then that’s our answer, gentlemen! Mr. Cain here can simply disable the Kracori ships … and the crisis will be averted.”

“Sir, it doesn’t work like that.”

“What doesn’t? You just said you can infiltrate their ships—”

“One at a time; I can only do it one at a time. And then that takes a lot of time and concentration. Then once I’m aboard, I have to follow dozens of electronic pathways just to find the right ones to disable the ship. There are three hundred ships coming; I won’t be able to stop them all.”

Tobias slapped the table. “Well at least we can cut their numbers down some, maybe enough so that our makeshift defense shield can do the rest.”

“That’s all I can promise, Andy. I’ll do what I can.”

“And what about the ship you came in?” the General asked. “I’ve been told it’s something special.”

“It has what’s called concentrated-array gravity-drive.”

“What the hell is that?” Aaron Johnson asked, speaking for the first time.

“It allows for eight focusing rings at a time, making it possible to achieve space-lane speeds while in normal, populated space. It’s why we were able to beat the Kracori here, even when they have Class 4’s and 5’s.”

“Any special weapons, too?” Johnson followed up.

“Unfortunately, no; it was built to shuttle me and my team around the Expansion in record time. That’s about all it’s good for.”

“But it does have some weapons, doesn’t it?” Tobias asked, already knowing the answer. He trained Adam, so he knew the former SEAL wouldn’t go anywhere with being armed.

“It has a complete bank of flash cannon … and we even put in a few gravity-assisted missiles. But we only have a dozen of the missiles onboard.”

“That’s better than nothing,” Tobias said. “So how do we exploit your … well, power … to its highest and best use?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. It’s a sure bet that the Kracori will be in constant CW communication with all their units. We need to set up a station where we can scan those transmissions, letting me hack into them. Then once I have control of a ship, I can shut down their weapons and defenses so that even our smallest ships can take them out.”

General Aronson took the remote control from the table and toggled through various screens on the big monitor until he found what he was looking for. “This is a summary of the last Kracori attack plan from nine years ago. It’s what I thought; they struck from multiple directions. If they do that again, we’ll need ships spread out all around the planet, and the further out we deploy – giving us more time to react and deploy our resources – means we’ll need a lot more ships to form the screen. With the defensive line closer in – fewer ships, yet less reaction time. Your recommendation, Mr. Cain, how fast can you disable one of the Kracori ships?”

“I wish I had a firm answer for you, General. I’m sure that as I gain entry to more and more of their ships, I’ll learn the pathways better, cutting down on the time. But it also depends on how fast they enter the system. If they come in on full gravity, we’ll only have an hour or so. If they take a cockier stance, and just waltz in thinking there’s nothing we can do to stop them, then we may have up to four hours.”

“There are three hundred of them!” David Charlton said, his voice now strained and near hysterics. “How can you possibly think you can stop them all?”

The three military men in the room turned to him with strong, fearless looks on their faces. “That’s not the question, Mr. Charlton,” Andy Tobias said, rising up from his seat. “The real question is: How can the Kracori possibly think they can attack our home – the home planet of the Humans – and get away with it? Now, gentlemen – and lady – we have a planet to save.”

Chapter 35

Major Paul Richland, the officer most-intimate with the construction inventory of fresh-off-the-line starships, was placed in charge of securing every ship and crew he could find to help form the Human defense shield. The military command staff then debated whether or not to let the general population know of the impending attack, to help bolster the volunteer rank of starships from other sources – anything that a missile or 50-caliber cannon could be attached to within the next twenty-four hours.

It was decided they would stockpile the weapons and line up the install crews yet wait until they got an accurate count of the military and governmental craft available. The fear was that anyone with access to a spaceship would bolt away from the planet as fast as they could. Riots may even erupt, as a panicked population sought passage from the Earth in any vessel they could find, whether they were invited guests or not.

Once the bulk of the rag-tag fleet was assembled, then they would break the news to the rest of the planet and ask for volunteers.

Adam set up shop aboard the main orbiting communications station for the planet; however the room he claimed for an operations center was small – small for the seriousness of the activities that would take place therein. It measured sixty-feet deep by forty wide, and was already equipped with several banks of communication monitors capable of tracking thousands of CW-links simultaneously. The Continuous-Wormhole array on the station was the largest in the system, and was itself linked to hundreds of remote monitors placed beyond the Solar System and out to a distance of a light-year. They would see the Kracori coming; what the Humans could do to stop them still remained a question.

Adam was always amazed what can be accomplished when all parties work together for a common goal – it was one of the attributes he most-admired about the military – and within twelve hours of their arrival on Earth, General Aronson and his staff already had a mosquito fleet of nine hundred ships ready for deployment.

In a normal battle theater, it would take three hundred or more of these tiny ships to take out a single Class-5, and that would leave no survivors on either side to continue the fight. And so for maximum efficiency during the coming conflict, Aronson segregated the fleet into three units. Group A were the true fighting ships – the KFV-A’s and equivalent. Group B were for the lightly-armed, non-military combatants, comprised mainly of the relatively-few spaceships operated by the hundreds of police forces, immigration control and drug interdiction units of the planet. The final unit – Group C – included various government survey vessels, monitoring craft and like, which were now being armed with one-shot-and-forget flash cannon, gravity missiles and ballistic weaponry such as the 50-mm scatter guns. These units were the most-numerous and would be used primarily against Adam’s disabled ships. They would be spread throughout a vast defensive sphere surrounding the planet, while the other combat units would be clustered at central locations, ready to be deployed to where they were needed the most.

Of the nine hundred ships culled together to form the planetary defense shield, the two hundred eight combat vessels of Group A were also supplied with nuclear-tipped missiles. Even though the tiny ships lacked the proper guidance systems for the nukes, the Humans would meet nuclear force with nuclear force, even if it came down to suicide missions to stop them.

However, the fact no one wanted to speak of was that the Kracori nukes – at least the ones they had used in the past – were more-powerful than anything in the Human nuclear arsenal, easily by a factor of two-to-one. It was the opinion of Command that the Kracori wouldn’t waste their nukes simply to ward off attacking spaceships, yet it was the ramifications for the planet if they failed that made their insides knot-up with fear and worry.

* * *

Twenty-four hours had passed since the first warning of the Kracori attack had been sounded and when the farthest detection devices of the Solar Alliance – located some fifty light-years from the Earth – began to detect the faint trace of a massive gravity-wave promulgating through space-time. The Kracori were coming, there was no doubt any longer. Now it was time to let the rest of planet know.

This task fell to David Charlton and the other Councilmembers, and as was expected, wholesale panic set in as thousands of gravity-drive spaceships, including merchants, huge commodity transports and even private owners, all bolted for the safety of space.

Yet not all of them took flight.

To the surprise – and relief – of the military planners, Phoenix Command was deluged with thousands of volunteer requests, many more than they had makeshift weapons to go around. Hundreds of military and government workers poured through the volunteer offers, selecting only the most-viable ships to be fitted with weapons and deployed to the three sub-commands. Soon the Human defense shield numbered over twenty-four hundred armed vessels. It was impressive, but still not enough in any scenario the military experts ran. And yet every little bit would help.

* * *

Adam was wide awake on a cot that had been provided for him at one side of the operations center. He stared at the ceiling with unblinking eyes when he should have been trying to get some sleep. But that wasn’t going to happen. As he saw it, if they failed to stop the Kracori, there would be plenty of time for sleep – when he was dead.

Instead, he tried to come to grips with the incredible responsibility that was now his to bear. So much now hinged on his ability to use the ATD efficiently … and to do it in record time. He knew he had the power within him to destroy whole starships; what he didn’t know was how many. No matter how hard he thought about it, he couldn’t settle on an estimate. There were three hundred of them, and all rushing headlong to deliver their payloads on a target as large as a planet. If this had been a stand-up fight between fleets, and stretching over several hours, he might have a better chance at stopping dozens, if not hundreds of the enemy. But these ships wouldn’t be waiting around to have their computer systems hacked. Adam would truly have to be on his game, and it wouldn’t help that he would be facing such an overwhelming task having been awake for over forty hours straight.

Chapter 36

Adam and Sherri had accurately estimated the time of the Kracori’s arrival. Just over forty-eight hours after their arrival on Earth, the first elements of the Kracori fleet entered the outer boundary of the Solar System.

Following the strategy they’d used in their previous attack, the Kracori approached the system from several directions. Adam was at his station aboard the huge communication’s station, while the techs behind him sent hundreds of CW traces to his screen.

The aliens were being very cautious. Acting on suspicions after Adam’s fraudulent message concerning the destruction of the Pegasus, the Kracori strategists had reasoned that the Humans must have a way of hacking into their communications systems, and so everything sent out ship-to-ship and ship-to-Elision was highly scrambled. Even then, Adam was sure they were still scratching their heads over the loss of five of their most-powerful warships while in pursuit of one puny and undermanned Human spaceship. That was a mystery – hopefully – they would not live to resolve.

The vast CW-array aboard the station was sending out blanket broadcasts across every possible bandwidth, looking for a backdoor into the Kracori system. Adam could detect hundreds of messages being sent, yet he couldn’t access any of the waves. It was as if an iron shield was wrapping the conduit wormholes.

This wasn’t going to work. He wouldn’t be able to disable a single alien spaceship!

His heart began to pound up in his ears, and his brow was suddenly bathed in sweat. As the seconds passed, and the techs behind awaited his orders, Adam racked his brain for a solution. It didn’t help that the fate of his planet – his entire race – now rested in his sweaty hands.

Out of desperation, Adam sent out a conventional CW-link to the planet Formil, his ATD riding the wave across thousands of light-years. Once the link was established, he searched frantically for the unique signature of Arieel Bol’s own ATD – the Gift, she called it.

Links between Formilian-designed telepathy devices were unique and very strong, even across galactic distances, and it was only a matter of seconds before Arieel’s ATD lit-up Adam’s consciousness like a lighthouse in the darkness.

It must have been night on Formil, because when Arieel acknowledged the link, her thoughts were groggy and disoriented.

Adam, is that you? What is the matter; you do not initiate contact without reason?

I need your help … and I need it now! His thoughts carried all the emotion and urgency as spoken words. The Kracori are beginning their all-out attack on Earth—

Why did you not contact me earlier? We have discussed this attack before. I should have been available for assistance before now.

Sorry, I thought I could handle it, but the Kracori are using some advanced shielding codes for their CW-comms. I can’t break through.

Let me try. I may be able to trace the links originating on Elision. Allow me access to your Gift – I mean your device.

A mere thought on his part and she was in. I see your dilemma, she said almost immediately – she was much better at this than he was. I can’t penetrate either, yet let me follow the links to Elision. I’m sure communications between units on the planet will not be so shielded … why would they bother?

The techs behind him shifted nervously in their chairs. The tracks of the Kracori ships were growing ever-closer, and still Adam had not issued a single order. Since his communications with Arieel were on a telepathic level, it appeared to the others in the room as if Adam was simply staring off into space, doing nothing. Even then, they dared not interrupt his concentration.

There! Arieel’s blasted into his mind. There are thousands of links going back and forth between the Kracori on Elision regarding the attack. I have attached myself to several of the more promising ones. If these are forwarded to the fleet, then you will have your access. They may be scrambled, yet you will be within the link and unaffected. There it goes…!

Adam was thrown back in his chair by the tremendous volume of input suddenly flowing into his mind. An excruciating pain shot from the back of his head and through his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut hard and forced out a guttural groan. It was as if his brain were about to explode.

Help me, Arieel! It’s too much….

Forgive me, Adam, I will assume some of the volume.

The pain began to subside and his vision returned to normal. Two officers were now standing next to him, hands on his shoulders. “You okay, man?” one of the men asked.

Through tear-filled eyes, Adam looked up at the Navy officer. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. We’ve been trying to get through their comm filters. When we did, there was a shit-load of it.”

“We?” the officer asked.

“Yeah, I’m getting a little help from an old friend. Return to your stations; the fun is about to begin.”

With Arieel’s help, the two of them began to filter the links to those between specific Kracori starships within the theater of operation. Once a line was detected, Adam followed it back to the source, invading first the CW computer aboard and then the rest of the ship’s systems.

On the main screen dominating the forward bulkhead of the comm-room, Adam’s ATD identified the ship he was linked to.

“Here’s our first target of the day!” Adam called out. “What units do we have near that ship?”

Six small blue circles appeared on the screen forward of the trajectory line of the Kracori ship. “Group B’s, Mr. Cain, lightly-armed planetary police ships; they only have basic 50-mm cannon and gravity-assisted Monitor missiles. No energy weapons at all.”

“Send them in. By the time they arrive I’ll have disarmed the Kracori ship.”

When no acknowledging response came from behind, Adam turned to look at the nine pair of doubtful eyes looking at him. He smiled. “Trust me … they’ll get no defensive fire from the Kracori.”

“Roger that!” said Captain Dave Robe, the senior Tac-officer within the room. He placed the order without further delay and the other technicians within the room returned to their tasks.

Adam turned back to his station hoping he was right about what he just said – and that he wasn’t leading the Davids to the slaughter against the Goliaths. He focused his concentration and traced the electronic highways of the Kracori ship until he found the junction where the four independent computers controlling the ship’s weapons batteries separated. With a modicum of experience gained only days earlier, Adam hacked into each computer and disabled them. With the signals aboard the ships traveling at near the speed-of-light, as fast as he could think them his commands were executed.

The six relatively miniscule contacts moved to cross the path of the speeding Class-5 starship. The Kracori didn’t attempt to evade, fully confident that the tiny contacts presented no serious threat. But then when the Humans fell within the range of the 5’s weapons – and still no destructive bolts shot out to eliminate the tiny force – Adam was sure panic was erupting aboard the Kracori ship. Now the tiny force of six Human ships unleashed their missiles and flooded the space along the path of the Kracori with thousands of 50-mm shells.

Even though the missiles were small in comparison to their target, they encountered no resistance at all and breached the hull of the giant warship with ease, penetrating deep inside before exploding. Almost simultaneously, the Kracori ship – traveling at incredible velocity – encountered the field of the silver-colored metal bullets which had been sucked up by the singularity and angled in toward the ship at unbelievable speed. Between the shredding of the forward section of the ship as it hit the shells, and the six heavy explosions from within, the Kracori dreadnaught literally evaporated into the darkness of space.

The operation’s room exploded with cheers from the assembled techs. It had worked, and now even the small and lightly armed ships comprising Earth’s only line of defense could take down the superior enemy. The professional military personnel in the room quickly resumed their stations along with their serious demeanors, yet with a renewed spirit of confidence.

“What’s next, Mr. Cain?” Captain Robe asked jubilantly.

“Give me a minute,” Adam said, which was not the response the officer had been expecting. Worry crossed his face as he watched the nearly three hundred other red tracks on the forward screen rapidly approaching his homeworld.

Adam quickly followed another link to a second ship. In a few seconds he had accomplished the same disarming procedure. “There! That’s your target.”

The highlighted ship was on the complete opposite side of the system from the first one. The techs buried their heads in their stations. “We don’t have any assets in that area, Mr. Cain!” Robe cried out. “We just don’t have enough ships to cover the entire sphere around the planet.”

“That’s okay,” Adam said, even though his voice didn’t carry the same message. “I’ll get you another one. Hopefully it will be near some of the defenders, but I have no control over the location of the ships I link to.

He tried again, and this time, even though this ship was still several million miles from the first Kracori ship, Robe did have ships within the path of this target. While the captain deployed his defenders, Adam returned to the other Kracori ship. If it couldn’t be destroyed from the outside, then he’d have to do it himself.

He quickly reenergized the ship’s weapons systems. Since the massive flash cannon aboard the dreadnaught worked on the same rail-gun system as the hand-held MK’s and Xan-Fi’s, Adam severed the discharge connections to the rail system and then sent a massive electrical charge surging into the system. With no place to release its energy, the weapons simply exploded, as did four other batteries aboard the warship. However, even with the extensive damage caused by the overloaded flash cannon, the ship was not destroyed, although most of its generator capacity had been lost, as well as several focusing rings. No longer able to play a part in the upcoming attack, the ship turned about and limped away toward the outer system.

Adam focused his attention on the forward monitor just in time to see the third Kracori ship disappear off the screen. Three down … and only two-hundred ninety-seven more to go.

Arieel, have you been watching what I’ve been doing? Adam thought through the unimaginable immensity of space.

Yes, said the ethereal voice. Very clever.

Do you think you could do some of this yourself? There are just too many ships and not enough time.

Yes, I can. How shall we allocate our efforts?

Why don’t you disable as many weapons systems as you can, and I’ll do some more proactive damage aboard the other ships.

Commencing assistance!

Adam grinned at the child-like enthusiasm Arieel’s thoughts conveyed. She had never done anything remotely like this before with her ATD and he sensed she was treating it almost as a game, with she and Adam competing to see who could disable the most attacking Kracori warships. He let her continue with her thoughts; it provided her with more incentive to defend a world that was not her own.

Soon a dozen more attacking Kracori ships were highlighted as having dysfunctional weapons and defensive systems. The techs in the room were suddenly overwhelmed with available targets. The cacophony of excited voices behind him was both distracting and reassuring. With expert precision, the men and women went about deploying the scarce defensive resources of a desperate planet.

Meanwhile, Adam returned to his probing of the other ships. Again, without any control as to the location of the ships he penetrated, he wasn’t able to fill in the defensive holes which were becoming more apparent by the minute. He took out a dozen more ships, some experiencing such catastrophic secondary explosions aboard that they were completely destroyed, while others were taken out of action by the severity of the damage.

But then he noticed something odd.

Three of the ships he had previously taken out of commission were returning to the battle. He tapped into the command communications aboard one of them. What he learned turned his blood cold.

Even though they would be unable to deliver their nuclear weapons through traditional means, these ships had decided on suicide runs to complete their mission. They would arm their weapons … and then crash their damaged ships onto the surface of the Earth.

Adam highlighted the three ships he knew for sure were following this strategy. “Captain, can you get any units to intercept these three ships?”

Captain Robe moved next to Adam and scrutinized the monitor. Adam saw him grimace with pain from the debilitating sciatic nerve condition in his lower back. He shouldn’t have even been on duty, let alone coordinating the defensive units of an entire planet. Yet nothing was going to keep Captain Dave Robe from doing his duty … not today.

“Possibly,” he said after studying the screen. “What’s so special about these?”

“They’re kamikazes, Captain. Even though I’ve set off major explosions onboard, they’re still coming. Without weapons and with diminished maneuvering capability, they’ll be easy to take out … if you have units to spare.”

“Mr. Cain, I have units scrambling all over the system, but I think it’s about time we accept the fact that some of the Kracori units are going to get through. Just ten-percent will be thirty ships, and that’s three times as many as they used on their last attempt.” Captain Robe looked at the screen again. “I’ll do what I can; I believe we have adequate numbers of ships in space, they’re just not all in the proper locations. And when you’re talking in the millions of miles between targets, it takes time to deploy assets.”

“Sorry to pull you away from your station, Captain,” Adam said. “I’ll see what I can do on my end.”

“Good luck.”

“You too.”

Adam returned to the link with one of the new kamikaze ships. The electronics aboard were a mess, with several paths blocked or cut off by the explosions, some of which were still erupting aboard the Kracori warship.

He should have anticipated this. After all, the Kracori were fighting for the survival of their homeworld, just as Adam was fighting for his. If he had been in the shoes of the Kracori, he would have given the same command.

He tried the environmental controls aboard the starship. Cutting off the atmosphere aboard would kill off most of the crew – if he had time. Yet that wouldn’t work. As the battle was progressing, the Kracori were now thirty minutes from the planet. A quick glance at the monitor gave him a grim picture. Even though over two hundred of the attackers had been destroyed, there still appeared to be close to seventy alien ships bearing down on the planet.

He returned to his primary task – that of destroying as many of the full-strength ships as he could. Robe was right, some of the attackers were going to get through, and if so, then he would prefer them to be the crippled suicide units instead of undamaged ships.

As the number of viable targets continued to drop –many taken out by Adam and Arieel, with others still destroyed by the Group A and B defenders, some using their nuclear-tip missiles – Adam found he was constantly bumping into Arieel aboard the same ships. He would let her take the lead, and then shoot off looking for a virgin target. Soon the number of ships approaching the planet unimpeded was down to nineteen … and yet at any moment they would be entering the atmosphere.

Suddenly, the monitors displayed an array of individual chemical trails depart from twelve of the Kracori ships. Each of the attackers had just released a barrage of forty missiles. Not counting the kamikazes, that was four-hundred-eighty of the high-yield nuclear weapons the Kracori processed.

Everyone stood frozen in their positions as the room grew graveyard quiet. They watched helplessly as the tracks entered the atmosphere and began their headlong fall to the surface. Much to his surprise, Adam noticed the missiles did not appear to have any designated targets. Instead, they fanned out evenly in an attempt to cover as much land surface as possible. Adam nodded, a sick feeling rising up in his stomach. The Kracori were out to irradiate the entire planet, so individual population centers and other specific targets didn’t matter. Just explode as many nuclear devices on the surface as possible, and then let physics, chemistry and biology do the rest.

Someone vomited loudly behind him as the first surface contacts were noted. Even though they had destroyed ninety-five percent of the fleet, they were still going to fail in their attempt to save the planet Earth … their home.

Chapter 37

Sherri Valentine…

Sherri was in a situation room with Admiral Andy Tobias, watching the carnage begin to spread across the surface of the Earth. Control and Command within Phoenix Central was located three hundred forty feet beneath the surface of the desert down within a block of solid rock. Nothing less than a direct hit by one of the Kracori nukes could take them out, and according to the reports, the targets of the attack appeared to be random, more a spread than a concentrated barrage.

The monitors on the walls of the command bunker showed not only visual images of the gigantic mushroom clouds rising up from the surface, but also radiation levels as measured from space. The planet suddenly looked as if it had a severe case of the measles, with tiny red dots sprouting up seemingly everywhere.

Throughout the room, men and women stood dumbfounded and helpless, watching the red circles grow larger across the surface before beginning to deform as atmospheric winds began the rapid spread of deadly radiation around the globe.

Sherri was beyond tears; she was in shock, and watched as one of the monitoring spacecraft entered the edge of one of the mushroom clouds under a shallow gravity-well. Even in the face of utter devastation, the pilot and crew were still doing their jobs.

Just then the radiation levels in that part of the cloud dropped dramatically. Sherri was shaken out of her trance by the readings. Could this be real? She continued to watch as the ship completed its sweep and turned away.

A voice boomed out of the speakers in the room. “Hazmat-Twelve to Command … did you just see that?”

Admiral Tobias had also noticed the drop in rad levels. “Roger, H-12. Can you explain?”

“Yes sir!” There was a pause on the speaker. Then: “It’s the damn gravity-well, Admiral. Sucked up the cloud lickity-split! I’m going in for another pass.”

All eyes in the room watched the readings as the small, unarmed craft swung around for another run. This time the ship entered more of the roiling mass of the mushroom cloud … and more of it vanished into the maw of the singularity of the gravity-well.

“Hot damn, it did it again!”

Sherri stepped forward and fingered the comm button. “H-12, what’s your internal rad level?”

There was even a longer pause before the answer. “Not good, Command. We’re getting a heavy dose as the cloud is pulled in from all around us, adding to the concentration.”

Already experts in the room were tapping into the computers aboard Hazmat-12; a sheet of paper was handed to the Admiral. “Commander, the experts here say you can only do one more pass before the level becomes lethal. Even at that, you could be in for some serious trouble down the road.”

The track of the H-12 made a wide loop and headed back towards the cloud. “Do you acknowledge my last, H-12?” Tobias yelled into the microphone.

“Roger that, Admiral, but what choice do we have? Pardon my language, but this shit is going to kill us all – at least all who can’t get off the planet within the next few days, which we both know will be in the billions. I see this as our only chance.”

“I can’t order you to do this … you’re a civilian.”

“No need, Admiral. My crew just gave me the go-ahead. We’re going to make as many passes as we can and then head for space. After all, it wouldn’t do for us to crash on the surface. Who knows what would happen to all that pent-up radiation when the well dissolves? Let’s see how it goes….”

Over the next fifteen minutes, H-12 made seven more passes before finally making a beeline for outer space. In the meantime, the radiation level of the massive cloud had dropped seventy-percent. A few minutes after leaving the atmosphere, several attempts were made to contact the pilot – now identified as a man with the exotic name of Saxon Andrew. No response came from Hazmat-12; the ship didn’t deviate from its course, and soon it was out of practical radio communications range with Command, and without CW equipment aboard, the H-12 was gone forever.

“Lieutenant,” Andy Tobias called out. “Make a note that I’m recommending Mr. Andrew and his crew for the Medal of Service award – or whatever we have these days for the top civilian honor. I’m sure the bigwigs in the Council won’t protest too much.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Sherri was standing next to the Admiral. “Now what? We can’t very well order thousands of people to commit suicide.”

The Admiral made a sweeping motion with his hand at the bank of monitors on the wall. “We don’t have to, Miss Sherri. We don’t have to order anyone.”

On every monitor, an entire fleet of tiny gravity-drive ships was taking to the air. They consisted of small police units, scientific survey ships, commercial transports and merchantmen. Even some privately-owned vessels were making for the nearest mushroom cloud, as the news of Hazmat-12’s success spread like wildfire throughout all the world’s surviving communication channels.

Sherri and Andy watched with tears following from their eyes as cloud after cloud was absorbed by hundreds of gravity-well passes … and then the heroes would cast themselves off into the graveyard of space on one-way journeys into eternity.

As the bulk of the clouds were absorbed the ambient radiation levels in the atmosphere dropped dramatically, although not completely back to normal. The last ships involved in the cleanup made dozens of passes through wind-blown pockets before their internal radiation levels reached critical – and then they, too, headed for outer space.

* * *

Nine hours later, and near the point of complete exhaustion, Admiral Tobias and Sherri received the latest report. The atmosphere would still contain a higher-than-normal radiation level for several years to come, yet nothing approaching critical. Now all they had to do was contend with the physical damage caused by the bombs themselves.

Because of the randomness of the attack, very few had hit highly-populated regions. Even still, an estimated eight-hundred million people died instantly as a result of the bombardment. And though the atmospheric radiation levels were contained, those near the blast areas were doomed. Another billion-and-a-half would perish from radiation poisoning and cancer in the years to come.

* * *

The planet Earth would survive, yet the loss of innocence within the Human race was gone forever. Within days, there arose such a cry from the survivors for absolute revenge against the Kracori that all sense of humanity and compassion were discarded from the discussions of retribution. There would be no rest for the Human race until all their enemies were completely and utterly destroyed. No more diplomacy, no more talk of compromise or of treaties and political resolutions.

There was a blood-score to settle with the aliens, and the apex predator of the planet Earth was about to become the apex predator of any entire galaxy.

Chapter 38

Nigel McCarthy…

Two weeks after leaving his abandoned base on Highland, Nigel McCarthy was finally nearing his destination. Even though he didn’t have specifics, he – along with most of the people in the galaxy – knew that this region of space was where the Juireans had retreated to after the sacking of Juir. It was a cluster of forty minor and mainline stars near what would be the beginning of the opposite arm of the galaxy from Earth.

When Juir had been overrun by the Kracori twelve years before – only to be chased away themselves by the approaching Human fleet – the Juireans had abdicated control of the Expansion and disappeared from the galactic political scene. Yet there were still over a billion of them and a fleet of over five thousand starships, many of them weapons of war. So, as much as they might like to, the Juireans found it impossible to hide from the rest of the galaxy. Nearly every major race in the Expansion knew the region of the galaxy where they’d gone, yet very few attempted contact. All were content to let the sleeping giant lie, for fear that if provoked the Juireans may attempt to reclaim what had once been theirs.

The passage between two young red giant stars marked the boundary of Juirean space, and it didn’t take long before Nigel found out why. Within an hour, two Juirean Class-3’s moved up to flank his much-smaller starship. It had been a decade or more since Nigel had last seen a Juirean warcraft up close, and it was at times like this that most designers of the best-laid plans had their greatest doubts and regrets. Strangely, Nigel felt very confident in his plan; he just hoped the Juireans would feel the same.

A link came in from his Juirean escorts. “Attention foreign vessel, you have entered forbidden space. You are ordered to reverse course immediately and not to return. You have thirty seconds to comply.”

Nigel fingered the comm link. “Please begin recording the following message. I am Nigel McCarthy, and I request an audience with Elder Wydor Bin Sulic to reveal the location of the Kracori homeworld of Elision. This message is extremely important to the Juirean people. I will comply with your directives once a response is received regarding my request.”

There was a long pause on the link until another Juirean voice boomed out of the stereo speakers in the pilothouse of Nigel’s Exitor-class starship. “You will cease your forward progress and remain on station until otherwise ordered. No other communications will be acknowledged until a response is returned.”

“I am reducing power and will comply immediately.”

Nigel was taking a calculated guess. Several years ago, he had orchestrated the abduction of the former Juirean Elder Hydon Ra Elys, and had accompanied him to the Kracori homeworld. Hydon’s fate had never been revealed, however Nigel was sure the Juirean had expired years ago. His successor at the time had been Wydor, and with the longevity of Juireans, Nigel had taken a chance that he was still the head-bloke-in-charge. The fact that his message had been sent to wherever the Juireans had settled spoke to the fact that he had guessed right.

McCarthy had hoped to be more cryptic with his message and play the game a little closer to the vest. But he also knew he’d only get one chance to play his hand. Undoubtedly the Juireans had long memories, so he was sure his name would be in a database somewhere, and it would be linked to the kidnapping and death of their former leader.

The risk he was taking was enormous; the Juireans were not known for compassion or even rationality. They had been in charge of the galaxy for four-thousand years, and as a consequence, it was not they who compromised in negotiations, but rather the other party. However, Nigel had something of extreme value to offer the Juireans.

And they would also have him.

Nigel acknowledged there was a chance the Juireans may have changed over the past decade, tempering their aggressive nature to such a degree that revenge against the race of beings who ravaged their homeworld might not be a path they wished to follow. However, even if that were so, the execution of the alien responsible for the death of their beloved Elder Hydon – well, that would be a no-brainer.

Nigel was counting on the instinctive bond the Juireans felt for the planet Juir to give him something to bargain with. Either he was going to die at the hands of the Juireans … or he would walk out of the negotiations with enough credits and resources to build an even bigger and more powerful paramilitary operation than he had before. And when he added to the equation the prospect of thousands of his troops armed with the telepathy medallions, then Nigel McCarthy may one day have enough power – and immunity – to return to Earth without fear.

If not, then he would be content with taking over a little slice of the galaxy for himself.

It took two hours for the inevitable response to be received by his escorts, at which time he was ordered to transfer to one of the Class-3’s while the other would take his ship in tow. This was encouraging since it appeared the Juirean Council wanted to see him as soon as possible.

For what purpose, he would soon find out.

* * *

After spending two days in a ten-by-ten cabin, with three square meals provided daily, his Class-3 transport finally arrived at its destination. None of the Juireans aboard the ship offered either a name or location of the planet the Juireans had settled on after leaving Juir. It really didn’t matter; he just had an innate curiosity regarding such things.

McCarthy was placed in the windowless rear of a shuttle and transported to the surface. The small spacecraft then moved into a covered terminal before he departed, so even then he didn’t get a glimpse of the landscape of this mystery planet.

He and his six escorts – all green-haired Guards – boarded a magnetic-lift shuttle car and took a fifteen-minute journey within an enclosed tube before emerging at a brightly-lit commuter station. Dozens of Juireans were present, along with hundreds of members of a race he didn’t recognize. Several of the Juireans stopped to stare at him as he was led out of the terminal and to a waiting transport. If only they knew who I am, Nigel thought. He was sure many would have volunteered on the spot to rip him limb-from-limb for the crimes he had committed against the Juirean people. They may still get their chance….

Nigel finally got the opportunity to see parts of the city he was in during the ride to wherever he was to meet the Juirean Elder. It was a large and modern city, populated mainly by the tall, skinny creatures he’d seen in the subway terminal. This led Nigel to believe that the billion or so Juireans who had left the Expansion had settled en masse elsewhere, and this planet was probably just where the Elites resided.

The transport stopped at the wide entrance to a large dome-shaped building, something akin to an enclosed football stadium one would find in the States back on Earth. Juirean writing was displayed in huge letters above the multi-door entrance, which, of course, he couldn’t decipher. His guards flanked him as he climbed the thirty or so steps to the landing near the doors. He entered the building and was directed through a large opening, revealing that this building was indeed an auditorium of some sort, but not for sports. The central area of the vast chamber was too small for athletic events, and instead a large circular table was located at the epicenter. Row upon row of large, Juirean-size seats rose up from the floor to easily climb fifty levels above. They were all empty at the time.

However, there were a dozen or so Juireans seated at the table at the focus of the room, taking up about half of its circumference, and all with magnificent white manes. Nigel’s heart began to pound. This was the Council Elite, the most-powerful class of Juireans … and all were here to pass judgment on him.

It had been a long time since he’d last seen Elder Wydor, and with most Juireans looking alike to him, he wasn’t sure which one he was. The round table had no apparent head, and all the Council members were glaring at him equally with undisguised contempt. Any one of these beings could be Wydor.

There was an unoccupied section of the table with a single chair; he took the seat.

The Juirean directly across the table leaned in and placed his arms on the table. “You may not remember me, but we have met before … I am Wydor bin Sulic, Elder of the Juirean Council Elite. When last I saw you, Nigel McCarthy, you had our respected previous Elder by the neck and leading him away at the threat of his life.” Wydor leaned back in his chair and waved a hand indicating the vast building in which they were seated. “You may not be aware, but this building is named Hydon Hall, in honor of my good friend and mentor who served this Council and the Juirean people for over twenty-five standard years.” Wydor paused as his jaw tightened and the veins in his neck began to engorge. “Hydon Ra Elys was also the first – and only – Elder in four thousand years to meet his death by hostile means.” Wydor violently slapped the surface of the table. “The first – and it came about from your actions! You may not have wielded the killing blade, but you made it possible, and therefore you are just as guilty as the Kracori.”

The Elder took several deep breaths and looked around the table at the faces of the other Council Elites. When he leaned back in toward the table, his impossibly blue eyes burned with a fiery intensity. “However, the only thing we hate more than you at this moment are the Kracori, and that is the solitary reason you are still alive. You Humans are a conniving and deceptive race, so the reason you have presented yourself here is not to be trusted. You have alluded to knowing the location of the Kracori homeworld; yes that information would have value to the Council. Yet if you expect that to save your life, you are gravely mistaken.”

“Then I guess we have nothing to discuss,” Nigel said, attempting his best to keep his voice calm and measured. He was indeed in the lion’s den, and by the look of these beasts, they hadn’t been fed in months. If he weren’t careful his life expectancy could be measured in minutes.

Wydor blinked rapidly several times giving Nigel the impression this was not the response he had expected after the Juirean’s diatribe. “There will be no discussion,” Wydor said finally. “You will tell us the location and we will then see about ending your life in a swift and painless manner. Otherwise, we will pull the information from you through our own unique methods of torture.”

“You know as well as I that your methods will not work on me. I will die … and you will not have the information regarding the location of Elision.” It was Nigel’s turn to lean in and place his elbows on the table. “Let’s face it, both our races have been manipulated by, and become victims of, the Klin’s plan for galactic domination. As such, we have each done what we felt necessary for survival. I did nothing on Juir that any one of you would not have done to save your own lives. With that said, I’m sure you can see the practical side of negotiating with me. I am but one man on which you can exact your vitriol. However, I’m offering you an entire race instead, and the race of beings who destroyed your precious Juir. To me, that would be a much more satisfying outcome.”

Wydor took in the faces of the other members of the Council before responding. He slowly nodded. “We will listen, yet we offer no guarantees. You obviously want something in return for this information. What is that … your life and your freedom?”

Nigel smiled, revealing his teeth to the gathered aliens. Some appeared to gasp, while others knew Humans better and understood that this was simply a facial expression and not a life-challenge. “My Lord Wydor, I had my life and my freedom prior to coming here. Until now, I had no fear of the Juireans ever finding me. No, my desires are for more than what I already had before presenting myself to the Council.”

“And what are those?”

“I seek a small fleet of vessels, along with sufficient credits to rebuild the organization I once led. Oh, and I also need the assurance that you will not come after me once the deal is cut. We are on the same side now, Lord Wydor, but you must hurry if you wish to get the satisfaction of destroying Elision yourselves. The Humans of Earth also know the location and I’m sure they’re preparing to launch their own fleet against the Kracori.”

Nigel frowned when he saw the Juirean Elder grin. That was not the reaction he was expecting.

“Mr. McCarthy – to use your formal prefix – I believe you have failed to keep abreast of galactic affairs, unlike we Juireans.”

“What do you mean; has something happened on Earth?”

“Indeed it has,” Wydor began. “The Juirean people ruled the galaxy for four-thousand years, and as such we are never without knowledge of events throughout the Expansion, and even within your tiny empire in the Far Arm. It seems that your planet has once again been attacked by the Kracori, yet this time with much better results. Even though your race has managed to minimalize the damage, the casualties should climb above a billion. In addition, your fleet is currently engaged in a war with another Far Arm race called the Jusepi, who appear to be in alliance with the Klin. So, Mr. McCarthy, even though they may know the location of Elision, your fellow Humans are in no position to act upon this information.”

Nigel thought quickly before responding. “Not now, maybe,” he countered. “Yet if the Kracori did as you say, then the Humans will have even more of an incentive to move against Elision. It’s just a matter of when … and that gives you the opportunity to launch your own strike before the Humans do.” He paused for effect. “So as I see it, this has only improved my negotiating position. My information would have no value if the Humans beat you to Elision.”

“And why would we not let the Humans attack Elision? Our enemy would be destroyed and we would have spent no effort in achieving that end result.”

Nigel leaned back in this seat and surveyed the faces of the other Juireans at the table. Alien faces were hard to read, and yet he could recognize hatred when he saw it. As Wydor had said, if there was one thing the Juireans hated more than him, it was the Kracori.

“And how would that go over with the Juirean population?” Nigel asked, desperately hoping this line of thinking would produce results. “Sure, the Kracori would be gone, but not by your hands. Your redemption, both in the eyes of your people, as well as the Expansion, will only come if you are the ones to destroy the Kracori. And just think of the humiliation you will suffer if it’s the Humans – of all people – who demonstrate the strength and resolve, when the Juireans have not? The Kracori savagely sacked your homeworld and drove you into exile—”

“It was to avoid the approaching Human fleet that we came here, McCarthy, so your race is just as culpable in our disgrace as are the Kracori.”

“Pardon me, My Lord … but bullshit,” Nigel said. “If the Humans had not driven the Kracori from Juir, then the Expansion would now be ruled by a coalition of Klin and Kracori, both of which are your mortal enemy. And do you think the Klin-Kracori alliance would have voluntarily relinquished control of the Expansion as the Humans did? Of course not! Eventually, the K’s would have grown strong enough to move against you here – and if I could find you, then surely they could, too. So, in reality, the Humans did you a favor.”

“And what makes you think we would even want to engage in such a major undertaking, even if we could? We have settled into this area of space quite well. Re-militarizing ourselves would involve a major effort on our part.”

Nigel smiled again. “Because you’re Juireans, that’s why. Your race unified and civilized two-thirds of the galaxy. You can’t fool me into believing that you are content with being non-players in the game.”

Nigel noticed the frowns on the faces of the Juireans as they fought through the translation. “You want to be in charge again,” Nigel stated, helping cut through the confusion “It’s your nature, your destiny. And destroying the Kracori will restore the honor and respect throughout the galaxy that you want and deserve. Destroying Elision could be the beginning of the new Juirean Resurrection.”

He hesitated as the Juireans remained quiet in thought. Finally he decided to go for the sale. “Lord Wydor, and other members of the Council, it’s time you put aside your hatred for me and look at the bigger picture. You are a proud and powerful race; you cannot remain hidden away here in some faraway corner the galaxy. I’m offering you a chance at redemption, a chance to regain you prior status. Let’s work together on this, and for the benefit of all. I ask little in return, yet what I offer is renewed Juirean dominance within the Expansion – and beyond.”

To his frustration, the Juireans still remained silent, but he dared not push the issue further. He had made his case, and it was a strong one, and the fact that he was still alive showed that the Juireans were at least somewhat interested in what he had to say. It was out of his hands now … and there would be no escaping this time. Either they would agree to his terms – or Nigel McCarthy would die.

Finally Wydor spoke. “The Council is a deliberative body; therefore, we will adjourn to contemplate your offer and negotiation. You will be placed in a secure location until a decision is rendered. Guards!”

Chapter 39

The secure location in which he was placed consisted of a suite of rooms within the stadium building; first-rate and obviously reserved for members of the Council Elite. As he explored the large apartment-like suite – even conjuring up a strong drink from the processor – Nigel kept reminding himself that with the Juireans discussing his offer it meant that his chances were better than average. He hadn’t really expected them to make a spontaneous decision, he only hoped they would. And now as the minutes passed, he was growing more confident in his chances – or was it the alcohol talking?

The only variable in the equation was whether they would go ahead and let the Humans destroy Elision, choosing instead to remain cloistered in their peaceful existence within this distant cluster of stars. The option would save them time, money and personnel – and Elision would still be destroyed.

He hoped he hadn’t misread Juirean nature, but how could he? They were the ones who initiated the outward movement from their beloved homeworld so many millennia ago, single-mindedly acquiring more and more territory until they ruled it all. That showed the Juireans had an innate sense of their own manifest destiny, and ten years as just another insignificant race among thousands wasn’t enough time to breed that instinctive trait out of them.

At least that’s what Nigel kept telling himself. He went to get another drink….

* * *

Elder Wydor remained in the vast chamber long after the Human was removed, discussing the situation with other members of the Council. Initial reactions ranged from a complete rejection of the offer and the immediate execution of the murderous alien, to a full-hearted desire to retake the Expansion, beginning with the destruction of Elision. Others wanted to let the Humans do all the hard work, allowing them to sacrifice their own personnel and resources to accomplish the goal. At that point, the Juireans would still be free to regain control of the Expansion – if they so desired.

Wydor had the most-personal connection to the events surrounding the crimes of Nigel McCarthy, having been present at the time of Hydon’s abduction. And yet he was also the Elder of the Council Elite, and as such was responsible for an entire race of beings. He had to view every decision dispassionately – and to his frustration – much of the Human’s argument had been true.

When the Juireans had first retreated – not only from Juir but from the entire Expansion – they had breathed a collective sigh of relief that the responsibility of governing now fell to others. They looked back over their history and saw the flaws of the system they had built and the toll it had taken on them as a race. To the masses, this time away from power was to be a time to recover, to reevaluate how the Juireans lived and interacted with one another.

Yet Wydor was now noticing a shift in attitude. So many of his kind had struggled to equate their surrendering of the Expansion with the time the Juireans withdrew from the First Empire and returned to the core worlds. Three hundred years later, their ancestors had reemerged, a stronger, more-focused race, and began the formation of The Expansion.

Yet that retreat – if one were to even call it that – had been voluntary; this current one was not. And now his people were growing restless – as was he.

The Juireans still numbered close to two billion individuals, and their fleet consisted of over five-thousand ships of war, making them still one of the most formidable forces in the galaxy. By remaining here in the Valicem Cluster, many believed the Juireans were not realizing their full potential.

As the debate within the chamber began to swing more in favor of accepting the Human’s offer, there began a further discussion as to the ultimate future of the Juirean race. Many in the Council now sought a return to power within the Expansion. Wydor and the other members of the Council were fully aware of the dismal state of the Expansion at the time. The Silean Administrator Kroekus had done his best, yet without a strong central power to reign in the more rebellious factions, the Expansion was rapidly disintegrating. The Council found this to be especially disturbing. The Juireans had created and built the Expansion, and now it was fated to disappear – without action of their part.

The Juireans could save the Expansion, while at the same time regaining their rightful place at its head. And eliminating the Kracori – in a very bold and public display of Juirean power – would be the catalyst for that return.

Yet, as Nigel McCarthy had intimated, they would have to act before the Humans.

Wydor grimaced as the final vote was taken; the killer of his friend and mentor was about to be rewarded with all he requested. It didn’t seem fair, yet the decision was best for the Juirean people as a whole.

The Elder supported the will of the Council, and even though the Human would believe he had won, Wydor would not rest until Hydon Ra Elys was avenged.

So the last topic before the meeting was adjourned was how the Juireans would betray the Human Nigel McCarthy, while still securing the Elision coordinates….

Chapter 40

Nigel McCarthy…

Nigel McCarthy was beyond ecstatic. Nineteen hours before, he had slaved the four Class-4’s he’d finagled out of the Juireans to the controls of the single Class-5, and now with the equivalent of fifty-billion credits – that’s right, fifty billion – secure in the ship’s hold, Nigel McCarthy was master of his domain and rapidly speeding away from Juirean space.

He had bested the former rulers of the galaxy, while providing himself with more wealth than any single being had ever acquired in the history of the Milky Way – even greater than that fat slob, Kroekus.

Once he was firmly ensconced in one of the major space-lanes of the galaxy, Nigel cranked up the speed and sent a CW-link to the Juirean Council. The coordinates he sent were true – after all, he, too, would really like to see the nasty Kracori race destroyed – yet he also knew it would take time for the Juireans to verify the information.

McCarthy had no illusions that the Juireans would actually keep their word not to come after him, yet the head start he had would allow him time to effectively disappear. After that, he would have all the time in the world to plan his next major move against a stinking alien universe.

* * *

Elder Wydor was notified the moment the coordinates were received, and as he studied the datapad, it was as he had suspected: the Juddle Nebula. Ever since the mysterious Kracori had surfaced as allies of the hated Klin, the Juireans had sought to locate their hidden homeworld. Yet with four-thousand years of galactic exploration behind them – along with all corresponding charts and data – it wasn’t a matter of locating an unknown planet, but rather verifying that a world they had catalogued as being of one identity was in reality that of the planet Elision.

The verification process took a total of forty-two standard minutes and was accomplished without sending any live assets to the region.

Wydor made what was essentially a Juirean smile when he thought how the traitorous Human Nigel McCarthy believed he had time to escape before the Juireans were secure with the coordinates. Now that they were confirmed, McCarthy was expendable. The spaceships and credits were insignificant to the Juireans, so their loss would mean nothing – if it came down to that. However, the death of Nigel McCarthy would bring immense satisfaction to the Elder.

He sent the command, and the agents hidden aboard the Class-5 would now be activated. Wydor nodded as he internally congratulated himself on the plan he’d devised. The foolish Human – he even thought his special device would save him. Little did he know the Juireans were quite aware of the Formilian telepathy technology; in fact thousands of years ago they had assisted in its development.

The Human’s fate was sealed. He would be captured and returned to Wydor for disposal in a most satisfying manner – for Wydor at least. Or the explosives hidden within the tiny fleet would be detonated.

Wydor truly hoped McCarthy could be taken alive. He would gain such joy is seeing the face of the ugly Human again … knowing his fate was held within the hands of Wydor bin Sulic. Yes, please take him alive.

* * *

The medallion Nigel McCarthy wore around his neck was a pale imitation to the device the Formilian Speaker had imbedded in her body. Nigel knew this, yet he did know his unit was capable of many simple functions that still put him light-years ahead of someone without such a device.

And one of the most basic of these functions was the detection of flash weapons within his range. Energy weapons gave off a distinctive signature, and his medallion was programmed to alert him any time such a weapon was near.

Nigel was in the ship’s lounge area – a voluminous chamber aboard the huge starship, originally designed to accommodate up to a couple of hundred beings at a time. Its size and emptiness bothered him, so as to not be so overwhelmed by the room itself, Nigel had placed a cluster of couches and chairs off in a far corner and created a small enclave he called his own. He felt more comfortable, more secure, within the smaller space.

It was while cozied up in a large chair and entering scenarios for galactic domination into a datapad on his lap, that Nigel detected the activation of six flash weapons within the range of his telepathy device. The alert was startling and sent the former British SAS officer into immediate action.

The bloody Juireans! It had only been an hour since he’d sent the Elision coordinates. How could they have verified them so quickly? It didn’t matter; somehow they had, and now he was expendable.

Nigel had expected the Juireans to launch some sort of action against him; he just hadn’t expected it to occur so soon. So they’ve placed assassins aboard. What these bloody bastards don’t know is that I’ll be ready for them.

He followed the weapon’s trace deeper into the massive ship, down four levels and to the cargo bay. The six targets were now in a room just off the main chamber, probably planning their assault against him. They would be unaware that he was already in position to strike.

He had armed himself with a Xan-Fi flash rifle, along with his omnipresent black-handled commando knife strapped to his calf. This should be easy….

He approached the door to the room while hugging a side wall, flash rifle held high against his chest. There was light coming from inside, visible through a small window set in the door. Nigel did a quick peak inside; there was a stack of gear bags on the table, and two of the flash weapons next to them. He didn’t see any of the assassins, but that didn’t mean they weren’t inside. He reached down toward the depression in the door that served as a handle; he tensed and prepared for entry—

Just then three sharp pains erupted from his right shoulder and chest; when he looked down, he saw a trio of silver darts stuck in his shirt. Since he wasn’t wearing a flak vest or other type of protection, he knew the projectiles had penetrated his skin.

Nigel ran past the door to the storage room and dove behind a stack of crates before more darts could find their target. The fact that his assailants were using non-lethal weapons meant they intend to take him alive – and they had also used the signature of the flash weapons to lure him to the cargo hold. This raised a whole new set of scenarios.

So, the Juireans were aware of the capabilities of his medallion. He should’ve known better not to underestimate the bloody bastards; they didn’t get to their position in the galaxy by being stupid.

He pulled the darts from his skin and lifted one to his nose. He could pick up the slight trace of a medicinal smell, but had no way of knowing what kind of drug the darts had been laced with. Could the Juireans know what was necessary to take down a Human? Again, he had to assume they did.

Just then he noticed a slight blurring of his peripheral vision as the drug began to circulate within his body. He tried to calm his heartbeat, but it wasn’t easy. An adrenalin shot would help counter the effects of the drug, yet he was aboard an alien spacecraft, and even if he were able to make it to a medical station, he had no way of reading labels written in Juirean.

He needed time to think – and for the drug to wear off – but we was sure the agents would not give him the opportunity. Already he could hear the shuffling of heavy feet on the metal deck as they closed on his position.

It was a good bet these agents were not Juireans; the gravity aboard the ship would be too high for them to operate effectively. So these would be heavy-worlders; strong yet slow if the trend held true. After all, what set Humans and Kracori apart from the rest of the galaxy was that they were both swift and agile within their native gravities. He quickly thought of a way to slow the lumbering beasts down even more – even though he would be affected as well.

He reached out with his medallion and located the gravity control for this section of the ship, and with a mental command cranked it up to four times the current level.

Besides the creaking of the walls and deck around him, along with the collapsing of fragile shelving not built to withstand such force, Nigel could hear faint moaning within the room coming from living creatures. He was himself compressed on the deck, his muscles now having to accommodate his over eight-hundred pound weight. He lay back on the deck and closed his eyes, struggling to breathe and feeling the effects of the drug now consume most of his senses. The drug would actually help him by saving his body from the pain associated with the heavier gravity.

He would rest now, calming his heart rate as best he could and hoping the aliens in the room would be equally handicapped. All he needed were a few minutes to let the drug do its worse before allowing his body to recover. Just a little time was all he needed….

He managed not to lose consciousness entirely, and so he was aware of the groans coming from the fatigued aliens. One in particular was extremely pronounced and originated from across the huge cargo hold. This was near where the gravity controls were located, and Nigel knew one of his assailants was attempting to reach the controls. The creature was having a hard time of it, and Nigel was still able to retain enough awareness through his medallion that he knew he could counter any action should the alien reach the control panel. At least he could if he remained conscious.

The drug was now affecting all his muscles and not just his eyesight. He was becoming stiff and unable to move even his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he had taken an adequate dose of the drug to achieve the alien’s desired effect, or if it was a just combination of the drug and the gravity that was limiting his movements. He just hoped the aliens wouldn’t be able to reach him. If they did, he would be defenseless and vulnerable.

He had trouble keeping track of time, as he was sure now that he had lapsed into unconsciousness briefly from time to time as he lay on the deck. But then he became aware of a tingling in his extremities. He could now move his toes and his fingers – his senses were returning!

Another few minutes passed and his vision began to clear. Still the oppressive gravity held him captive to floor. He struggled to roll over, and was rewarded with a clearing of his head. He discarded the heavy flash rifle and began to crawl across the deck, zeroing in on the nearest moaning that still could be heard in the cargo bay.

In his distant past on back on Earth, Nigel McCarthy had experienced his share of 4G rides in various RAF aircraft. This wasn’t too hard to tolerate for brief periods, at least not while sitting in the cockpit of a fighter jet and wearing a pressure suit. But now he had suffered the crippling weight for an extended period of time – how long he had no idea. But still he crawled, hand over hand, leg after leg, to make his way an undetermined distance and seek out an unknown enemy. He had to find out what he was up against.

In his younger days, this exercise would not have been too difficult, but now he was almost fifty and had let his physical condition wane over the past few years. Yet still he managed to crawl around the crates and across a still-hidden section of deck toward the closest moaning sound.

Behind a cluster of propellant barrels, Nigel found a dark brown creature pressed against the floor. The alien was shaped like a long salamander with four very thick legs and two stubby arms projecting from the front torso. The beast’s head was large and scaly with a bony carapace Nigel knew his commando blade would have trouble penetrating.

The alien spotted him with his yellow eyes and attempted to lift his dart gun in Nigel’s direction. It was obvious the creature was in terrible pain, and before the weapon could be properly aimed, McCarthy reached him. The struggle that ensued was awkward and almost comical in a way, yet Nigel still managed to turn the long creature over onto its back, exposing the soft underbelly of the alien. He pulled his knife from its sheath and proceeded to eviscerate the hapless being by slicing it open from groin to neck.

McCarthy found himself covered in the red blood of the beast, mixed with dark green innards with a strong, putrid odor. Combined with the chemicals still present in his body, and the overpowering stench of the alien insides wafting up from the floor, Nigel didn’t even resist the urge to vomit. He let loose with heavy surge after surge that joined with the disgusting concoction already covering the deck and making for a smell that defied description.

However, the purging of his stomach did help to counter even more of the effects of the drug, and Nigel felt much better afterwards. He reached out with his awareness and reduced the gravity level to a mere twice that of Earth normal. The sudden drop in his weight from eight hundred pounds to only four hundred, gave him a sudden surge of energy and strength that allowed him to stand and lumber his way toward the location where he’d heard other moaning before.

It wasn’t long before he happened upon a second salamander-like alien. This creature was experiencing the same surge of relief from the lessened gravity, but this is where the quickness of a Human had its advantages. Nigel reactions were much faster than the alien’s, and he was able to strike out with his knife and slashed the tender neck of the creature before it could sound an alarm or lift its squatty arms in defense.

His attacker fell the short distance it had to go to reach the floor, while gurgling sounds escaped from its severed throat.

Nigel had to assume that since he was lured to the cargo hold by six flash weapons that his assailants numbered six in total, and if this were true, then he still had four of the beasts to locate and dispatch. He now regretted leaving the heavy flash rifle behind – yet he did know where at least two others were located: in the decoy room about fifty feet to his right.

He stood and braced himself against a cold metal bulkhead – and then with a command through his medallion, he cut all the gravity to the rear section of the Class-5 starship.

Now free of the restraints of gravity, Nigel kicked off the bulkhead and flew across the room. He slammed into the door to the side room and quickly activated the controls that caused the panel to slide open. He pulled himself inside just as two metal darts ricocheted around him.

He grabbed both of the MK-17 flash handguns from the table as he drifted by and then kicked off the rear bulkhead of the room and was sent flying back out into the vast expanse of the cargo hold. He soared high above the floor and up to a vantage point where he could easily see the four other brown aliens flailing about in the zero gravity. These creatures were not built for maneuvering in weightlessness, and their long bodies only served to send them twisting in the air with each turn of their torsos. Still, they were each armed with a dart gun, and they did their best to lock onto Nigel’s now distant figure near the ceiling of the room.

McCarthy braced himself against an upper support and aimed the MK he held in his right hand. Two Level-2 blue and white bolts shot from the barrel and toward one of the aliens below. The first one missed, but not the second. The white-hot ball of energy didn’t kill the alien, but it did cause him immense pain as evidenced by the primal scream now filling the chamber. Nigel flicked the bolt level up to Level-1 and fired again. This time the bolt penetrated the thick skin of the alien and the screaming stopped.

The other three agents were gyrating in wild movements, attempting to literally swim in the air of the cargo hold. Nigel took aim with the second weapon and one-shot, one-kill later his remaining opponents now numbered only two.

While he was occupied with trying to lock his aim on the next alien, Nigel’s medallion detected an energy surge from below. Looking around, he noticed that the final alien had withdrawn an electronic device from his uniform and had powered up the unit.

A dart hit the ceiling near him; Nigel turned his attention back to the other alien and with another accurate shot from the MK, sent this one to whatever these salamanders had for a heaven.

The last agent now hid behind a heavy-equipment loader, yet the electronic device he was operating gave away his location. Nigel kicked from the ceiling and drifted down toward the loader. He kept the last MK held firmly in his grip and aimed at where the alien was hiding. In his zero-gravity freefall, this was when he was the most vulnerable.

The alien stayed hidden and Nigel was able to reach out with his free hand and pull his body down to the deck behind the loader. The alien saw him drop down a few feet away, and yet he continued to enter data into the device rather than pulling his dart gun.

Nigel slammed into the beast, knocking the device from his hand.

“What did you just do? What was that device?”

Normal gravity suddenly returned to the room, and without skipping a beat, Nigel stepped forward and shoved the barrel of the MK against the alien’s forehead.

“Talk, dammit!”

“Our orders were to capture you and bring you back to Lord Wydor.”

Nigel sensed something unsaid. “And having failed at that ….?”

“I just sent a message to the Council.”

“Go on; what do they think they can do from…?” It seemed as though all the blood rushed from his head; the alien verified his worst nightmare.

“If we could not take you alive, then the Juireans will detonate the bombs that are aboard the ships.” Even though most defeated beings, when faced with a scenario such as this, would revel in the shock that crossed Nigel’s face, this creature only showed concern. He was not about to gloat, not when his own life was about to be end – along with Nigel’s.

“How much time?” Nigel shoved the barrel of the handgun even harder against the alien’s head.

“I do not know. That was a CW-link sent through your ship’s system. The Juireans are receiving it now. It will be they who activate the destruct.”

Anger flared in Nigel, and he reeled back with the MK before sending it crashing into the skull of the alien, nearly splitting it in half and sending even more muck and brain matter into the room.

McCarthy rushed out of the cargo hold and into the hangar bay immediately adjacent the cargo hold. His Exitor had been loaded aboard – you can never have too many starships was McCarthy’s motto – and using the medallion, the side port hatch was open and waiting for him by the time he arrived. The generators were charging and the doors to the bay were already opening by the time he reached the pilothouse.

His ship began to screech toward the every-widening gap in the hangar doors as the atmosphere was sucked out and into space, taking everything in the landing bay with it. But Nigel didn’t wait to be sucked out; instead he initiated a shallow gravity-well while still inside the hangar bay.

The effect was amazing. The whole rear section of the mighty Class-5 warship suddenly disappeared, having been swallowed by the blackhole created a mile beyond the hangar doors, and Nigel found himself suddenly clear of the warcraft and in a cloud of trailing debris that had once been the aft section of the Class-5 starship.

Just then the Exitor was hit by a staggeringly-powerful shockwave created by the exploding Class-4’s around him. Nigel was slammed back in his chair as the small craft was jolted forward, riding the shockwave. Lights flickered and then went out. Having no time to secure his safety harness, Nigel was suddenly flying forward, leaving the pilot seat and crashing his head into the forward display.

Everything went dark, and suddenly he found that he didn’t care about a goddamn thing anymore. Nothing. Anymore. In the moment before losing consciousness, Nigel felt the most-incredible calmness from within, and in his blurry grayness of thought and vision, Nigel believed he’s finally found the peace and tranquility that had forever evaded him.

* * *

Nigel’s blissful state of unconsciousness didn’t last long, and when reality returned he felt a sick hollowness permeating his well-being.

It was all gone; the money, his ships, everything. He was now right back where he’d started; one ship … and penniless. Yet what made this reality so different from the one just before was that for a few brief hours he had actually been the richest damn bastard in the entire galaxy! Now it was all gone – again. He had nothing, nothing but….

Nigel smiled out at the vast blackness of space revealing itself through the viewport of the Exitor; it was not a smile of joy, but one of wry cleverness.

He did possess one last thing of value – he always seemed to have this, and it could possibly save him, again.

He had information to sell. He had used information to gain his freedom from Cain’s henchmen. And he’d used information to briefly get the upper-hand with the backstabbing Juireans. Now he had another morsel of information that he just might be able to peddle. And he knew just the person who might be grateful to receive it.

He set a course for the planet Juir.

Chapter 41

With the Human Fleet near Duelux…

General Alan Larson stared at the faces of the other officers in the wardroom and knew the feeling was unanimous. It wasn’t hard to discern; they were all disgusted and frustrated. The trap had been set – and they had stepped right into it.

“The question now is how do we proceed?” the General stated, his gravelly voice more pronounced than normal from all the yelling he’d done behind closed doors just prior to the start of the staff meeting. “We are a month – at least – away from Earth, so for the time being, we can render it no assistance – and that is assuming we forget about the Jusepi threat and head straight home.”

“Can we even do that, General?” asked his second-in-command, Admiral Brian Sears. “Our mission is to destroy the Jusepi forces, and like it or not, that threat is real, if seemingly insignificant now in light of the Kracori attack on Earth.”

“Exactly, Brian,” Larson said. “All the intel indicates that the Klin are assisting the Jusepi and that the timing of the revolt was not random. Any time the Klin and Kracori start working together, you know it’s serious. And now they have a third ally, which makes the Jusepi just as dangerous.”

“General, my analysts estimate that our campaign against the Jusepi could take up to six months or more.” Commander Len Smith looked up from his data pad. “With the failure of the Kracori attack on Earth, that just gives them more time to prepare for our inevitable response.”

Larson nodded. “They’ll know we’re coming, and that’s for sure. And if you factor in transit time, we could be looking at a year or more before striking Elision. That’s too much time to give an enemy to prepare.”

“What about the Cain gravity-drive?” This came from the Chief Engineer, Captain Owen Crist. “A refit of the fleet could mean reaching Elision in a month, rather than six.”

“That’s an option, Captain, but it would require our return to Earth, plus the time to refit the fleet. The planet’s pretty torn up; I’m hoping most of our industrial capacity is still intact.”

“It is General, at least what would be needed for the refit.”

“And the Jusepi?” Commander Smith asked.

General Larson looked away from the table for a long moment and gathered his thoughts. He turned back to his senior staff. “We have three options as I see them. One, we cut and head back to Earth now, refit the fleet with the new drives and then head for Elision. Estimated time would be a month back to Earth, refit in three to four and then one-month’s transit to Elision. Five to six months total. The next option is to leave now for Elision, giving the Kracori less time to prepare for our attack. Transit time on conventional drive: approximately six months. And the third is we spend six months mopping up the Jusepi problem, and then head to Elision directly or via Earth for the refit. That would take a year.”

“I think that last option is unacceptable General,” Admiral Sears stated. “Yet on the other hand, we can’t leave the Jusepi free to wander the Arm. With the fleet gone to Elision, the Klin may help them get all the way to Earth.”

“There is a forth option, General,” said Colonel Hayward McMaster, the fleet’s operations officer. “There’s no question of our victory against the Jusepi, only when, and it’s obvious that the Klin have advised them to disperse their small fleet to make it harder on us to track them down. This will prolong our campaign, as the strategy was designed to do.

“Now this may not be pretty and may go against our definition of humanity, but I say we attack the Jusepi homeworld of Duelux directly. Hit them hard and make them pay for their association with the K’s. This may not have the effect of drawing their fleet home to face us, but it may stop any further movements by their units into the Arm.”

Larson raised an eyebrow. “We’d be striking civilians, Mac. Is that really what we want to be known for?”

McMaster’s face turned beet-red. “Pardon me, General, but screw alien bastards! We have over half-a-billion dead back on Earth, and with a billion more waiting to suffer a slow, agonizing death from radiation poisoning and various cancers. These aliens were involved in the plot, and they’re keeping us from going after the Kracori, something that’s being done by design. We shouldn’t play their game any longer, sir.”

General Larson smiled at his visibly-agitated junior officer. “Oh don’t get me wrong, Mac, I wasn’t being critical or even politically-correct.” He looked around at the faces at the table. “Personally, I like the idea and I think the rest of us concur.” There were nods of agreement around the table. “Since the beginning of the entire Human-Alien interaction over a decade ago, we have been the victim of numerous assaults, even when we are trying to mind our own business. I say it’s time for the Human race to exert itself. We responded to the Juirean attack by conquering their empire … and then we gave it up. That was understandable at the time because we were trying to play nice with the aliens, and they didn’t respect us for it. The same happened with the Jusepi. We didn’t conquer them; we came in peace and to make them part of a larger universe. And they reward us by siding with the K’s and helping them to implement their sneak attack on the Earth. Just think, if the Kracori had succeeded as planned, we’d be a fleet without a home, and instead of one-billion to two-billion dead, there’d be six.”

He paused and took a visual vote around the table. He didn’t ask the officers to verbally express their vote since he was the head of the fleet and therefore had ultimate command authority – and responsibility. Even then, he could tell the vote was unanimous.

“Here’s the plan, gentlemen,” he began in a slow, deep cadence. “We will proceed to Duelux and rain fire down upon the surface. If their units choose to come to the planet’s defense, we will destroy them without mercy. Following our strike, we’ll proceed to Earth at best possible speed. Once refitted with the Cain drives, we will depart for Elision. The total time may be the same as if we leave now and head straight for Elision, yet I would rather be in Kracori space with the new drives installed than without them.” Then he smiled; something rare for the beast of a senior flag officer. “Besides, once we’re in Kracori space, we may find more targets worth taking out. Someone has been assisting the Kracori in the nebula. It’s about time some lessons were taught to these aliens.”

Admiral Sears smiled back at his superior officer. “And what lesson might that be, General?”

“Simple: Don’t mess with the Humans!”

Chapter 42

On the planet Duelux…

Twelve hours later, the Human fleet entered the Duelux system. It was met with a meager resistance and proceeded in-system.

Senior Tribe Representative Dormic Furkril was in his office in the huge Symbiotic Trade Building across the vast parade field from the ruins of the Human consulate complex. He had received advanced word of the Human fleet’s arrival in the system a few hours before and had placed a frantic link to his Klin representative, an alien named Drlin Simmlo. Drlin arrived two hours later.

“You must trust the Klin, Furkril. We have studied the Humans for centuries. They are only coming here to negotiate a peace with the Jusepi. As long as your forces are located far from Duelux, no harm will come to your civilian population.”

“But they destroyed the sentries!” Furkril yelled. “And now I have four-thousand warships about to arrive and with absolutely no defense against them.”

The Klin was silent for a moment before he flipped his wrist and began to rise from the chair. “Then surrender. That will avoid any impending attack. The Humans are great believers in surrender as a tactic.”

Furkril’s ears plastered themselves against his skull. He couldn’t believe the cavalier response the Klin had just given. “Surrender … we can’t surrender. And you said the Klin and the Kracori would be here to support us to the end. I have not seen any new ships from the Klin in over four months, and I have no knowledge of a Kracori ever setting foot upon my planet.”

“Plans are amended, Furkril.”

“Because the Kracori attack failed? Yes, I have heard of the attack on Earth, and when I consider the timing of that attack and our own revolt, I do not believe it to be a coincidence. You planned the Earth attack to occur after their fleet was sent here, against us!”

“The Jusepi are now allies with the Klin and the Kracori. Our plan is your plan. Once we win this war with the Humans, then the Jusepi will also benefit.”

“But you want us to surrender! How is that being an ally? I see us now as more of a distraction. However, the Humans must now see us as complicit in the Kracori attack; that is why they are coming here instead pursuing our starships.”

“Trust the Klin, Furkril. Make contact with the Humans and inform them of your desire to end hostilities. Humans do not want to fight. They will if required, but not unless they are forced into it. They will welcome your overture, especially if it means civilian lives will be spared.”

* * *

But they did not. Instead the Humans summarily rejected the Jusepi offer of surrender, and now Furkril was hidden under the heavy wooden protection of his office desk, as explosions rocked the city of Morsbog. Simmlo had somehow slipped out of the office without being seen, and now the would-be Jusepi leader was alone and cowering in fear.

A massive explosion rocked the parade field outside his office, sending shards of shattered glass flying into the room. Several of the fragments found his left arm and leg and he cried out in pain. He knew the desk offered no real protection, not if the entire building came down on top of him.

He cursed the lying Klin. The Human commander had informed Furkril in no uncertain terms that there would be no cease-fire and his offer of surrender would not be accepted. The Human seemed to revel in Furkril’s anguish. He mentioned something about a return of principal resembling a female canine, and then laughed after saying it. Payback is a bitch? It made no sense, but Furkril didn’t spend much time trying to decipher the Human’s meaning – not when the ground around his building suddenly erupted with even more massive explosions.

Just then the left side of his office collapsed in on him, crushing the desk and pinning him under it, a sharp piece of splintered wood penetrating the back of his shoulder. He tried to reach the splinter yet it was just out of his reach.

Another explosion thundered throughout the building; Furkril could hear his death approaching, as floor after floor above him pancaked down on the one below. “Damn those lying Klin!” were his last words, just as the ceiling of his office raced to become one with the floor….

Chapter 43

David Charlton…

Should he tell someone about his collusion with the Klin or keep it a secret? In one way he felt horrible knowing that he had played a part in the evil plan perpetrated by the Klin and the Kracori. He had sent the fleet away, allowing for an unobstructed path to the Earth. His Klin handlers knew this was coming, yet they did nothing to warn him personally, fully expecting him to be one of the billions of casualties of the Kracori attack.

Then a sickening thought hit him: They probably won’t even pay me the gold! Maybe they never intended to pay in the first place. And why would they? They could have promised him a trillion dollars for that matter knowing he wouldn’t live long enough to receive it.

Even though he knew he was insulated from exposure – after all, the plan to send the fleet to Duelux was a good one and voted on by the Council – he still felt as if someone was going to find out. But how could they? Hell, he was one of the three leaders of the entire Human race; who would believe he – of all people – had assisted in its near-destruction.

That bastard Cain had said the Kracori fleet commander told of a manipulation of the vote to send the fleet, and General Russell Blake knew that David had fought hard for sending their forces – all of their forces – to Duelux. They had even met earlier the day of the Council vote to discuss David’s objectives for the meeting. Would Blake suspect it was he who had been in contact with the enemy, that it was he who had been the manipulator?

In one way, he was now relieved that the money would not appear in his account. He might be questioned about such a large sum showing up from an unknown source, even on a distant alien world. In a world of conspiracies, it wouldn’t take much to connect the dots.

No, he would stay quiet, and if the Klin attempt to contact him again he will tell them no.

But what if they threatened to expose him?

David Charlton had just turned sixty-five, and even though he worked out every day and watched his diet, he still felt as though his heart was about to explode. He moved over to the long leather sofa in the office – the same sofa he had laid upon not more than a month-and-a-half ago, congratulating himself on the completion of the Klin assignment. Back then it was just about the money; he couldn’t see how what they asked would cause harm. Now he knew better.

Sweat covered his brow and his hands shook visibly. He laughed, which helped to bring down his blood pressure. If only I could have a heart attack … then I wouldn’t have to live with this guilt.

No other person was present to hear his silent prayer, so no debate would follow the events of the next five minutes. All that would be said was that David Charlton, Representative of the People, was found dead in his office later that day – yet not from a heart attack, but from a massive cerebral hemorrhage.

Chapter 44

Ruszel and Canos…

“But what if the Kracori is correct?”

Canos paced the small common room of the newly christened Camora – meaning lifesong in the Tel’oran language – and formerly the Human vessel Ifrit.

Ruszel was seated on one of the small couches in the room, holding a strong Tel’oran intoxicant in his hand. They were nine days on the Guild side of the Shield and still debating whether or not to grant the unfortunate Human his final favor.

Ruszel had to admit the Kracori speech did make sense and he had been moved by it. The Kracori and the Tel’or had both been born of the Nebula; it was the Humans who were the Outers. And if there was one thing the races of the Nebula distrusted above all else, it was Outers. And yet Ruszel had promised he would comply with Riyad’s wishes. And in a very direct way, the Human had saved their lives.

“Yet he placed us in that situation to begin with, and through deception.” Canos had argued earlier. “We shouldn’t then forgive him when he saves us from the very circumstance he created.”

The debate had continued unabated for hours and then over days, until Ruszel finally had to make a decision.

“Our affiliation with the Human may have begun with devious intent, yet you have to understand his motivation. You know his world was attacked in the past by the Kracori, and he was serving as simply a soldier doing his duty. The two races are at war, and now we must decide which side is worthy of our support.”

“Precisely, Ruszel, and I say the Nebula should take priority.”

“As do I, but does that necessarily mean siding with the Kracori? They may be of the Nebula, yet they have remained hidden in the Void and refused to interact with the Guild in any meaningful way. And why is that? Do they feel us to be inferior to them, since they are the ones who united with the Klin to assume control of the Expansion?”

“Yet the Humans stopped them,” Canos said. “I can understand why the Kracori would hate them so.”

“But does that mean we must hate the Humans as well?”

“And what of the comments Riyad made in reference to us just before he was taken away? He called us spineless!”

“I believe that was part of the deception, the deception used to save our lives.”

“You may be right,” the young Tel’oran finally admitted. “But should we be involved? The clash between these two mighty races will occur no matter our actions this day.”

“Yet I granted Riyad this favor. It is a minor distraction from our day; simply a communication and a few sentences.” With his arm, Ruszel indicated the room around them. “And he has provided us with wealth and this ship. He did not need to do this. Canos, I believe this Human, this Riyad Tarazi, actually had affection for us.”

Canos nodded. “I agree. It did appear so.”

“Then let us grant the favor, and make the link. Then it will be as Riyad said: we can live our lives without guilt.”

“I will align the array, Ruszel,” Canos said, lifting himself from his chair. “Let us do this favor quickly then, for the walking-dead that is Riyad Tarazi.”

* * *

Arieel Bol, Speaker of the Formilian People, The High Celebrant, the Giver of Life and Light, the direct channel between the great gods of electricity Mislin and Sufor, was beside herself with sorrow.

Even though she and Adam Cain had apparently enjoyed the recent action concerning the Kracori invaders, she was now beginning to realize the terrible price the game had cost the Humans. She could relate to numbers as big as a billion souls. Her own Order was large and her followers numbered in the many of billions. She could only imagine how she would feel if so many of her own people perished in such a cruel and agonizing manner.

The threat from the neighboring Omphly Federation was constant, and she could see them taking the same action one day against her own Coalition. And now her sorrow was magnified, made worse because she had not been of more help.

And then there was Adam Cain.

She could not understand the strange feelings she had toward the scrawny Human. After all, Formilian males where much more virile and refined in features than the Human, and even though she knew the Humans to be much stronger and faster in battle than her Formilian males, those traits were not apparent physically.

Yet still she was attracted to the yellow-haired alien.

Arieel had already ordered constant shipments of needed supplies and materials to be sent to Earth. Even though they had not requested her assistance, she was going to provide it nonetheless.

It was while cloistered within her inner chambers, confused and frustrated by the emotions she was experiencing, that Second Celebrant Trimen O’lac entered her chambers without announcement.

“Forgive the intrusion, My Speaker, but a strange message has been received that requires your attention.”

‘From whom does it originate?”

“That is what is so strange; it originates from a starship pilot within a region of space called the Juddle Nebula. He has asked to speak with you directly.”

Arieel waved her hand dismissively. “Reject the summons. I do not speak with common beings from a region of space I have never heard of before.”

“He mentioned the name of Adam Cain.”

Arieel froze, as her pulse suddenly jumped to twice its normal rate. “He evoked Adam Cain?”

“Yes, My Speaker. He says he has a message he wishes you to convey to Mr. Cain.”

Arieel was up and through the wide opening to her chambers before Trimen could react. He raced to catch up with her.

“You can link in the security office,” Trimen called after her, but she was already pulling open the door and entering the complex of offices which housed her intimate security detail. A CW station was located within the offices, designed to provide her guards with instant communications should a crisis strike the Coalition or the Speaker herself.

A young and tanned technician cleared his seat for the Speaker. Trimen then nodded to the tech and the image of Ruszel Crin appeared on the screen.

“What is this message you have concerning Adam Cain,” Arieel demanded of the scaly green creature.

“Are you Arieel Bol?”

Arieel buried her chin in her neck. “I am Speaker Arieel Bol, the High Celebrant. And who are you?”

The alien on the screen seemed unimpressed by Arieel’s proclamation. “I am Ruszel Crin, a senior pilot for the Silvean Trade Guild. My associate and I have just spent the past few weeks working with a Human named Riyad Tarazi, and he has requested that I contact you with a message for Adam Cain.”

Arieel knew Riyad Tarazi. She had met him on Pyrum-3, at the celebration honoring her rescue through the efforts of Adam Cain. She suddenly forgot all the difference in status between her and the alien Ruszel Crin. “Yes, I know Riyad Tarazi. Why is he not delivering this message personally?”

“He has been taken captive by the Kracori. They intend to torture him and sustain his life to make him suffer even more. Then they plan to make an example of him as the Human force arrives at Elision. It is a tragic happenstance. My associate and I had grown fond of the Human.”

“That is truly disturbing news. Now, what is this message you have for Adam Cain?”

“Riyad wishes him to know that the coordinates for the Kracori homeworld are accurate. I should also inform you that the planet Elision is located within a vast region of the Silvean Nebula called the Dysion Void, which is itself surrounded by a cloud of dust and debris called the Dysion Shield. Penetrating the Shield with vast numbers of starships could prove problematic.”

“I thought you were from the Juddle Nebula?”

The green alien wrinkled his wide nose. “That is what Outers call the Silvean Nebula. I will never understand where that name originated.”

“Thank you for clarifying. Now is there anything further Riyad Tarazi wishes me to convey to Adam Cain?”

“Nothing personally, yet I wish to express my own sorrow for the future that awaits Riyad. We in the Nebula do not know where the exact truth may lie concerning the true nature of his race, but from what we have experienced, they can be both compassionate and cruel.”

“Ruszel Crin, the Humans are not the evil they have been made out to be. To that I can personally attest.”

“That is comforting, Speaker Arieel Bol,” Ruszel said as he concluded his transmission. “We are inclined to accept that assessment as well.”

Chapter 45

Adam Cain…

Arieel didn’t bother with establishing a link with the Earth and then tracking down Adam by conventional means. Instead she hitched a ride on an already-existing CW-link with the planet, and then after a quick scan, found Adam’s ATD within a minute of breaking the link with Ruszel.

It was his turn to be roused from a deep sleep.

Adam! When he allowed the link, Arieel’s mental voice came through like a shout.

What the …? Calm down Arieel. What’s going on?

It’s Riyad Tarazi, he has been captured by the Kracori, yet he managed to enlist the services of an alien from the region to transmit his final message.

He’s dead?

No, he is still alive. I said he was captured. This was his final message before his capture.

Adam sat up in the bed, feeling Sherri rustle next to him. Since the conversation with Arieel was through telepathy, he could let her sleep. What’s the message?

The coordinates to Elision are accurate. The Kracori are located in a void area of the Juddle – or Silvean – Nebula within a region surrounded by the Dysion Shield. The alien says this shield will be very difficult for your ships to penetrate.

Thank you, Arieel. This information is extremely helpful. The fleet will now start making final plans and preparations for attacking Elision. Now tell me more about Riyad. How do you know he’s still alive and hasn’t already been killed?

The alien said the Kracori intend to torture him and use him as an example as your forces commence their attack.

So he’s still alive and somewhere on Elision?

That is my understanding, Adam.

Adam’s mind was exploding with conflicting emotions. On the one hand they now had confirmation of the McCarthy Coordinates; on the other Riyad was on Elision and being held captive, and probably suffering unimaginable torture, both mental and physical. And with the fleet months away from arriving on station, his torture would continue unabated….

Arieel, I am truly grateful for you relaying this message, and once again, for your help during the Kracori attack. Without you, many more of my people would have died.

Adam felt a sudden rush of emotion through his ATD, although no words had been spoken. This was something new. I only wish I could have done more, Adam. I truly mean that.

Adam knew she did; he could feel her regret as if it were his own. So the ATD can also convoy emotions. This was an interesting sidebar – for another time. Now Adam had some planning to do. I’m going to let you go now, Arieel. I have to start planning Riyad’s rescue.

I know you are. I will be available to assist you, as will all my resources. However, one thing I ask is that you begin your mission from Formil. I believe you will find our assistance invaluable.

I appreciate that, Arieel, Adam said, a little confused by her comment. Formil will be a good staging area for the rescue. I will be in touch.

May the gods assist you in your planning, Adam Cain; you know you are now among their chosen few.

Adam felt the link dissolve. Even though Sherri was asleep in the bed next to him, he suddenly felt very alone; this was a common occurrence after each mental conversation with Arieel. It seemed as though they were able to connect on a level that went beyond simple telepathy. He now realized that their emotions were also being joined during these links, and not just their thoughts. This raised a concern he was not prepared to handle at this time.

He shook his head and commanded that the lights in the bathroom come on. He slipped out of the bed and jumped in the shower.

Riyad had to be saved; there was no question about that. The question for the moment, however, was how?

* * *

“Bullshit, General!”

General Russell Blake – the Supreme Commander of all Human military forces throughout the galaxy – let Adam’s expletive go by without comment. “You may not like it, Captain, but it’s true. You are an iconic hero figure here on Earth, and it wouldn’t do for you to go get yourself killed – not now, and especially not at the hands of the same aliens who just scorched a fair chunk of the planet. The people are demoralized enough. News of your death would only exacerbate those feelings.”

“Sir, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated … which means I don’t intend to die on this mission. You know I have some special abilities that will tip the odds in my favor.”

“I’m fully aware of your … your device, Captain; however, we’re talking about the home planet of the Kracori race. No matter what fancy gizmo you may have inside you, on Elision you’ll stick out like a Sumo wrestler at a bulimia convention.”

“I don’t plan on taking a vacation there, sir. I should be able to tap into their comm system well ahead of time and locate Riyad before I make landfall. And then it’s just a quick extraction and we’re gone without a lot of fanfare.”

General Blake shook his head. “With you no longer in my chain of command, I can’t order you not to go, Captain. And even if you were, I doubt I could stop you.” Adam knew what the General meant, and he was probably right. Blake released a deep sigh. “Adam, the fleet is coming, and if you and Mr. Tarazi are still on the planet at that time – for whatever reason – there will be no delay in the attack. This is much bigger than either you or Tarazi.”

“Understood, sir. If I haven’t been able to get us off the planet by then, I will welcome the fleet’s arrival.”

“When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I can resupply the Pegasus; probably sometime tomorrow.”

“Good luck, Captain,” General Blake said, offering Adam his hand.

The handshake was firm and meaningful. The two military men knew the stakes and they knew the chances, yet it was just something that had to be done.

Wasn’t that always the case when it came to risking one’s life for a greater cause?

* * *

“You rotten bastard! Did you think you could just slink off without telling me?”

“I have to go, Sherri. You know it and I know it.”

“Of course I know, so don’t be so melodramatic. But I’m coming with you. Riyad is my friend, too.”

“I can’t let you do that. I’ll be going in taking full advantage of my ATD. It’s the only reason I have even a slim chance of success.”

“That’s why you need me along; I want one of those things, too.”

“You’re acting out of emotion, Sherri.”

“And you’re not? C’mon, Adam, you’ve been trying to get me fitted with one of your fancy gizmos for months now. And now when I’m ready, you say no?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Listen up, buddy,” Sherri said as she moved to within inches of Adam’s face, “I’ve seen what can be done with that thing inside you,” she poked him under his right armpit, causing him to jump, “and I see now how valuable it is to the survival of – well, everyone.” Her eyes burned a hole right through him. “You know me, Cain; I’m not taking no for an answer!”

“Arieel may not allow you to be fitted,” he countered, grasping for any reason not to take her on the mission.

“That’s bullshit! You have that little alien sexpot wrapped around your little finger, and you know it. She’ll do anything you ask. I’m going, Adam, and you had better come to grips with that real fast.” She spun on her heels and stormed toward the master bedroom in the apartment Phoenix Command had provided for them. “Now I’ve got some packing to do. I would suggest you stop wasting time and do the same.”

Chapter 46

Adam Cain…

It was late afternoon of the next day by the time the Pegasus was fully restocked, not only with food and other essential supplies, but also with additional missiles and other armaments. Sherri was already inside, yet Adam was out on the tarmac, looking into the giant orange ball that was the sun setting over the craggy mountains to the west.

He always loved the desert – the real desert – where the landscape stretched to the horizon without a single trace of civilization. The VIP landing field outside of Phoenix Command was not such a place; there were buildings and other signs of man’s habitation for as far as he could see. And yet the smell and the feel of desert air could never change.

He grimaced at the thought, knowing now that the air he breathed carried an elevated level of radiation. Not deadly in its own right, but probably enough to raise cancer rates through the roof in a few short years. Once he returned to space, Adam vowed to contact Kroekus and have him set to work finding a cure for cancer somewhere from within the myriad of worlds under his control. Anywhere there were biological beings, cancer was found, and with so many millennia head start on the Humans, aliens – somewhere – had to have already found a cure. Adam was determined to find it – if he lived long enough.

Phoenix Command – as well as the entire sprawling megalopolis surrounding it – had been spared a direct hit by the Kracori bombs, although one did strike forty-eight miles to the west, close to the border between what had once been Arizona and California. Yes, those designations no longer existed on the planet Earth, at least not officially. Now they were all one big happy family of Humans, although not very happy at the moment.

No matter what the maps said, Adam would always be a California boy. Yet now, as he watched the brilliant swatch of red and yellow stretching across the vast western sky, created there by the setting of the star known as Sol, Adam Cain wondered if this would be the last sunset he would ever witness on his birth-world. Something inside told him it just might be.

In the yellow afterglow of late afternoon, Adam noticed a Humvee speeding toward his location. He wasn’t sure what this could mean; all his supplies were loaded and he was only minutes from liftoff. However, the large, boxy vehicle was definitely coming his way, and soon it skidded to a stop only a few feet from where he stood. The passenger door suddenly flew open, almost before the Humvee had come to a complete stop.

Out stepped Admiral Andy Tobias.

Adam smiled as his old friend and former commander approached. “Andy! I was hoping I’d get a chance to see you again before I left. Thanks for coming.” Adam offered his hand to the slender, gray-haired Georgian.

“Well, Captain, we’re going to have to talk about that.”

Just then the two rear side doors of the Humvee also opened … and out climbed Geoffrey Rutledge and John Tindal, two of his former SEAL teammates from a now-distant past. At the time he had last seen them, Rutledge had been a gruff old Master Chief, while John had been a Petty Officer First-Class. From the stories he’d heard, they had both left the Navy and were now performing as a musical duo in Key West. Adam had always thought it strange that these two super-macho trained-killers would now be entertaining the sunburned tourists and inebriated fishermen in America’s southern-most city with sets of old happy-hippy songs.

He smiled, genuinely glad to see them. There just hadn’t been enough time since he and Sherri had arrived back on the planet to look up old friends.

But Adam frowned when, instead of coming up to him with silly grins on their faces, the pair moved to the rear of the Humvee and opened the back hatch. His concern grew even deeper when they began to unload three, dark green duffle bags.

He looked to Tobias with his jaw open.

“We’re going with you, Captain.” Tobias stated with authority, no question in his voice.

Adam shook his head. “Can’t let you do that, Andy. You’re not equipped for the mission.”

Chief Rutledge had heard that last comment as he and Tindal lugged the bulging duffle bags up to the pair of officers and let them drop to the ground with a thud. “Not yet, Junior,” he said. “We’re not equipped … yet. But once we’re outfitted with those magic remote-control things, we’ll be just like you.”

Adam went to speak, but the Chief wasn’t done. He poked a thick finger into Adam’s chest. “I knew you when you were just a scared little baby, all crying for his daddy, and before you became this bigger-than-life superman character. But you’re not fooling anyone, and if it hadn’t been for the three of us standing here, you probably would have done your four-and-out and be washing dishes somewhere instead getting ready to head back out again to save the world – which you have a nasty habit of doing!”

It was Tindal’s turn. “There’s no getting around it, Captain, you need us on this op.” Tindal and Adam were about the same age, so they had spent a lot of time together in their early days in the Teams.

“But I don’t even know if I can get you all fitted,” Adam said, pleading for them to change their minds.

Tobias smiled. “Yeah, I know all about your relationship with that alien woman; Sherri’s filled me in. I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to make it happen,” he said with a wink.

“Besides, you had better make it happen,” Rutledge said returning to the conversation. “After all, five supermen have a much better chance of getting Tarazi out alive then just one limp-dick like you.” Adam remembered Rutledge as being a tough old bird, but he was surprised at what a curmudgeon he’d grown into. The blistering Florida sun did that to people.

Adam didn’t know what to say. Yesterday he was an army of one heading off to fight the windmill. Now with Sherri and his old teammates, they were five. He had to admit, he would surely enjoy their company for the month-long journey to Formil, and even if Arieel wouldn’t fit them with ATD’s, he could always leave them on the planet when he set-off on the mission – alone.

“There’s not much room aboard, only two cabins.”

“That’s okay, Captain,” John Tindal said. “We’ve hot-bunked it before, and in worse conditions than these.”

Adam shrugged. “Okay then, stow your gear; we lift-off in five minutes.”

* * *

A few hours later, the Pegasus was just leaving the Solar System and Adam steered the starship slightly above the ecliptic before cranking the speed up to max. The journey to Formil would take twenty-eight days, yet Adam wouldn’t wait for their arrival before speaking with Arieel about his plans. He tapped into several outgoing CW-links and made contact with the alien telepathically.

He was sitting in the lounge of the Pegasus, watching as Sherri and his three former Teammates went on about the exciting times they had as the core of a behind-the-lines seek-and-destroy unit Adam once headed following the Juirean attack on the Earth. They would be unaware he was communicating with the spiritual and political leader of an entire coalition of planets, and from across a staggering distance of nine-thousand light-years. He tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible during the subliminal conversation.

So that’s it in a nutshell. What do you think?

I think I still do not understand all Human idioms, since you seemingly have an inexhaustible supply of them, Arieel replied in his mind. Yet I do understand your situation … as well as your question. I said I would do everything in my power to assist you and your race, so I will allow for the procedures.

Adam didn’t sense any trepidation on her part, nothing like the incredible sorrow and concern he’d seen her display when he had been fitted with what the Formilian’s referred to as their Gift from the Gods. He had been the first and only male to ever have one of the artificial telepathy devices implanted, and to her – as well as all the other Formilians who knew at the time – it had been the most sacrilegious act one could commit against their beliefs. In light of all that, Adam had been expecting more of a blowback from his most recent request.

Things have changed here, Adam, Arieel thought. We have begun to be more aware of the political atmosphere around us and how seemingly unrelated events half-way across the galaxy can eventually end up affecting us. We are now taking a more-active role in the affairs of the Expansion and beyond.

That’s good, Adam replied. The Formilians are the technological leaders of the galaxy, and as such, you can have a major influence.

That is our belief as well. So we will help you, and everything will be ready when you arrive. Your people will have to have their units tuned, and then implanted. After that will come the training, which you are well-aware is the hardest and most-time consuming aspect of the entire procedure.

I understand, yet with the timetable for the Human invasion of Elision, we’ll only have a month to train, so it will have to be mission-focused at first. And besides, the longer we delay the mission, the more suffering Riyad will experience. He may even die.

The Kracori said they will keep him alive until the fleet’s arrival.

That will be drug-induced by then, and even if we do rescue him at that point, there wouldn’t be much left. No, we really must hurry.

Then do what you can to prepare your colleagues ahead of time. Having a detailed knowledge of the functioning of the Gift will help build their foundation for when the real training begins. It is all I can suggest.

That’s a great idea, Arieel, Adam thought, and again, I am so incredibly grateful for all you’re doing for us. Hopefully someday, when all this bloodshed and turmoil in the galaxy has past, our two races can have more interaction with each other. Adam felt a strange emotional wave flow through his body, but then it quick dissipated.

That would be most welcome, Adam Cain. I will go now to begin the preparations. Have a safe journey – and then after a hesitation – my friend.

As the link with the alien faded into the ether, Adam was once more left feeling empty and alone. This emotion was becoming more pronounced with each new conversation he had with the Formilian Speaker. Someday he would take the time to figure out why.

Chapter 47

Twenty-eight days later, the Pegasus entered the Formilian stellar system. Adam hadn’t been to Formil in almost a year, not since he’d been fitted with the artificial telepathy device by the less-than-enthusiastic Formilians.

There were no other words to describe it: Adam had blackmailed the Formilian Order of Light and Life to fit him with the device – the first male to ever have the procedure in the two-thousand year history of telepathy manipulation by the Order. What lasting damage his actions would have on the Formilians, he had no way of knowing. He just knew change was coming, and he felt responsible.

* * *

The Formilians were an interesting study in galactic politics and the unique merging of science with religion. Simply put, the Formilians were the foremost manufacturers of electronic devices in the galaxy, with nearly every computer and microprocessor found on thousands of planets originating on one of the seven productions worlds within the thirty-nine-member Formilian Coalition.

Since long before the time of Juirean domination of the galaxy, the Formilians had worshiped one thing above all else – electricity. And even though their scientists and engineers fully understood the origin and principals of the electromagnetic force, they chose to take this understanding one step further and assign a pair of deities to its ultimate creation and manipulation. Just as countless other species throughout the galaxy understand the biological and evolutionary process of life – yet still place a supernatural power above it all – the Formilians did the same with electricity. Their gods, Mislin and Sufor, represented the polar opposites of positive and negative which allow for the existence of the electromagnetism, one of the four basic forces found throughout the universe. Through the millennia, their religion became based on the science of electrical creation and the construction of devices to utilize that force.

The Formilian interaction with the galaxy at-large began over two-thousand years before when the planet encountered the first Juirean empire. At that time, the Juireans were a more-belligerent race, obsessed with the manic rush to bring the entire galaxy under their domination. What the Juireans found in the Formilians and their advanced electronic technology was a means of acquiring another kind of domination over the worlds they encountered – technological, rather than simply military superiority.

The Juireans and the Formilians soon entered into a completely unique affiliation, especially for the Juireans, who until then controlled worlds and societies exclusively by overwhelming force. In the case of the Formilians, they allowed the society to exist completely autonomous of the Juirean Empire and their subsequent Expansion. In return the Formilians would grant the Juireans exclusive right to all Formilian devices. In very short order, the Juireans not only controlled the most-powerful military force in the galaxy, but also the most-advanced technology. Without this special arrangement, the Juireans would never have attained the ultimate status they achieved.

The rather insidious infiltration of the galaxy through technology begun innocently enough, though, and involved the development of the universal translation devices so ubiquitous now that it’s hard to imagine a time without them.

Two thousand years ago, the Juireans were incorporating hundreds of new worlds into their empire on a yearly basis. This caused an almost insurmountable problem with communications, not only because each planet had its own language, but on the vast majority, hundreds – if not thousands – of separate dialects were spoken.

In a few tragic cases, misunderstanding in translations even brought about interstellar wars which cost billions of lives, including the complete extermination of two whole races by the Juireans.

As it turned out, something as simple as spoken language almost brought a galactic empire crashing down.

Desperate for a solution, the Juireans turned to the Formilians. At the time, they were working on a miniature translation device that held the promise of saving the Empire from collapse. It was a bio-mechanical ‘bug’ that would embed itself under the skin behind the ear of the host and would sync with the brainwaves of the being to provide accurate language translations.

But simply having a device that could translate was only the tip of the iceberg. With the sheer number of languages involved, this meant that no single device could contain enough memory resources to store them all. So the Formilians were the first to develop the Library, the galactic internet that was originally designed to store myriad languages found throughout the Juirean Empire.

As it evolved, once a new language was encountered, the individual device would begin assimilating all the various words and phrases possible – which is an on-going process even to this day for nearly every known language. Then once a bug came in contact with another bug, it would pass along its database for the new language, until finally access to the Library was reached. At this point the new language was stored in the vast memory of the Library before being disseminated to all bugs requiring access. Each individual translation bug only stored in its memory the few languages its host was in contact with at the time – and yet in a micro-second, any new language encountered could be downloaded to the device through the Library.

From this singular purpose, the Library grew to become a complete resource for all knowledge throughout the galaxy. The servers for the Library are Formilian-designed and located on the planet Formil herself.

The Formilian translation bug revolutionized communications between species and was one of the driving forces behind the success of the Juirean domination of the galaxy. This tiny, flat, triangular-shape ‘bug’ essentially brought all the races of the galaxy together as one.

This small device was also the impetuous for an entire religion, and led to a dominant bloodline that has ruled the Formilian people and their Coalition of planets for two-thousand years.

* * *

As the translation bug was in development, one of the lead scientists on the team was a Formilian female named Lorilie Bol. Her area of expertise dealt with the interface between the device and the brain, and she was genius at what she did.

Early on, Bol saw the potential for more than just translation interface with the living brain, believing that a more-advanced module could provide a link between the brain and other electronic devices, and not only translation bugs. Eighteen years after the perfection of the translation bug, Lorilie Bol had her first working prototype of the artificial telepathy device.

Yet unlike the translation bug, which was distributed by the trillions throughout the galaxy, Bol chose to construct only one such telepathy device at a time – and with herself as its only recipient.

Unknown to but a select few in the galaxy, it was actually the Juireans who suggested the module be exclusive to only Bol and her descendants, and fully supported the development of the religion that grew from its invention. The Juireans knew it would be much easier to control one person with a telepathy device than it would billions of creatures all having such abilities.

Lorilie Bol was presented to the Formilian people as the living embodiment of their religion, serving as a direct link with their gods, Mislin and Sufor. Through dazzling and mind-boggling displays of her miraculous powers, Lorilie mesmerized the masses with her manipulation of electricity and electronic devices, apparently with only the power of her mind … as well as the support of the gods. She could ‘speak’ with Mislin and Sufor directly, and soon the title of Speaker was assigned to Lorilie Bol and her descendants, and the Order of Light and Life was created to administer to her every need – and to keep the secret of the telepathy device from the masses.

As her myth grew, the Formilians began a frenetic drive to produce more and more electronic devices which would serve as conduits to the gods for their Speaker. The Juireans reveled in this new surge of invention, as they soon had even more wondrous gadgets with which to introduce to the galaxy. And as the population of the galaxy grew more dependent and wanting of these new inventions, the power and the influence of the Juireans grew with it.

In the end Formilian society prospered and became united under one authority, that of the Speaker Lorilie Bol, while the Juireans were free to expand their empire in a more peaceful, yet surreptitious manner. If it weren’t for Lorilie Bol and the Formilian telepathy device, the Juirean Expansion would never have come into existence.

* * *

Yet in order to maintain the myth of the supernatural nature of Bol’s powers, it was decided that only female offspring directly descended from Lorilie Bol would ever be fitted with the device and hold the title of Speaker. After all, it was the being Lorilie Bol who possessed the power, as would her offspring as well throughout the generations.

Only the very top echelon of the Order would ever know the truth, and as the millennia passed, even the Speakers themselves began to believe in the supernatural nature of the powers. The device – while being constructed by mortal beings – was a product of the gods who passed their knowledge on to the technicians tasked with the construction. And so without the guidance of the Gods, the ‘device’ could never be constructed. This helped to resolve the glaring contradiction of divine creation of an electronic device.

Soon the tradition evolved that when the current Speaker reached thirty-five years of age, she would produce a single female offspring, who five years later would be given the Gift from the Gods. She would then spend the next ten years learning how to attain harmony and unity with the Gods until she was made the new Speaker, replacing the current one.

For two thousand years, and through fifty-seven Speakers, the tradition had been followed – until Adam Cain threatened to reveal the Order’s secret to the galaxy. Unless he was also fitted with one of the telepathy devices, he would show the Formilian people and their supporting Coalition that all they had worshiped for two thousand years had been a fraud, and the ‘powers’ of the Speaker were artificial in nature and could be available to anyone with such a device.

With no other choice, the head Celebrant and the leaders of the Order had agreed to Adam’s demand, and now over the few months that he had carried the ATD within him, he had proven to Speaker Arieel Bol and the High Celebrants of the Order that he was no threat to them. That threat came instead from the impending collapse of the Expansion and the chaos that would result.

With Formil as one of the last remaining economic and technological superpowers in the galaxy, it would soon become a target of the new forces springing up nearly everywhere, and all would seek dominion over the Formilians.

Adam was glad to hear that the Formilians were beginning to take a more active role in the affairs of the Expansion. Prior to this, they had retained their autonomy and detachment, living within the bubble that was their own myopic view of the galaxy.

But now the Juireans were gone from the Expansion, and Kroekus and his failing government was in no position to offer the protection that had always kept the evil forces at bay. It was now up to the Formilians to provide for their own defense.

In a relatively brief time, the attitude of the Formilians had changed. Now they offered no resistance when Adam requested that not only another female be fitted with the ATD, but also three other males, and all aliens as well.

The very thought of this happening even a year ago on Formil would have been beyond anyone’s imagination. Now they had offered absolutely no resistance.

Chapter 48

On Formil…

Adam landed the Pegasus at the Order’s exclusive spaceport outside the white stone walls of the Temple Complex located at the northern edge of the sprawling metropolis of the capital city of Vull. The city itself was one of the most-modern in the entire galaxy, yet the ancient Temple Complex was a study in contrasts. It was constructed of primarily large stone blocks and with architecture reminiscent of a time of castles and knights if it had been located on Earth.

As the large open-air transport brought the Humans within the walls of the Complex, Adam’s companions were awed by the spectacle of it all. Adam had been here before, so he knew it was all for show, designed to evoke just the response it was generating from the Humans.

In a way, Adam felt sorry for the Formilians. Soon their entire society would change, as outside influences began to take over. Eventually the veil of the Speaker would be pulled back and then things would really change. Whether they could survive once the truth was known remained a mystery. He knew the myth of the Speaker had not been created simply to deceive for the sake of power. It was a unifying influence, and once it was gone, would the whole society collapse, and with it all the wondrous contributions the race has made to the peoples of the galaxy? Adam certainly hoped it wouldn’t. Besides all the other consequences that it would bring about, it would also break the heart of Arieel Bol.

* * *

Their escorts led the Humans to the Temple of Light and Life, the most-sacred building in Formilian society. It was within these walls that Adam and Arieel had rushed to the Throne Room to keep the bomb within Arieel’s body from exploding only a short year before. In the end he had succeeded in saving the Speaker’s life, and since that time, Arieel and he had been linked in some inexplicable way that went beyond the ATD’s they both carried. And as he approached the smiling Formilian Speaker, he felt that same uneasiness he refused to analyze any deeper. Not now; maybe never.

As always happened when in the presence of one of the most-beautiful humanoid females in the galaxy, Adam felt strangely uncomfortable, especially having Sherri with him. He always felt guilty in his thoughts, and he was sure that Sherri – even without an ATD – could read them with clarity.

Adam and his entourage stopped just below the elevated throne where Arieel sat, as the High Celebrant Convor Ton’al Ona stepped forward.

“Welcome Adam Cain, and the rest of your companions,” Convor said with graciousness and sincerity. “I am pleased to see you again, yet regret the circumstances that have brought you to Formil. Although I only met Mr. Riyad Tarazi briefly on Pyrum-3, I could tell he was a friend and a valued asset to your organization.”

“Thank you, Celebrant Convor,” Adam said, genuinely happy to see the Formilian. It was always good to have a Formilian male in the room when Arieel was present; they tended to distract Sherri from her insecurities surrounding the Speaker. The males – every damn one of them – were tanned, buffed and barrel-chested, and exuded such a strong sense of viral pheromones that Sherri often felt like a fourteen-year-old girl attending her first rock concert. Adam could sense her self-control holding back her urge to scream, pant and maybe even faint in the presence of such masculine perfection – even though Convor would be the equivalent to sixty-five in Earth years. Still, the dude was a hunk.

Adam addressed both Convor and Arieel with his next statement. “I know the tremendous sacrifice the two of you are making just so we can attempt a rescue of our friend. And once our mission is complete, I assure you we will only use the ATD’s – the Gifts – you give us for good. You have mentioned that your society is changing, and the Formilians will be taking a more active role in the galaxy. Personally, I welcome this. There’s a darkness coming, and we will need the light provided by the Formilian’s to help us through.”

Adam felt Sherri nudge him; he glanced at her and saw the quizzical frown on her face. He knew her well enough to know what she was thinking: What the hell is all this Lord of the Rings-type bullshit?

He shrugged, knowing that as soon as his team got him in private the hazing would be classic.

Arieel stood and stepped down from the Throne platform to stand before Adam and his group. Adam now smiled, not so much at Arieel, but at the uncomfortable shuffling he could hear coming from the three men behind him. This was the first time any of them had seen Arieel and he knew exactly what they were going through. From that day on, they would never be able to get the image of Arieel Bol out of their minds – or their fantasies.

Arieel’s expression suddenly turned very serious. “My friend Adam Cain, and all of your brave companions, I too, welcome you. As I have promised, all the arrangements have been made for your procedures, although I do not envy the mission you have set for yourselves. The Kracori homeworld will not welcome your actions, and I fear for your success.”

“Speaker Bol,” Adam said, smiling. “We are a specialized unit skilled at just this type of operation.”

Arieel did not return his smile. “I realize that, Adam; you saved my life using such a skill-set. But this is different. Now you will be going against an entire planet and the odds will be greatly against your success.”

Adam could sense there was something she was holding back. His suspicion was verified when she turned to Convor – her father – and nodded.

“Mr. Cain,” Convor began. “The situation has changed recently. The deadline for the rescue of your friend has been shortened. But I will have another explain.”

A side door to the Temple opened and the huge, yet agile, figure of Kroekus entered the room. The huge Silean was the Administrator of the Expansion, headquartered on Juir, and was literally the Supreme Being in the galaxy. Adam was surprised to see him here on Formil. Yet it was the other pair of beings who entered behind him that really shocked Adam.

It was Kaylor and Jym.

Sherri yelled and ran to the two of them, with Adam only a step behind. They embraced the tall Belsonian and the squat bear-like Fulquin. It had been years since the Humans had last seen their old alien companions and the feeling of joy was universal, even for the skittish Jym.

Adam turned to embrace Kroekus as well. “What the hell?” he asked. “What’s the purpose of the reunion; I didn’t expect to see any of you here.”

“Once I informed ambassadors Kaylor and Jym that their friend Riyad Tarazi was in trouble, they both insisted on coming along.”

Adam frowned and then looked down at Jym. “Even you? I thought Riyad terrified you?”

“I’ve grown past that, Adam,” Jym said. “I understand more of Human nature now, so I do not fear Riyad – or the rest of you – as I did before.”

Sherri hugged the tiny bear. “Good,” she said. “We’re not as frightening as some of us want you to believe.” She looked at Adam as she completed her statement.

Adam looked at the two aliens and shook his head. “I appreciate the support you two, and you Kroekus, but we have this covered. This mission will be beyond dangerous. If you want to provide support here on Formil that would be great. Other than that—”

“We’ve been fitted with the Formilian Gifts as well, Adam.” Kaylor said interrupting. “And we’re going with you on the mission.”

Adam’s jaw dropped and he looked at Kroekus. “Not me!” the huge Silean corrected. “I am here for other purposes.”

Sherri came to stand next to Adam and they both stared at Kroekus but said nothing. They were too much in shock. Kroekus began speaking. “I have come into possession of some very disturbing news which has altered the landscape of the Expansion. It seems as though the Juireans have also acquired the location of Elision, and are at this time planning a strike against the planet.”

“But we’re….” Adam let his sentence fade off.

“It appears as though your people will not get the chance to avenge the recent attack on Earth,” Kroekus continued. “The Juireans will beat you to Elision.”

“Good, then we won’t have to attack,” Sherri said. “That will save a lot of lives.” And then she tensed. “When … when will the Juireans be there?”

“Three months at the most,” Kroekus answered. “But that’s not the worst of it. Our source also believes the Juireans plan on retaking the Expansion.”

Adam’s mind was racing, with two levels of concern.

The first was that Riyad now had to be rescued before the Juirean attack, which would require his plan to be accelerated by at least thirty days. With the implantations and training required, it wouldn’t be enough time. The training would have to be cut back, which could prove not only dangerous for the mission but also for his team. And now Kaylor and Jym say they’re going as well. ATD’s or not, they were not adequately trained for such a mission.

His second concern was for the Expansion. Even with it failing, he wondered what it would be like to have the Juireans back in charge of the Expansion? They might be able to save it from a complete breakdown … but then what of the Earth? The Juireans had never allowed other powerful forces to co-exist with them in the galaxy, so this may just be a precursor to an eventual conflict between the Humans and Juireans – again.

Mentally, Adam shrugged off the fog of thoughts clouding the current situation. At the moment he was on Formil to prepare for the rescue of Riyad Tarazi. After that was achieved, then he would worry about all the other crap going on in the galaxy.

“Kroekus, this is all disturbing news, but right now I have to figure out how I – we – are going to save Riyad before the Juireans get to Elision. My timetable has been completely screwed up.”

Convor stepped up to the group. “I may help with that. The implant procedures are rather simple and all the preparations for that part of your mission have been made. It’s the training that is at issue. Therefore, I would like to introduce you to another old friend.”

Adam turned as Trimen O’lac approached from behind, leading a phalanx of seven other Formilian males, all bronze, muscular and with determined looks on their faces. Adam greeted the Second Celebrant and his former ATD trainer as warmly as he had the others.

“Trimen and the others are to accompany you as well, Adam Cain,” said Convor. “But more than that … go ahead Trimen.”

“My friend Adam Cain,” Trimen began. “Since your implantation, many things have changed here on Formil. We now know – as you pointed out – that we are in possession of a very powerful device, as well as a weapon. And with the forces that appear to be aligning against us, the Formilian people need a defense force equal to the task.” He paused and smiled. “Adam, I have acquired the Gift!”

“No shit!”

Trimen was very familiar with Human-speak, so he didn’t miss a beat. “No shit! After the experience with your implant, it was studied and found that Formilian males are very compatible with the Gift, and even though the knowledge and the practice is still a closely guarded secret, we have begun to equip others with the Gift. These others behind me are some of the first.”

“I’m in shock, Trimen,” Adam said truthfully. He looked over at Arieel. “Is this why you insisted I begin the mission here?”

“Yes, Adam,” she said. “Trimen and his team will be going with you. They will train your Humans during the transit, and will assist themselves in any way they can. Even though I feel somewhat diminished by all that had occurred on my homeworld over the past few months, I do see the necessity if my people are to survive. But for now, the team will consist of the five Humans, your friends Kaylor and Jym, plus Trimen and his Formilians. As you arrive to rescue Riyad Tarazi, you will have a force of fifteen specially-enhanced individuals to carry out the mission.”

She smiled so warmly that it actually took Adam’s breath away. “The chance of your safe return is now greatly increased – as is the prospect of Riyad’s rescue being a success.”

Adam didn’t know what to say. He spent a moment surveying the crowd within the Temple chambers while preparing a response which all were expecting.

He was thrilled to see his old alien friends Kaylor and Jym, and the prospect of working with them again – in whatever capacity – was heartwarming. And with the addition of Trimen and his Formilians, who would know how to manipulate their ATD’s better than any of the Humans, the chances of Riyad and the rest of them getting out alive had suddenly increased exponentially. Confidence soared within him.

“I started this mission as a personal task I felt compelled to undertake,” he began, now looking at Sherri and the rest of his Human companions. “I never expected such support, from either my own kind or others who do not belong to the Human race … or who have never met Riyad Tarazi personally. Your help is welcome and appreciated.”

And then Adam Cain smiled – a wicked, sinister smile – before saying, “The Kracori have no idea what’s coming their way!”

The End

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Novels by T.R. Harris

The Adam Cain Saga

The Dead Worlds

Empires

Battle Plan

Galactic Vortex

Dark Energy

Universal Law

The Formation Code

The Quantum Enigma

Children of the Aris

The Human Chronicles

The Fringe Worlds

Alien Assassin

The War of Pawns

The Tactics of Revenge

The Legend of Earth

Cain’s Crusaders

The Apex Predator

A Galaxy to Conquer

The Masters of War

Prelude to War

The Unreachable Stars

When Earth Reigned Supreme

A Clash of Aliens

Battlelines

The Copernicus Deception

Scorched Earth

Alien Games

The Cain Legacy

The Andromeda Mission

Last Species Standing

Invasion Force

Force of Gravity

Mission Critical

The Lost Universe

The Immortal War

Destroyer of Worlds

Phantoms

Terminus Rising

The Last Aris

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