The Tactics of Revenge

The Human Chronicles Saga #4

T.R. Harris

In this alien universe, WE are the supermen!

Copyright 2012

by Tom Harris Creations, LLC

ISBN: 0-978-0-9858849-4-9

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

REV Warriors Series

Rev

REV: Renegades

REV: Rebirth

REV: Revolution

REV: Retribution

REV Warriors Part 2

REV: Revelations

REV: Resolve

REV: Requiem

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

Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series

The Enclaves of Sylox

Treasure of the Galactic Lights

The Drone Wars Series

Day of the Drone

In collaboration with Co-Author George Wier…

The Liberation Series

Captains Malicious

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

Contents

Adam Cain is an alien with an attitude.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

The End

The Human Chronicles Saga

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Novels by T.R. Harris

Adam Cain is an alien with an attitude.

His story continues…

Chapter 1

The Humans had caused all of this…

As Poul walked quickly down the concrete walkway toward Lann Hall, he couldn’t decide whether he was happy or sad. In either case, tonight would be a life-altering event for him, and if one thing was for certain, he was glad to be out of his chamber and away from the chattering of his mates.

Poul had to admit times were tough on Hyben. Ever since the Juireans had pulled their ships out of the maintenance yards and sent them off to confront the evil Human threat, his hours had been cut back drastically, and what credits he did have in reserve had been quickly exhausted. And now his lumic-mate was badgering him constantly about the lack of mature food he was bringing into the chamber—with the nagging urged on by his two nin-mates. For their part, the females were doing the best they could, producing pups at a feverish pace. Yet even then, it was barely enough to keep the older offspring fed.

That practice—of feeding freshborns to newvins—was another problem for Poul, and one potentially greater than the financial difficulties he was in. The succulent meat of the recently-emerged freshborns carried within it all the essential chemicals and nutrients that his older offspring required. Yet as more of their diet consisted of freshborn-flesh, they risked addiction to the taste of their brethren. As adults, Poul and his mates could resist the urges, but not so the younger members of his pod. If he could not provide more mature meat for his family—and soon—then all his offspring would be forever lost to the blood-lust for young meat.

As newvins, this practice was accepted, if frowned upon. But as adults, the killing and devouring of freshborns was strictly forbidden. If something wasn’t done soon, his older offspring would be hopelessly consumed by the desire for this forbidden flesh, and they would seek it out, either from his pod or from others. Already, there were reports of newvin attacks on outside pods. And now Poul—within his own chamber—was breeding a new horde of these potential cannibalistic feeders.

It was bad all over Hyben, and even though no formal battle had yet been joined between the Juireans and the Humans within Expansion space, the coming war was already having a devastating effect on his planet, as well as the Sector as a whole.

As it turned out, the rumors had been true, and the population of the Expansion soon learned the shocking reality behind the recent attack upon a planet called Earth—and the resulting destruction of the Juirean fleet. At first, many had refused to believe the stories, but now even the Juirean-controlled newscasts were reporting on the defeat.

Poul found the news to be of considerable distress. It had been over four hundred years since the Juireans had first swept down upon Hyben, dispelling any disbelief in the existence of other life forms within the galaxy, and as the centuries passed, the natives of Hyben had become completely integrated into the Juirean Expansion. The planet now served as a major maintenance hub for most of the starships traveling throughout the nearby Sectors, with dozens of off-world species intermingled among its native population. If the Juireans were now vulnerable to defeat then the entire structure of the Expansion was at risk. And where would that leave his planet, his race and his pod?

For his part, Poul had once been a very accomplished tech-installer, maneuvering expertly within the narrow confines of any number of major-class starships, working on various gravity generators, air purifiers, computer modules and more. It was this experience he was counting on to land him a well-paying position aboard one of the hundreds of new Class-5 warships soon to be coming out of the Sectors beyond the Core.

Even now, the Juireans were engaged in a massive building frenzy, the likes of which had not been seen since the days of The Mass. Yet as they turned out dozens of new starships every month, the Juireans soon discovered a problem. They had the means of production and they had the materials; what they lacked were the crews for all the new ships being built to counter the marauding Human invaders.

And that was the impetus for the meeting taking place that evening in Lann Hall.

If Poul could find work aboard one of these new warships he would immediately gain two distinct benefits. First, he would earn enough credits to provide a better life for him and his pod, including mature meat for the newvins, sparing them the possibility of having to be put down by the authorities. And secondly, it would get him off the planet—and away from the constant berating from his mates.

As Poul hurried to the meeting, he firmed his resolve to do whatever it took to gain employment with the Juireans—even if such employment did carry with it the danger of confronting the evil Human barbarians. Yet in light of his current financial situation, it was a risk he was willing to take.

However, as he rounded the corner of Jun and Myyu Streets, Poul’s heart sank. There—in the dimming light of early evening—he saw a long line of Primes, snaking its way out of Lann Hall and wrapping around the entire building. There were at least a thousand other beings all there with the same goal in mind as he.

Dejected, Poul stepped to the back of the line, just behind two shorter creatures in black cloaks and hoods and prayed to the Bello Gods that the Juireans were looking for more than just a hand-full of new recruits for their ships this evening. After all, he couldn’t face the prospect of returning to his chamber with bad news for his mates. If he did, they just might set upon him in a feeding frenzy of their own.

As more creatures lined up behind him, each seeking their own ounce of salvation from the depressed economy, Poul produced a wry grin and thought: If my mates did fill their bellies with my flesh, at least then my troubles would be over. I wonder what I actually taste like?

* * *

Nerves soon got the better of him and Poul began to chat with the other beings in the line. The native behind him was named Jyyl, and he had worked at the power generating plant in Muull until the workforce had been cut back six months before. He was an expert with containment chambers, and Poul agreed that Jyyl’s skills should be in demand aboard any decent-sized starship. Jyyl returned the encouragement to Poul.

The smaller of the hooded creatures in front of him was more talkative than the taller one. It was a female, and she agreed that the need was great for crews aboard the new Juirean ships, saying there should be plenty of work for all.

As the line moved inexorably forward, Poul’s mood improved. Even though there were more than a thousand applicants for the crews there that night—with more joining the line every minute—he was feeling much better about his chances.

Eventually, Poul entered the hall and the line continued to wind its way toward the table where the Juireans sat. There were five of them, all green-haired Guards, looking serious—and bored. Poul had encountered numerous Juireans aboard the ships he serviced, although he had never spoken with one directly. He was both nervous—and excited—at the prospect of having an actual conversation with one.

As he fixated on the Juireans, Poul couldn’t help but notice that the table they sat at was surrounded by eight very large and impressive-looking creatures of a species he didn’t recognize. He knew the Juireans often traveled with bodyguards these days, a practice Poul found particularly disturbing. After all, these were Juireans, the leaders of the Expansion. The fact that they now required guards themselves meant that the Human threat was apparently much more serious than first believed.

Poul tried to put these thoughts out of his mind, but that became more difficult when he noticed the two massive electronic posters displayed on the walls behind the Juireans. Each showed the same larger-than-life Prime, with powerful, muscular arms streaked with bulging blue veins. The creature was naked from the waist up, with bandoliers of Xan-Fi power packs crisscrossing his chest, and in his hands he cradled an evil-looking double-barrel flash rifle. The beast was displaying blood-dripping fangs and horns sprouted from his forehead, just above the red, fierce eyes that stared down at all in the room that evening.

Above the image—and written in Hyben with letters standing two meters tall—were the words: “This is YOUR Enemy. This creature will destroy your homes, your families, your way of life. Beware the Human Savage. Join the Juirean cause today and save your worlds. Signing advance available.”

Poul swallowed hard, staring at the image. He could not understand Juirean logic; an image such as this did nothing to firm his resolve. Rather, it only made him question his decision to come here in the first place. After all, the Hyben were more pacifists than warriors. In fact, if it wasn’t for the dire financial condition he was in, Poul would have left the hall that moment and returned to the safety and security of his chamber, far beneath the warm, red soil of his homeworld.

Poul glanced around the room, noticing a number of additional tables set up where members from a dozen different species were all seated before Hyben bureaucrats, each busily entering data into computer terminals. Very few of the occupants in the hall were being turned away; it appeared the Juireans were taking all comers. Poul looked up at the menacing image again and then back at the tables where recruits were being enlisted. By now, he was only a few creatures from the Juireans; it was now or never. If he was going to change his mind, it would have to be soon….

The two hooded figures in front of him moved up to the Juirean table.

“State your name and race,” one of the Juireans commanded without looking up.

The taller of the beings spoke first. “I have a question: Do you allow mating pairs to enlist together?”

The Juirean glanced up. “That depends. Does your mate have any skills that would be of value?”

The female stepped a little closer to the table. “Yes,” she stated. “I have skills.” She then reached up and pulled the hood back from her head, revealing a cascade of long yellow hair. “I’m very good at killing Juirean scum—like you!”

In a flash, the female produced a half-meter long double-edged sword. She displayed it momentarily before the widening eyes of the five Juireans seated at the table. Then with a push of a button on the hilt, the sword expanded out to a full meter in length. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the shiny blade in the direction of the Juirean who had been speaking; an instant later his head separated from his neck and tumbled sideways to the floor.

Before the others could react, the female had severed the head of the Juirean to her right, while the other hooded creature produced a blade of his own, decapitating the other three Juirean Guards in a single, fluid motion of his sword.

Poul was sprayed with Juirean blood as he stood in shocked disbelief, before being shoved out of the way by a surge of bodyguards, all rushing forward to pile upon the two assassins. Poul fell back into the line of waiting recruits, starting a cascade of tumbling bodies that continued through at least twenty or more of the beings behind him.

Through his panic and confusion, Poul now saw two large piles of bodyguards, completely subduing the killers. But then a blood-covered blade suddenly shot out of the back of one of the guards; it quickly receded, only to appear a breath later out of the back of another. In the meantime, one of the hulking guards in the other pile flew into the air and landed face up in front of Poul. The guard’s eyes were closed, and although Poul could see no wounds, he instinctively knew the creature was dead.

And then the two assassins exploded out of the piles of now-dead guards, standing with fierce, wild looks in their eyes, blood dripping down their faces and staining their clothing. As Poul lay on the bed of creatures who had fallen with him, he looked at the face of the male assassin, and then at the image looming behind him on the wall. Except for the lack of horns and fangs, the creature standing before him was a Human!

The stampede had begun, and Poul strained to regain his feet and make his way to the exit. Yet before he could, the female Human shot past him at an unbelievable speed, crashing through the panicked crowd to place her back against the double exit doors, preventing any in the room from escaping. The Human male then jumped effortlessly to the top of the table, where only moments before the five Juireans had sat. He threw off his blood-soaked cloak and swung a Xan-Fi flash rifle from around his back. He lifted the deadly weapon in his hands and sent a bolt into the ceiling.

The room became deathly quiet, as all eyes fell upon the Human. Holding the flash rifle as he did, the image of the savage Human killer was now complete. This was the enemy—and the enemy was here, on Poul’s planet.

The Human waved the rifle to his left. “All of you move to this side of the room—hurry!” And then the creature pointed the barrel of the rifle directly at him. “Everyone except you.”

Poul nearly fainted, and his nin-arms began to click and quiver uncontrollably. He used his mid-arms to place the nins in his pockets to still them, and then rose slowly to his feet. The Human was staring at him.

“You seem like a peaceful creature,” the Human said to him. “Why do you want to fight against us? Our war is with the Juireans, not you.”

Poul was surprised that words could still emanate from his throat, even though they cracked as they did so. “I do not want to fight you. I just need the credits to support my pod.”

The creature nodded. “I can understand that.” Then the Human looked behind the table and down at the boxes of Juirean credits sitting on the floor, the source of the signing advance most of the recruits were to receive that evening. He turned to address the room.

“My name is Adam Cain—remember that, you will be asked. We Humans are at war with the Juireans because they came to our homeworld and killed over a billion of our people. We were no threat to them, yet they attacked anyway, purely out of fear and evil intent. But you can be assured that we will not rest until every last Juirean is dead. You can join them…and die. Or you can remain neutral, and you will not be harmed. The choice is yours.” Then the creature looked down at Poul. “Come here,” he commanded, as he jumped off the back of the table.

Poul did as he was told. The Human bent down and scooped up a large handful of credits from one of the boxes. He reached across the table and began to stuff the chips into a pocket of Poul’s robe. The blood-stained creature repeated the process three more times, until Poul’s pockets were bulging with easily a year or two worth of income. His heart pounded in his throat, and he was growing light-headed.

“All of you in this room will receive a share of the credits the Juireans brought with them. Use them as best you can. When Humans win this war—and we will—trade will not be restricted among the worlds, nor will we horde the secrets of technology. You will be allowed to start businesses and to prosper as never before.” The Human—Adam Cain was his name—looked again at Poul. “You only have to fear us if you join the Juireans. If not, then we will leave you in peace. Now you, come over here and start passing out these credits for as long as they last.”

And then the Human rapidly closed and opened one eye at him—just one. Poul was at a lost as to the meaning of the gesture, but he sensed he and the blood-soaked beast had shared a moment, a connection of some sort. A heartbeat later, the creature was gone, dashing from the hall, with the female close behind.

For a moment, no one in the room moved, and then suddenly there was a surge toward the table where Poul stood. Whether it was out of a sense of duty—or survival—Poul began to place stacks of credits into the eager hands of the other occupants in the hall. He continued to pass out the chips as fast as he could, his actions maintaining a delicate balance between hysteria and panic within the noisy crowd of wide-eyed creatures.

These credits would help, Poul thought—for a while. But then he would have a decision to make. He could continue down his current path, or he could try to find another line of work, one not associated with Juireans or the weapons of war. In light of the encounter he’d just had with the Human beast, the latter path seemed like the most-sensible—and healthy—to follow.

Chapter 2

Adam Cain and Sherri Valentine barreled their way through the angry and confused crowd of aliens outside the hall, heading for a back alley they’d scouted earlier. It wouldn’t be long before the authorities would arrive and put an end to Adam’s Robin Hood-like generosity with the Juirean credits. In the meantime, the quest for free credits would turn the once-passive crowd of potential recruits into a raging mob of desperate individuals. If the Humans were lucky, it would be hours before peace would be restored, and by then they would be well on their way off the planet.

The killing of Juireans was always a dicey affair, and there was the possibility that all traffic off the planet would be halted once the killings were reported. So the day before Adam placed the small shuttle craft they’d acquired from General Angar on the back of a transport truck and had it driven to an open field not too far from Lann Hall. Adam couldn’t risk leaving the shuttle at the spaceport. Locating it in the nearby field, away from any formal flight restrictions, would give them an opportunity to get off the planet, even if all the spaceports were locked down.

It was well into Day18 by the time they made their way to the field, but there was still plenty of light from the nearby streetlamps, as well as from the three moons of Hyben. The shuttle was sitting to the far left edge of the field, looking conspicuous and out of place, and as they sprinted across the field, Adam noticed the shuttle didn’t look quite right. As they drew closer, the reason became apparent.

The main hatchway for the shuttle was missing, as were the rear chemical jet ports; even the electronic code box for the entry hatch was gone, with only bare wires dangling from the opening. The craft was sitting cock-eyed on the ground, with one landing gear unit missing. And to top it off, there was even some graffiti sprayed on the surface of the shuttle.

The craft had been stripped and tagged!

The two Humans entered the shuttle to find even more disappointment inside. The pilothouse was one cavernous room of missing modules and orphan wires—even the pilot and co-pilot seats were gone.

Adam and Sherri stood in stunned silence, shoulders slumped, mouths agape. They were on a planet in Sector 16, eight hundred light-years from the Fringe, and their only ride off the planet was now an empty hulk of useless metal. And to add to that, they had just killed five Juireans—along with an untold number of bodyguards—and soon the entire planet would be looking for them.

Sherri looked over at Adam. “Here’s another fine mess you’ve got me into,” she said, half-mockingly.

He returned her gaze and flashed a wide smile. “Look on the bright side: we still have our health!”

“Yeah…but for how long?”

Adam shrugged, before the pair quickly moved to the aft section of the shuttle, to the ship’s sole berthing quarters. Fortunately, most of their clothing was still there; apparently the shrimp-shaped Hybens had no need for Human-tailored clothing.

After quickly changing out of their blood-soaked cloaks and tunics, Adam and Sherri searched the shuttle for their back-up weapons but found none. The thieves had done a very thorough job. Adam was mentally kicking himself for letting this happen, although he knew he had locked the shuttle’s hatch when they left for Lann Hall earlier that afternoon. Yet the economy on Hyben was tough these days, and the natives desperate. This desperation only added to their resolve.

“What now, my Captain, my Captain?” Sherri asked, as she checked the power charge on her MK-17. She had two surplus power packs and that was all—except for her lethal projection blade. Adam had a blade of his own, plus an MK with four packs, and the flash rifle with two extra power units. None of their weapons would last long in a prolonged battle.

“It’s obvious we have to find another ship to get back up to the JU-224. And the Hyben and Juireans will be watching for any ship trying to depart—”

“And since you announced your name for all to hear, I think the J’s will be quite anxious to get their hands on you,” Sherri added.

“Yeah, that probably wasn’t such a good idea.”

The name of Adam Cain had circulated rapidly throughout this side of the Expansion, which was all part of the propaganda campaign the Humans had devised a couple of months back. Already, there were three other teams doing exactly what Sherri and Adam had done that evening: infiltrate Juirean recruiting meetings and strike fear in the hearts and minds of the potential recruits. During their strategy meetings back in the Fringe, it had been concluded that the Juireans would have the resources to produce a sufficient number of warcraft to go up against the Human fleet, but if they couldn’t find crews to man them their numerical superiority would be nullified.

Already, Kroekus’s spies in the other parts of the Expansion were reporting that Adam’s strategy was having an effect. The Juireans were finding it difficult to secure recruits from the more affluent member worlds of the Expansion, so recently they began to concentrate their efforts on the poorer worlds, ones where the risk of going up against the Humans was outweighed by the need for financial survival. Hyben was one such world.

Yet with all the success of the propaganda campaign, it did require Adam and the other teams to travel deeper into Juirean territory, far away from any support or possibility of rescue should any unforeseen events take place—such as having your shuttle stripped by alien gang-bangers!

Adam knew the Humans could never survive going up against a unified coalition of Expansion planets, so their only hope was to keep as many of the Members as neutral bystanders to the war as possible. And even though the strategy was working, Adam also knew that his tactics would soon have to change. The Juireans were traveling with more bodyguards these days, and as his terrorism activities continued, the Juireans would increase the security surrounding the meetings until infiltration would become impossible. Adam and his Raiders would then have to resort to more indiscriminate methods of disrupting the meetings, such as bombings. An escalation of that sort would cause more civilian casualties, which would poison the message the Humans were trying to send to the other Members of the Expansion, that it was Humans vs. Juireans, not the rest of the Expansion.

Adam was walking a fine line between his role as a terrorist and as a soldier. His only salvation would come with more quick and decisive Human victories against the Juirean fleets. If so, then the simple reality of the situation would go a long way to deterring any mass volunteer efforts to man the Juirean ships. The recruits would be simply too scared to volunteer—no matter how much the Juireans were willing to pay.

It would be then that Captain Adam Cain, USN, could return to waging war the way he had been trained—straight up and in your face—and not with all this clandestine shit.

* * *

Kroekus—the Silean crime lord—had proved to be a very valuable asset for Adam and his Raiders. He had contacts throughout this side of the Expansion, and he would relay the news of any mass recruiting meetings to General Angar and his Fringe Pirates. The pirates would then send word to Adam’s base on Viemon-2, after which the teams would be dispatched.

Kroekus, for his part, had profited handsomely from his association with the Humans; most creatures like him usually did, able to capitalize on just about any situation.

His current fortunes had changed when the value of Juirean credits began to plummet at the onset of the conflict. With the impending war—and the loss of the Juirean Fleet off the distant planet of Earth—all the trillions upon trillions of beings within the Expansion began to wonder what would happen to their currency if the Humans did win the war? This caused the value of the credits to crash to nearly half their original level in some of the outer Sectors, those closest to the Far Arm. And the Fringe was the first to fall.

Looking for a more stable asset which to tie their economies, the various planets in the Fringe—and elsewhere—began to resort back to their pre-Juirean currencies, which were based mainly of the value of precious metals of some sort. Seeing this, Kroekus began to buy up nearly all the gold supplies he could find. Once he controlled the market, the imaginative Silean began to issue his own gold certificates, which soon developed a thriving underground acceptance as legal tender across a hundred worlds.

The farther the Humans advanced, the more his certificates supplanted Juirean credits. Soon, Kroekus of Silea was the richest being in half the galaxy. And if the Humans did manage to topple the Expansion…well, Kroekus only hoped he lived to see the day.

* * *

Adam and Sherri had only been on Hyben for two days, which should have been just long enough for them to drop down to the surface, disrupt the recruiting meeting, and bolt back off the planet. At least that was the plan.

The two Humans stepped outside the shuttle and into the damp night air. Adam knew where the nearest spaceport was located, but he also knew that getting in and securing another spacecraft wouldn’t be easy. And then there would be the minutes-long transit from the surface and into space, which would leave them vulnerable to any number of assaults from either the Hyben or the Juireans.

He sighed deeply, an expression not lost on Sherri.

“Yeah, not lookin’ too good, is it?” she said.

“Let’s just hope the invasion is going according to plan. If not, then we’re really screwed!”

Chapter 3

Even though Nate Allen had been in space for over four months, he had yet to see anything like the Barrier. He stood on the command bridge of the huge Klin flying saucer and stared dumbfounded at the kaleidoscope of colors before him—just as all the rest of the bridge crew was so enthralled.

From his education and natural scientific curiosity, Nate was aware of the deadly turmoil taking place within the hot nebular gases of the Barrier, as stars burst into existence from forces of heat and gravity that defied imagination. Nonetheless, the scene was an awesome sight to behold.

But now it was time to get down to business. Fleet Admiral Nate Allen knew that the Barrier was the line of demarcation between the Far Arm and the Fringe. This was where they would first enter enemy territory, and the conflict that had been four months in the making, would now begin.

Allen’s fleet of Klin-built warships numbered one-thousand forty-three strong. Originally, the Klin fleet was well over eleven hundred, but then the Klin had inexplicably pulled seventy of them from the fleet, saying they were to return to the main Klin base for other assignments. The Klin refused—politely—to divulge the location of this base or say what these other assignments might entail, which only added to the suspicion most Humans now carried for the Klin and their surrogates, the so-called Saviors.

Klin-Human relations had become a complicated political dance of late, with each party suspecting what the other was doing, just not willing to discuss it openly. By now, the powers on Earth were convinced that it was the Klin who were ultimately responsible for the Juirean attack on the planet, and they were equally convinced that the Klin knew of the Human’s suspicions. But in light of the reconstruction and military assistance the Klin were providing, the leaders couldn’t come right out and accuse the aliens of setting up the entire Human-Juirean conflict.

And the Klin, for their part, were just as pragmatic. They needed the Humans to wage war against the Juireans, knowing full well that if they pulled their assistance, the Human race would be annihilated. If this occurred, then any hope the Klin had of ever exacting revenge against the Juireans for the destruction of their homeworld would be lost.

This strange, unspoken dynamic was not lost on the population in general. In whispered conversations around the world, more people were beginning to question the timing—and convenience—of it all. Once the initial shock of the devastation passed, Humanity looked at the events surrounding the Juirean attack and questions began to be asked.

Nate’s reverie was interrupted by an ensign seated at the forward monitoring screen. “It’s Schwartz again, sir.”

Nate looked at the screen and saw an out-of-place contact light creating a corkscrew pattern far away from the static line of contacts, which marked the location of the main Human fleet.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Lee Schwartz was one of the best pilots in the fleet—and his nephew—he would have long ago had the brash, young Navy lieutenant-commander thrown in the brig….

* * *

A Klin Fleet Vessel Series-A (KFV-A) was much smaller than the massive Juirean Class-5 warships the Human fleet would soon be up against, but it made up for its diminutive stature with remarkable speed and maneuverability. LCDR Lee Schwartz had found his dream machine in the KFV-A, and once out of the atmosphere of Earth, found he could do things in the Klin ship that he could only dream about in his F-35 Lightning II. It was a remarkable craft, yet only one in a series of spaceships the Klin provided.

The Klin ships were divided into various classes of warcraft, based upon their size and function. The KFV-A’s were the smallest with a crew of twenty-five. They were the fighters of the fleet, outnumbering all other classes by a factor of ten. And even though the ‘A’ in the designation referred only to the vessel’s size, the crews preferred to say it stood for ‘Attack,’ which more-appropriately described its mission. It also brought out the machismo in the crews, whether the crewmember was male or female. It didn’t matter. Fighters in this war came in every gender.

Next up the ladder were the KFV-B’s; larger and fewer in number and carrying a crew of forty. Then came the C’s with a crew of ninety, followed finally by the behemoth D-Class ships. The D’s could carry forty KFV-A’s in their holds, however they didn’t serve as carriers. These ships were used primarily for the three R’s—repair, refit and relaxation. They were literal floating cities in space, with large ship’s stores, a movie theater and even a two-lane bowling alley—all improvements added by the Humans, by the way. With travel through space often taking months at a time, the warriors of the fleet needed their down time, too.

Lastly, but not least, were the supply and support vessels, the largest of which were the energy ships. These were flying nuclear power plants that supplied the power modules for all the other vessels. Even though most KFV’s could cover hundreds of light-years between rechargings, the vast distances required for interstellar travel made these ships critically important.

Yes, the KFV was a remarkable craft, yet its only downside—in Lee’s opinion—was the fact that it required a crew to operate. With his F-35, it was just him and his plane. Now he had a crew to consider….

Even though the internal gravity-wells aboard the Klin ship fought continually to compensate for the inertia tied to his wild maneuvers, the computers always seemed to be a moment or so behind. His course changes had very little effect on Lee, since he already knew where he was going. But for his crew, it was a different story.

He chanced a glance at Tim Carlson—the young Savior assigned to his ship—and saw him turning green. Carlson was the man who had trained Lee in the piloting of the KFV—although ‘trained’ was not quite the right word for it. When the time came, Tim had more-or-less just shown Lee where the controls were, and the cocky, young fighter-pilot had taken it from there. The controls of the starship ended up being wickedly simply for the veteran pilot, and in no time, Lee—along with the hundreds of other pilots recruited for the Klin ships—was running circles around his instructor.

At first, he had found this to be a dichotomy: that the trainees could so quickly surpass the trainers. But later, when his uncle Admiral Allen explained more of the situation to him, it suddenly made sense.

Looking at Tim Carlson now, Lee saw the pale hue to his skin and the concerned look in his eyes. Lee pulled the ship out of the spin and leveled out. He would return to the line and let his crew recover. After all, it wouldn’t help morale aboard the ship for his crew to have to clean up vomit from the decks—again!

“Captain to crew,” Lee announced through the 1-MC. “Secure from battle stations. Drill complete. We’re returning to the line.”

Lee heard Carlson babble something under his breath and he turned to face the younger man. “The Klin sure know how to build a spaceship, I’ll give them that.” he said with a smile. Carlson still wasn’t in any condition to speak.

Lee felt sorry for his friend, watching him struggle mightily not to vomit in the direction of his captain. However, Lee smiled a little wider, thinking about just how close he had come to ripping the young man apart, limb by limb, with his bare hands….

* * *

Tim Carlson was what was commonly referred to as a Savior—a Klin recruit who supposedly had been taken from the Earth and taught to help Humanity recover from a potentially devastating attack by the Juireans. He had returned to the planet just after the attack and immediately set about doing what he had been trained to do. While most of the returning Saviors assisted with the reconstruction and recovery efforts from the destruction wrought by the Juireans, Carlson’s job was to train the pilots and crew for the Klin starships, a force that would lead the revenge assault against the evil Juireans. As such, Carlson knew all the systems aboard the Klin ships like the back of his hand, as well as attack and defense strategies that he would pass on to his fellow Humans.

The life of a Savior on Earth at that time was one to be envied. After all, here were a group of adventurous and selfless young men who had volunteered to leave their homes and families and live among the aliens, all the while learning to help Humanity recover from an unimaginable tragedy. Everywhere they went, the Saviors were adored and honored.

And the fact that all the Saviors appeared to be healthy and genetically perfect young studs didn’t go unnoticed by the female segment of the planet’s population. Women waited in line to meet—and to date—a Savior. After all, these were men who had been in space and who associated with aliens, for Christ’s sake. Now they were welcomed back as heroes.

Yes, life was good for the Saviors. At least initially.

* * *

Tim Carlson was twenty-three, an American born and raised in Queens, New York. The neighborhood he grew up in—along with the schools he’d attended—had been wiped clean by the Juirean energy bombs and the resulting conflagration. All his family and friends died in the attack as well; now all Tim Carlson had left was duty to his race.

Lee Schwartz first began to notice that Carlson was a little strange right after he was assigned to his training squad. In normal banter around the hangers and in the barracks, Tim appeared to be very defensive about his background, often mentioning that reminders of his past were just too painful to speak of. That was understandable, but Lee soon found other inconsistencies as well.

It seemed Tim couldn’t carry on a conversation about any past T.V. shows or movies, or any memorable moments in sports, for example. And even though he had left Earth at the age of eighteen, he could not—or would not—talk about any past girlfriends or neighborhood friends when growing up. It was as if his entire past was one deep, dark void; as if his memory had been wiped clean.

Lee’s suspicions grew even stronger once flight training began. Carlson was supposed to be the expert, better than all the others at instructing the military pilots on the intricate operations of the Klin flying saucers. Yet Tim could barely execute a loop maneuver, let alone anything more complicated. Sure, he could tear the ship apart and rebuild it blindfolded, but he was no pilot.

Lee began to reason that the young Savior must have been trained by the Klin to operate the KFV’s as the Klin did. If this were the case, then the aliens weren’t using their craft for even a tenth of their potential, meaning Carlson was not to blame for his obvious lack of skills.

But still, there was something very odd about the young man.

* * *

It was about this time that Lee’s uncle had called him into the Admiral’s office at the Joint Military Command base in Fallon, Nevada—and revealed to him a set of facts that would change his perspective forever.

Fallon had been the U.S. Navy’s Top Gun training base before the attack, located in the mostly-arid desert east of Reno. Because of its remote location, the base had been completely missed by the Juireans when they hit all the major population centers around the world. Since then, the center had been expanded and its mission enhanced. It was now the main base for the Klin Fleet, growing large enough to accommodate the over one thousand Klin saucers, along with all the support and training staff that went with them. The population of the base soon swelled to nearly eighty-five thousand men and women, making it the largest military base on the planet at the time.

The original Klin Fleet had been manned by Saviors, with men like Carlson serving as the pilots and the Recovery-trained Saviors as crew. However, once the reconstruction efforts began, the fleet lost the bulk of its crewmembers, which now had to be replaced with freshly-trained men and women, pulled mainly from the four major armed services, and mostly by Americans. In addition, the Savior-pilots were not to be assigned as line officers—as the actual pilots of the ships—but rather as counselors to the newly-trained pilots and crews. Skilled pilots, such as Lee Schwartz, were in great demand by the combined Human/Klin forces.

And this was just the beginning. Already, there were massive shipbuilding efforts taking place at facilities around the world, like at the newly-rebuilt Newport News Shipbuilding yards in Virginia and the Boeing plants in Washington and South Carolina. The existing Klin Fleet was only the first. Soon a whole new force of Earth-built starships would be taking flight and heading off to join the fight against the Juireans.

Chapter 4

“So what do you know about this Savior, this Tim Carlson guy?” his uncle asked after calling Lee into the inner sanctum of the Human High Command at Fallon. He could tell the Admiral hated to call these men Saviors; it was a sentiment shared by most people these days. But still, Lee was taken aback by his uncle’s odd question.

“He’s pretty strange, but not any more than the others I’ve met, sir.” Lee didn’t know the purpose of the summons; he and his uncle had always tried to maintain a certain level of professionalism and distance regarding their familial relationship.

“You can dispense with the ‘sir’ Lee. We’re all family here.”

Lee was caught off-guard by the comment and knew instantly that something very serious was in the works.

“Lee, I’m going to tell you a story and you must promise to keep it strictly top secret. Can you do that?”

“Of course, sir!” Here it comes—

“Good.” Admiral Allen walked over to a cabinet and opened the door. Inside was a hotel-size refrigerator. Allen opened it, pulled out two Coronas and used a bottle opener to pop the tops. He handed one to Lee. The hot high-desert air of western Nevada was a boom for the sale of beer in the region; luckily most of the beer-brewing companies had survived the Juirean attack.

“First of all, if you’re like the rest of us, you’ve had your suspicions about the Klin and the Juirean attack on the Earth—the fact that the Klin first said they couldn’t stop the attack, and then a few hours later, they do. That’s beginning to raise a lot of eyebrows.”

Lee nodded. He was no idiot; the chain of events was just too close for the Klin story to be believed. But if they could have prevented the attack—and didn’t—that raised a whole new set of concerns….

“Lee, it’s the belief of the President and Admiral Keller that the Klin orchestrated the entire Human-Juirean conflict, and that they have placed spies and surrogates among us to help further their plans.”

Lee’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide at the sudden bluntness of his uncle’s comment. Even though the same unformed suspicions had been percolating in his subconscious for several months, Lee refused to put them into any credible order. Now the Admiral had slapped him right in the face with them—

“I can tell from your silence that you are either stunned by disbelief or you concur with our conclusions.”

“Eh, yes, sir. I’ve had my concerns as well,” Lee stammered. And then it dawned on him: “And the Saviors are their spies!”

“Yes…and no,” Allen said, before taking a long swig from the Corona. “It seems that the Saviors are not what they say they are. In reality, they are Human, but they are not from here. It turns out they were all born off-planet and raised by the Klin from birth. In fact, they’re called 2G’s by the Klin, for Second-Generation Humans.”

“Damn, that explains a lot!” Lee said. “They don’t seem to know fuck-all about sports, or how to play cards….about anything really.”

Nate Allen smiled. “It seems you can raise a Human in an alien environment to turn out to be only quasi-Human, at best,” he said. “Without the day-to-day social interaction with other boys and girls, the Saviors—or 2G’s—have missed out on most of the essential ingredients that make us truly Human, like all the games of Cowboys and Indians we play, as well as the natural competition that takes place among men and women as we grow up. It’s what gives us our drive. The 2G’s have no interest in sports, or girls, or anything else that makes us uniquely Human. They may have been taught all the facts and figures, but that’s where it ends. It seems you can’t train a Human to be Human, just to act like one. That’s something you need to experience firsthand. And that’s where the Klin missed the boat.”

“So Tim was not born on the Earth – that lying bastard!”

“Don’t blame him, Lee. Remember, all he knows about us—and of the Earth—is what the Klin have told him.”

“Yeah, but he’s a threat to the war effort. He works for the Klin, and now you say it’s been the Klin all along who allowed a billion people to be killed.”

Allen came around his desk and sat on the front edge, facing Lee. “The 2G’s are a concern, but not the major one. Our main threats—even more so than the Klin themselves – are the Converts.” Lee could tell from the tone that his uncle capitalized the word ‘Converts’ when he spoke.

“Who are they?”

“They’re actually native-born Humans who have joined the Klin voluntarily, and who don’t advertise their existence as the Saviors do. They are the true spies and infiltrators, and since they were born on Earth—and are as Human as you and me—they’re almost impossible to spot.”

Lee shook his head, and without asking for permission, rose and pulled two more Coronas out of the refrigerator. After handing one to the Admiral, he sat back down on the leather couch and took a long swallow off the fresh, cold beer. “Excuse me, sir, but what the hell is going on here? What are we involved in?”

“I’ll tell you, Lee, it’s a cluster-fuck of major proportions,” said Allen. “It seems we’re smack dab in the middle of a galactic pissing match, and we’re being played by both sides. Our so-called friends are really our enemy, and our main opponent in this war is a galactic empire with over eight thousand planets on their side. If it weren’t for the seriousness of it all, it would be laughable.”

“So what are we to do now, arrest all these 2G’s—as you call them?”

“That we cannot do. The Klin may already suspect we know of their complicity in the Juirean attack, but we don’t want to advertise that fact to them. Arresting all the 2G’s would reveal the Klin as our real enemy and would only cause more problems. If the Klin withdraw, we’d be sitting ducks for the Juireans. And who knows, the Klin just might attack us themselves at that point.”

“So why am I here, Uncle Nate?”

Allen stretched a wide grin at his nephew. “We need you to turn the 2G—Tim Carlson—over to our side. This has already been done on numerous occasions around the world; it’s one reason we know so much about what the Klin are up to. Tim Carlson is a pilot—” Allen held up his hand to stop the protest about to erupt from Lee. “—not a very good pilot, I agree, but he knows the Klin systems better than just about anyone else. Admiral Keller and I have found that most of the 2G’s are actually innocents in this galactic chess game. They didn’t choose to be born off-planet and are as much victims of the Klin’s plot as we are. And we’ve noticed that most of them are actually starving for attention and acceptance by their peers—just like everyone else. Imagine being dropped into a foreign country with no friends or family. You’d do just about anything you could to be accepted by the natives, and I don’t mean as some circus sideshow, like they are now.”

“So what, you want me to become his buddy; maybe set him up on a date with my sister?”

“With Carla?” The admiral laughed out loud. “Hell no! We want him on our side, not running back into space and into the arms of momma-Klin! I don’t think he’s man enough for that one. Not yet.”

“It was a rhetorical question, sir!” They shared a good-natured laugh.

“But seriously, Lee, we need him to feed false reports to the Klin about the progress of our own shipbuilding efforts, and also to identify any Converts he may know of. The President and Admiral Keller are in the process of compiling a list of all the 2G’s and Converts, just in case we have to use it. And as far as we can tell, the Klin are not aware of our operations at Nellis. They think our only shipbuilding programs are at the East Coast facilities and with Boeing. We need to keep them believing that.”

Allen could tell from Lee’s frown that he didn’t know what he was talking about. “I’m sorry, Lee. I keep forgetting you’re not part of the inner circle—until now. Let me fill you in.

“As you’re already aware, the Klin spaceships are pretty sophisticated, but they seem to be missing certain basic capacities and capabilities—namely having to do with their weapon systems. This is understandable, since the Klin don’t seem to be very experienced at waging war. They may be sly, back-handed bastards and political manipulators, but as far as hard-as-nails warriors, they seem to be missing the killer instinct, and their technology shows it.

“What we’ve been doing down at Nellis AFB—outside of Vegas—is add a few new weapons systems to some of the Klin ships, some of the ones that are off-the-books. We’ve installed a new smart-missile system, a rapid-fire cannon and even a few new countermeasures. The techies tell us that most of the defensive systems of both the Klin and Juireans are centered around their energy weapons, and our tests have shown that simple ballistic projectiles can pass right through their shields with little effort.”

“No shit…sir!” No matter how hard he tried, Lee still couldn’t get past the stars on his uncle’s collar; the ‘sir’ was habit by now.

Allen smiled, a sly, devilish expression. “No shit. In close-in action, the Juireans could be in for quite a surprise—and same for the Klin, if it comes down to that.”

“Do you see that as a possibility?” Lee’s voice suddenly turned serious.

Allen mirrored his nephew’s solemn expression. “We may have to dance with the Klin at this time, but the fact remains that they are still the main reason we’re in this mess in the first place. They may not have actually pulled the trigger, but there are still a billion dead Human beings as a result of their action—or more correctly—inaction. That’s not something you can easily ignore. Eventually, it will have to be addressed, one way or the other.”

Lee nodded. He knew his uncle was right. Even though the truth had been revealed to him only minutes before, he fully grasped the complexity of the situation they were facing. It had only been a few short months since the events of November 6th—a date now etched upon the psyche of every man, woman and child on the planet Earth—even more so than December 7th or 9-11.

The date of 11-6 was now one of intense emotional meaning for every person on the planet, no matter their nationality, religion or ethnic background. Humanity had been staggered and stunned, with perceptions regarding the very nature of existence poured into a blender and set on high. No one could tell what was real and what wasn’t; not the politicians, not the military—even religious leaders found it difficult to come up with any lasting comfort for their flocks. Everyone was just going through the motions, trying to convince themselves that what they were doing was making a difference.

And LCDR Lee Schwartz, U.S. Navy, was no different. His sole existence revolved around the need for revenge against the Juireans through military action. And the clock was ticking toward the time when Humanity would begin to push back. Whether that push came against the Juireans or the Klin—or both—Lee really didn’t care. Not anymore.

And no matter how long it took, eventually someone would have to pay.

Chapter 5

Adam and Sherri covered their heads with cloth hoods and headed back toward Lann Hall. As they were leaving the shuttle, Adam got an idea, sparked by the brief conversation Sherri had with the Hyben in line with them earlier that evening. He was hoping to locate that particular Hyben again within the mob of aliens leaving the hall, once the Juirean credits were depleted or the authorities put an end to Adam’s generosity.

The problem for the two Humans was that most Hyben looked alike. This one, however, would be covered in Juirean blood….

Lann Hall was an exception to traditional Hyben architecture. It was box-shaped, having been built by Expansion designers to accommodate the needs of the majority of Primes. Most Hyben buildings were dome-shaped and constructed of mud and rock culled from the debris of the burrowing natives. This potent mixture practically glued itself together, allowing for buildings that reached heights of ten stories or more, made mostly of clay.

Adam and Sherri climbed an external metal staircase on one of the taller domes surrounding the Hall and watched for any sign of a Hyben with a blood-soaked robe. The area outside the Hall was still filled with a mélange of alien creatures, most still irate at the earlier disruption of the recruiting meeting. However, word of the Juirean killings had spread rapidly throughout the crowd; even then some of the creatures still attempted to enter the hall to get their share of the Juirean credits being handed out inside. Times were that desperate on Hyben, and throughout the entire Sector.

As predicted, the party soon came to an abrupt end when several large transports pulled up to the building and two-dozen heavily-armed Hyben climbed out to take up positions near the entrance. A panic started inside the building, and a flood of creatures poured from the main entrance, each not wanting to give back the credits they had just acquired.

The armed beings did their best to corral the mob, but the numbers were too great, and it wasn’t long before Adam spied the tall Hyben with the red splash of blood on his tan-colored robe moving among them. This particular native had more credits than most stuffed in his pockets, and as such, would be quite anxious to vacate the area as quickly as possible.

The Human assassins scampered down the ladder and headed along a parallel street to the one the Hyben was traveling. Lucky for them, he would be easy to spot.

They continued to follow, able to move much faster than the Hyben in the planet’s lighter surface gravity. Occasionally, they would cut through an alleyway and wait for him to pass, confirming his route, before returning to the parallel street. Even though the creature continually glanced behind him for any sign of pursuit, he nevertheless maintained a beeline for his residence.

The taller buildings soon began to thin out, replaced with smaller mounds of dirt with large double doors set within them. These were the entrances to the Hyben living chambers: deep, winding tunnels where the natives and their pods resided.

Adam and Sherri followed more closely now, ducking behind the mounds to remain hidden from the Hyben. Eventually, he came to a particular mound and disappeared through its double doors.

The Humans waited several minutes for other Hyben in the neighborhood to clear out before they approached the door. Adam tested the handle; it was unlocked.

They entered as quietly as possible and found themselves in a large circular room with dirt floors and walls. There were electric lights lining the chamber, with a wide stairway at the opposite end of the room leading down. Drawing their MK’s, Adam and Sherri entered the stairway and began the descent.

About ten meters down, they heard voices, the translation bugs imbedded behind their ears deciphering the Hyben language.

“This is incredible!” someone was saying. “But can we keep them?”

“There was so much confusion there that I’m sure no one will be able to track who took them. I maintain we keep the credits and not say a word.”

“Thank all the Bello Gods! These credits will help—”

“You’re welcome,” Adam said calmly, stepping into the large cavernous room, MK-17 held at the ready.

The group of five Hyben turned toward his voice, their mouths all forming perfect O’s of surprise. They were standing around a large round wooden table, now piled high with the credit-card-shaped Juirean money.

“I’m glad I could help. Now, I suppose, you owe me a favor.”

Adam had only been on Hyben for less than two days and had yet to see a Hyben female in person—although he had heard about them. A normal Hyben male was about a half-meter taller than Adam, but the females were easily twice his height and girth! They were bulky, shrimp-like creatures with three sets of two appendages each lining the front side of the thorax. As they stood staring at each other in stunned silence, Adam finally had a chance to take a good look at a Hyben.

The three sets of appendages were divided into distinct types, with the bottom, shorter arms ending in two very sharp-looking claws. These were used primarily for feeding: cutting and pulling away meat and then stuffing it into an opening located between the two arms that looked like—well—like a giant vagina! As it turned out, the digestive system of a Hyben was completely separate from its speech and respiratory organs, which were positioned above the lower section of the thorax, in the place you’d normally expect to find them. But with this separation came the ability for the Hyben to feed while continuing to breathe and speak at the same time. Adam had experienced around two dozen alien species in his time in the Expansion, and the Hyben were one of the most exotic yet.

The next set of arms above the claws were about twice as long as the lower appendages and ended in tiny three-finger hands. The final set was placed high on the thorax and were about normal arm’s length. These ended with hands made up of two thumbs placed next to each other, and four normal looking fingers.

The head of a Hyben was conical in shape, with a small mouth, no discernible nose and with eyes that looked like black marbles simply glued to the skull. Occasionally, a clear eyelid would flick over the black globes, depositing a coating of a gooey fluid, which tended to flow down and crust on their hard-skinned faces.

The Hyben had long, articulated plates of hardened cartilage covering their backs, and oozing out from between the plates appeared to be the same viscous goo that lubricated their eyes.

Adam had researched the Hyben in the Library prior to his arrival on the planet, and he knew the natives required prodigious amounts of water each day to lubricate their various systems. Their bodies then produced this thick fluid that drained from between their joints and accumulated on the floors of their chambers. The Hyben found this muddy goo soothing on their feet and legs and made no attempt to rid their living quarters of this foul-smelling excretion.

But for Adam, he now found himself standing in nearly five inches of putrid Hyben shit! Even if he had not just barged into the inner sanctum of the Hybens and taken them by surprise, he would have been stunned into momentary inaction himself, simply by the disgusting scene before him—

“It is them!” the small male cried out, “the ones who killed the Juireans!”

The large, dominant female began to move forward; Adam calmly swung the MK over in her direction and her advancement stopped. There were two other females in the chamber, but they huddled together next to another, even smaller male.

The dominant male—the one with the blood-stained robe—stepped forward, addressing Sherri. “Why have you come here? I did as you instructed.”

“It’s okay,” Sherri said, soothingly. “We haven’t come to harm you—or to take away the credits. They are yours to keep.”

The three Hyben females looked at each other and began clicking their lower claws together. They appeared to be excited by Sherri’s statement.

“Then why are you here?” the male asked.

Adam stepped up to the table, lowering his weapon. “Like I said, I need you to do me a favor.”

“No! I cannot help you. You have killed Juireans. We cannot be involved with you in any way.”

Adam scooped up a handful of the credits from the table and let them fall back on the pile through his fingers. “You’re already involved with us, my friend.”

The Hyben seemed to shrink smaller in size. “What do you want of me?”

“First of all, what’s your name?” Sherri said as she stepped forward, lowering her weapon as well. Even though the Hyben were much larger than the Humans, neither Sherri nor Adam had any fear of them.

“It is Poul. My lumic-mate is called Rillia. The others are of no concern.”

“Pleased to meet y’all.” Sherri said with a grin—not a smile—which would have bared her teeth to the aliens, signaling an implied challenge. She continued: “In our conversation at Lann Hall, you mentioned you work at the shipyards, the ones located not far from here. Is that right?”

Adam couldn’t read the eyes of the alien, being as they were simply solid black orbs, but he did sense a calming of sorts in the creature’s demeanor.

“Yes. I have been employed there for nearly ten standard years. Why is this important?”

“Good. What we need is a long-range linking device. We need to communicate with our ship so we can get off the planet.”

“No, I cannot help you. There is a communication center in the yards, but if I help you escape, then I will be complicit in your crimes.”

Adam spoke up, “Listen, Poul, all we need is a communicator. Just get us in the yards and show us where it’s located. That’s all you have to do. Then you can go in peace and return to your happy home.” He was sure the alien wouldn’t pick up on the sarcasm embedded in his remarks.

The Hyben looked at his mates. They began to debate the issue, as the Humans waited patiently for a decision. Adam knew he would get his way; he just needed to let the aliens come to the same conclusion.

As he waited, Adam looked around the alien chamber. There were several large holes dug in the opposite wall—maybe a couple of dozen in total—and for the first time, he noticed several large heads sticking out of them, watching. This was where the offspring lived, and from the look of the holes, most of them were unoccupied. Adam knew the Hyben were prolific breeders; he began to wonder: Why so many empty chambers—?

“It is decided,” Poul announced suddenly, shaking Adam from his thoughts. “I will take you to the shipyards and show you the communication center. But I cannot be involved in helping you make any communications off the planet. That assistance could be traced to me.”

“That’s fine,” Adam said. “Just get us in, we’ll do the rest.”

“Let me change my robe, and then we can leave. The yards are only ten minutes from here by foot.”

* * *

The trio left under the cover of night and headed down the deserted streets, winding their way through the numerous mounds of dirt and mud. The moment the door to Poul’s chambers closed, his lumic-mate, Rillia, picked up the home’s linking module and began to enter in a number.

“Who are you linking to?” asked one of the nin-mates.

“I am notifying the authorities,” Rillia stated without emotion.

“You should not do that,” the other female protested. “Then mol-mate Poul will be captured and possibly even killed.”

Rillia set the comm device on the table. “We have credits enough for over two standard years, and with one less mouth to feed, they could last even longer. By that time, elder-newvin Kiiax will have matured, and mol-mate Poul will no longer be necessary.”

Rillia could see the two nin-mates look anxiously at each other, their nin-claws clicking approvingly. She knew the younger females were attracted to their younger brother, and the idea of a vital, young mol-mate soon made them forget all about Poul. They continued to click and converse as Rillia retrieved the communicator and completed the link. Poul had served his pod admirably for many years, but now it was time for some new sperm to be introduced into the pod. And Kiiax was just the source the females desired.

Chapter 6

On his way to the shipyards, Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that he and Sherri were still knee-deep in some shit.

Even if they were able to contact Kaylor, he still couldn’t conceive of a scenario where the alien could land the Exitor-class starship on the planet and then manage to leave the planet without the whole might of the Juirean forces in this Sector crashing down upon them. The only alternative Adam could think of would be to contact Kaylor now, and then lay low for a while until the heat died down. If they could stay hidden for that time, the Juireans would assume that they had gotten off the planet somehow and would allow the normal shipping routine to return to Hyben. Kaylor could make his landing then.

If Adam had planned for such an eventuality, he might have devoted more time to studying up on the planet Hyben. As it was, he’d only done a cursory amount of research, and mainly to see what advantages he and Sherri would have on the planet with respect to gravity, native strength and coordination—you know the normal superman stuff.

As usual, the two Humans would find no challenge in the shrimp-like natives. Of course, that conclusion didn’t take into account all the other creatures who lived on the planet. Even though Hyben was located only eight hundred light-years farther into the Expansion than the Fringe, it seemed that the closer one got to the more senior member planets of the Expansion, the more homogenous the populations became. The Hybens themselves wouldn’t be a problem, but who knew what other weird and dangerous creatures lurked on the planet?

It wasn’t long before Adam noticed the silhouetted outline of the sprawling shipyard complex. As was expected, the compound was vast, covering over a thousand acres, and dotted with massive hangers, sky-cranes, staging docks and landing fields. The term shipyard, however, was a misnomer. Even though the facility did service smaller starships at their surface compound, its main clientele consisted of Class-3’s and larger, ships that normally didn’t make landfall. As such, during its hay day there had been a constant stream of shuttles flitting back and forth between the yards and the ships in orbit, bringing with them new equipment, supplies and repair crews. At one time, over two hundred separate sorties per shift would ferry workers from the surface to the starships, making this particular facility the busiest in the five Sectors that made up Region Six of the Expansion.

As the two Humans and their Hyben guide neared the main security gate, Adam pursed his lips in disgust at this recent misfortune. If the shipyards were still in full operation, he and Sherri could have easily stowed away aboard one of the shuttles and escaped from the surface. Yet now the yards lay nearly deserted; no shuttle had departed the facility in nearly a month, and the interstellar behemoths that had once dotted the sky far above had all since departed, leaving the shipyard a virtual ghost town.

The Juirean warcraft were gone now, off to join their sister ships for the first head-to-head conflict with the Humans, while most of the commercial vessels had also left, seeking the relative safety found farther into Juirean territory. And even though the Juireans were busy building more starships, the fact that Hyben was so close to the Fringe meant that these new ships may never call upon the planet. Even if the impending battle did go in the Juirean’s favor, the facilities on Hyben were stuck in no-man’s land. If the Juireans prevailed, their forward military bases would be moved into the Fringe. If they didn’t, then the Sector could be easily overrun by the advancing Humans as the Juireans would likely abandon the planet for more defensible positions closer to the Core.

It was obvious to all that the good times on Hyben had passed, and not until the war concluded could the people and affairs of the planet return to any semblance of normalcy.

And then, no one could tell at this time if it would be under Juirean or Human masters.

* * *

Entering the shipyards proved to be a non-event. With so little activity taking place behind the security walls, the guard at the gate simply looked at Poul’s ID and waved them through.

The comm center was located in the main administration building, near the center of the complex. Adam was grateful for the assistance of the Hyben, because all the buildings in this section of the compound looked the same, with their only distinguishing characteristic being signage on each written in Hyben. In Adam’s nearly two years in space, he had never bothered to learn any particular written alien language, not with the translation bug and the Library audio functions providing reliable conversion to English. He would be hopelessly lost without Poul’s help.

The buildings in the shipyards were of universal design and construction—boxlike such as would be found on Earth—not the dome-shaped structures of the native Hybens. During the fifteen minute walk to the admin building, the Hyben began to chatter. He told them that he was one of only a few employees left in the complex, but that he was working half-shifts, primarily keeping the automated systems running in the yards. At one time, over twenty-five thousand Hyben and other races had worked at the facility. Now it was down to about a hundred.

They entered the admin building without incident and rode an elevator to the ninth floor. The communications facilities took up the top three floors of the building, and here they found more security.

As they approached, three bored-looking Hyben uncurled their articulated back shells from the customized chairs they sat in and stood to face them. Adam couldn’t tell from the solid black eyes if there was any suspicion in their expressions, but he did notice all three carried MK’s strapped around their lower torsos, the grips on the weapons oddly shaped to accommodate the three fingers of their mid-arms.

“Stop,” one of the guards commanded. “What is your business here?”

Poul stepped forward. “We are here for a recalibration of the comm signals. Just routine—”

His comments were interrupted by an alarm that suddenly blared from a speaker on the wall next to the security station. One of the Hyben placed a portable communicator to the side of his head and listened intently. The other two guards withdrew their MK’s.

Adam was the first to react, as the flash and ping of three quick electric bolts shot out from Adam’s MK-17. The three Hyben fell to the floor, traces of smoke slowly wafting into the air from the bolt-holes burned in their chests.

Poul turned, his tiny mouth once again forming a perfect ‘O.’ “What did you do that for? I could have got us through.”

Adam shifted the MK and sent a level-two bolt into the speaker on the wall, quieting the alarm. He could hear sirens in the distance. “I think they’re on to us; that didn’t take long. Now who do you think could have warned them about our coming?” Adam stared straight at the Hyben.

“Only my mates knew—”

“Never trust a woman with a pile of money sitting on the table,” Adam said with a smile, looking over at Sherri.

She frowned. “It seems women everywhere are just as dissatisfied with their men as they are back on Earth. Can’t blame ’em for being pragmatic.”

“But why would they report me? They are my mates!”

Sherri looked at Poul, “Maybe you should have brought the credits with you—for insurance. Looks like you’re expendable, Poul.”

“Come on, we don’t have all night.” Adam shoved the still-stunned alien down the hallway. “Find us a terminal.”

“I have only been up here a few times, but I think there are some units at the end of the hall.”

They entered a long room with three rows of bench tables running the length of the room. At intervals along them were dozens of monitors and linking terminals, but not all of the terminals appeared to be operating. The lights and monitors were lit at only three stations.

Adam slipped onto an over-sized chair with an open back, designed to allow for the tail of the Hyben to fit over the seat…and nearly fell through the hole to the floor. He became stuck, needing Sherri’s assistance to pull him free. Having learned his lesson, he balanced on the edge of the seat and took a look at the terminal. It was a basic comm unit, so he punched in a specific set of frequency numbers and pressed the activate button.

“Alpha Team to Watchdog. Alpha Team to Watchdog, come in.”

There was no response. He looked up at Sherri. A frown was chiseled into her forehead.

“Alpha to Watchdog, come—”

“Adam, is that you? I mean, Team Alpha, is that you?” Adam could hear Jym’s high-pitched stammer through the speakers. “Eh, this is Watch—eh—dog.”

Adam shook his head. “It’s okay Jym,” he said into the microphone. “If anyone’s listening, I don’t think they’re going to be fooled.”

“Sorry. I’m not used to some of the terms you want me to use. Are you all right? I have not picked up your proximity beacon.”

“Yeah and you’re not going to either. The shuttle is out of commission and we’re stuck here.”

“Oh no!” Jym was always susceptible to fits of excitability. “We have been monitoring the reaction to your attack. The planet is locked down! How are you going to get away?”

“We’re not—at least for the time being. I need you and Kaylor to lay off the planet for about a week—let’s make it six standard days—until things blow over down here. Then come down to our original landing port. We’ll meet you there.”

There was a slight hesitation on the link before Jym’s nervous voice came back on. “I am confused. What must blow over? Is there a storm on the surface? I am not seeing any on my screens.”

Shit!

“Never mind that,” Adam said impatiently. “Just land in six days and pick us up. Can you do that?”

“If restrictions are lifted by then, we will be there.”

“Good. Now we have to go. Someone has tipped off the cops about us being here. Continue to monitor the newscasts. We’ll attempt to make contact with you again closer to the extraction date, if possible.”

“I am still confused about the weather – and what is a cop?”

“Alpha Team out!”

Frickin’ aliens.

Sherri tugged on his robe. “I hear helicopters outside—or whatever they have here like helicopters. I think they’re surrounding the building.”

Adam could hear the thump, thump, thump of the approaching craft as well. He turned to Poul. “Looks like you’re more involved than you wanted to be, and if you want to survive the night, you’re going to have to help us get out of here.”

“No! I can just turn myself in. I can say I was taken hostage!”

Adam smiled back at him. “Let me ask: who was the other male in your chambers, Poul, the one your mates were all huddled up against?”

Poul’s mouth formed the ‘O’ again. “That is my eldest. He is nearing maturity….”

Sherri put her arm on Poul’s back. “Well it looks like your mates might be looking to replace you with some young blood. Do you think that’s a possibility?”

Poul’s back shell appeared to shrink some, as he slumped in his posture. “Yes, I can see that now. My mates have been unhappy with me recently and they have been spending more time with Kiiax.”

“I don’t think they’ll support your story about being taken hostage. They’ve got all the credits now, and the young stud. Like I said before, I think you’re expendable.”

“That is a cruel thing to say…but I agree.”

Adam stood up. “Good. I’m glad that’s settled. Now can you tell us if there’s a way out of here?”

Poul was silent for a few moments. “I suppose we could go through the Baths.”

“What are those?” Adam asked as he hustled the native toward the door.

“They are below us, underground. We Hyben use them much of the time, even though the other non-Hyben workers tend to shun them.”

“Why?”

“I do not know. It is quite puzzling.”

“Can we get there from inside the building?”

“Possibly, but I would not take the elevator or the stairways. We could get trapped in there when the authorities enter the building.”

“Good thinking, Poul. Lead the way.”

Chapter 7

The Hyben took them to a large double-panel opening in the side of the hallway, telling them this was an access to what he called the building’s carrier-shoot system. The system turned out to be an intricate dumbwaiter setup used in place of freight elevators for the building. Within the large metal tunnels—hidden within the walls of the building—ran a series of slowly moving metal boxes, conveniently large enough for the Hyben to crawl into. Adam and Sherri squeezed into a second box, and they all began the journey through the maze to points unknown.

From inside the metal-lined tube, the Humans heard the sounds of running and excited calls as what seemed like a hundred beings stormed into the building and began to fill the elevators and stairwells. Luckily, no one was interested in checking the carrier-shoots.

Eventually, the three fugitives were delivered to the lowest point of the conveyor system and Poul climbed out of his box, followed by Adam and Sherri. The pods swung around and began their rise back into the building.

They were in a large, dark and dank room. There was a loud motor to the left that appeared to be running the dumbwaiter system, and a long hallway leading to the left. The walls were lined with sweating brick and a thick coating of moss and algae. The place smelled like a sewer.

“Damn, Poul, it stinks down here,” Adam said, brushing imaginary flies from his face.

“I differ with your opinion. The Baths are quite relaxing for us Hyben.”

“So where are they, these baths?” Sherri asked, her face contorted into an expression of disgust.

“This way; I’m sure once you’ve experienced them you will have a differing opinion as well.”

About fifty meters down the long hallway, Poul led them through an open portal. At the opposite end of this new room was a large, dark hole in the floor. Poul turned to the two Humans. “This way, follow me.” And then the large Hyben plunged head first into the dark opening.

Adam and Sherri looked at each other. Sherri was the first to speak, “I’m not going in there. Who knows what’s at the other end.”

Adam turned toward the exit; already he could hear the sounds of movement at the other end of the hallway. The authorities had apparently discovered their escape route and were closing in. “We can try to fight our way out…or we can follow the Hyben.”

Sherri shook her head while letting out a long sigh. Then she turned away from Adam and disappeared into the dark opening—with the word ‘shit!’ trailing off as she fell deeper into the abyss.

Then Adam, too, nose-dived into the dark, ominous opening….

* * *

Adam was sliding in the dark, his face showered with smelly, slimy goo scraped off of the surface of the steeply sloping tunnel. Suddenly he burst into the open, with a bright light illuminating his path. What he saw in front of him caused a sharp inhale, resulting in a clump of the gooey mess being sucked into his mouth. He was heading for a ramp, one rising steeply up in front of him…and ended in mid-air.

He rode up the ramp and off the end—like a ski jumper—flying through the air, his arms flailing. Then he splashed down, not in a pool of refreshing water, but rather in a lake of thick, putrid goo. The pool wasn’t deep, and once he found his footing, Adam rose up, with his head and shoulders out of the liquid.

He gagged and began spitting the foul-tasting gunk out of his mouth. To his right was more coughing. He looked to see Sherri standing not too far from him, pulling her fingers through her hair, attempting to dislodge globs of green and black matter from her once-blonde hair. She glared at him, her face spotted with globules of goo.

“It’s all in my nose and my mouth!” she screamed at him. Adam coughed some more and ran his hands over his face, attempting to keep the offensive goo out of his eyes.

Just then, Poul surfaced next to him. “Is it not glorious?” the alien asked, as his six appendages spread the viscose fluid over the front of this body and his face. He appeared to be almost intoxicated by the sticky, foul-smelling mess.

“It’s disgusting!” Adam snapped back. “How do we get out of here?”

The Hyben stood silent for a moment, looking insulted, letting large droplets of the goo flow down his body. “You are just like all the other non-Hyben. You do not know a good thing when you’re swimming in it. But over here; we can get out that way.”

Adam and Sherri slogged after the Hyben, who didn’t seem to have any trouble navigating through the thick liquid. They came to a series of small steps under the surface—Adam tripped on the first step and fell face-first back into the putrid mess. They stepped out of the pool and into another room. Poul motioned with his fore-arm. “There are water showers over there if you wish to clean off.” He made no move toward the showers himself. Instead, Adam saw the plates of his back carapace vibrate slightly, squeezing more of the goo out from between the plates. Adam thought he would vomit.

Sherri ran past him and activated the powerful jets of fresh water in the first shower station she came to. Adam was only a step behind. They feverishly scrubbed and washed their fully-clothed bodies, with Adam also rinsing off his MK and flash rifle. Luckily, the bolt launchers were more-or-less impervious to water damage, but he still wanted to get the smell off of his weapons—if possible.

While still in the shower, Adam called over to Poul: “Where to from here?”

“There is an exit to the outside. It comes out in a hanger next to the administration building. I still cannot understand why you do not enjoy this.”

With their clothing soaked with sulfur-smelling water, Adam and Sherri followed the dejected Hyben up a long series of steps until they reached a small room at the far end of an enormous hanger. Holding their weapons at the ready, the Humans cautiously entered the chamber, looking for any threats. The building was empty, but Adam knew the authorities were right behind them, and the trail of dripping water from their clothing wouldn’t be hard to follow. Once their route was discovered, a simple radio call would send a squad of armed Hyben into the hanger.

“We’re just improvising here, Poul, but is there anywhere we can hide out nearby?”

The Hyben’s head made a weird wobbling motion, causing Adam to recoil slightly. “I cannot think of a place. The Mulinni—our police force—will keep looking throughout the compound. They will expect us to go back into the town.” He was becoming very agitated.

“What’s on the other side of the yards, away from the town?”

“The jungle, but that is dangerous and impassable. Hiba vipers and other nasty creatures reside there.”

Adam looked at Sherri and grinned. “Sounds perfect; they wouldn’t think to look for us there.”

“But I hate snakes!” she protested.

“Don’t sweat it. Cooked right, they’re quite tasty.”

Just then an old saying popped into Adam’s head, a variation on a quote from the bible, actually: Yea thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil—’cause I’m the meanest son-of-a-bitch in the valley!

Chapter 8

“Adam Cain, are you certain?”

The Juirean Overlord nodded at the question posed by the most supreme Juirean of them all, Council Elder Hydon Ra Elys.

“Yes, my Lord. Several witnesses have verified the name, and the physical description we have confirms it as well. Although reports place him at three other locations at once, this sighting appears to be the most reliable. We also discovered a disabled shuttle not far from the scene of the attack, so there is a strong possibility he is still on the planet.”

Hydon thought for a moment. If this was indeed Adam Cain—the leader of the Human terrorists—then all efforts must be made to either capture or kill him. This was what Fleet Marshal Relion’s counter-insurgency group had been assembled to accomplish, yet until now they had not had any significant impact on the activities of Cain and his Raiders—as they called themselves. If the Human was still on Hyben, then the Juireans could drop a net over the planet and send in all necessary resources to find him.

“Lord Relion, have your teams converge on Hyben. I do not care if you have to excoriate the planet and kill every living thing there—I want Adam Cain either dead or captured. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly, my Lord, yet if there are substantial civilian casualties, it may not play well politically.”

“Let me worry about that. You just bring me the heart of Adam Cain, beating or otherwise.”

* * *

Juirean Overlord Kackil Fe Nulon received the communication with an air of detached inevitability. Forward scouts had detected the Human fleet at the edge of the Barrier, entering Sector 17 precisely where expected. As the senior Juirean in the Fringe, he understood his role in the upcoming encounter, and he would do what was necessary. It was the only way to assure victory in the long-run.

The Juirean fleet had assembled at the edge of the Void, near Melfora Lum, and consisted of just over two hundred first-line Class-4 and Class-5 battlecruisers, with a few Class-3’s thrown in as well. It was a formidable force, one which would have withstood any assault within the Expansion over the past thousand years. And yet it was only one-quarter the size of the fleet that had been utterly destroyed by the Humans off their homeworld of Earth. As such, Kackil had no illusions as to the outcome of the impending battle.

With the main monitoring station destroyed by Human saboteurs two months ago, the Overlord had to rely on scout ships to detect the incoming Human fleet. That report had been received only minutes before, showing a force of over one thousand enemy ships entering the Void and heading his way. Initially determined to be much smaller vessels than his battlecruisers, he nonetheless could not underestimate the firepower that each of the Human ships carried. In fact, he had been surprised—even shocked—to hear that the ships the invaders manned had been designed and built by the thought-to-be-extinct Klin, a race of beings whose memory haunted the dreams of every young Juirean.

It had been over four thousand years since the days of The Reckoning, a time when the Juireans had performed genocide on the Klin race. Since then, a sort of racial guilt permeated the Juirean consciousness over the extermination of three billion Klin, which came without warning or mercy. But The Reckoning had been necessary—all Juireans knew this—as revenge for the senseless killing of millions of their own people during the Unification Wars, which were the direct result of Klin lies and deception.

Yes, the destruction of an entire race of intelligent beings was horrific on the surface. Yet the Klin deserved what they got. And throughout the millennia, countless Juireans made a tenuous peace with their conflicted emotions regarding the event.

Even then, the Juireans knew a few of the Klin had survived, and now—after four thousand years of silence—they’ve reemerged as allies of the savage Human barbarians. Kackil had studied the reports provided by the Council, and he knew the Klin were still few in number, serving more as technical advisors to the Humans rather than as active participants in the battles to follow. Still, with the scientific wizardry of the Klin—the basis for the entire technological foundation of the Expansion—this meant the Humans would have the most-advanced starships ever built, along with their accompanying weapon systems.

So even small in stature, the warships of the Human/Klin fleet were not to be taken lightly.

In face of this reality, the Juirean Council had offered the Overlord with two very distinct battle plans for the upcoming confrontation, and it would be Kackil’s decision, made in the heat of battle, to determine which to follow.

Kackil had read with growing anger the report detailing the battle that had taken place off the Human’s homeworld. It was obvious that the Juirean fleet had been tricked, and not afforded the opportunity to engage the Humans in head-to-head combat. Instead, Overlord Yan’wal and his fleet had been ambushed by the Humans, waiting in orbit already in dark status. The fleet had been attacked by ships previously undetected and fired upon from point-blank range. His brother Juireans never had a chance to fight back.

So the question had not been answered: What would have been the outcome if the fleet had been forewarned and prepared for battle? The answer to that question was Kackil’s foremost objective in the upcoming engagement. This would be the first time the Humans—in their Klin warships—would face a Juirean fleet fully prepared for battle. The Council—indeed the entire Expansion—would be quite anxious to learn the truth.

Nevertheless, Overlord Kackil was frustrated that this forthcoming battle was being treated more as an experiment rather than a major event in Juirean history. Instead of concentrating all his energies on actually winning, Kackil was tasked with collecting data which would be used to plan future engagements. For his part, Kackil wanted to end the war right here and now and not bother prolonging the conflict. Yet the powers on Juir had already concluded that his defeat was inevitable.

Which brought the Overlord to the Council’s second option for the battle, should a complete victory not play out.

The Council reasoned that with Earth located two-thirds of the way out in the Far Arm, nearly fourteen-hundred light years from the Fringe, the Human supply lines would be stretched to the breaking point with their arrival in Sector 17. And with no established stellar empire of their own from which to draw support, the Human fleet currently entering the region would be all the combatants the Humans could muster against the incredible might and unlimited resources of the Expansion.

So the Council gave Kackil a choice. If the initial battle did not result in an immediate and overwhelming victory for the Juireans, he was then ordered to withdraw his forces farther into the Expansion. There he would stop periodically to engage the advancing Human fleet, picking off more and more of their ships—while stretching their supply lines even further—as each battle progressed. At some point in the strategic retreat, the Humans would have suffered such attrition that they could be easily destroyed by a reinforced Juirean fleet.

The ultimate battle plan made sense, and the defeat of the Human invaders was inevitable, Kackil conceded. Yet it was Kackil’s reputation that was at risk. Constantly retreating in the face of the enemy was not the Juirean way. Whether or not the record would reflect the overall logic in the campaign remained to be seen. His only true salvation would come with a quick and decisive victory over the Humans—right here in the Fringe.

Whether that outcome was a reality or not would be known to all in about seventy-two standard hours.

Chapter 9

Most of the twenty-four men and four women in the wardroom had shuttled over to Admiral Nate Allen’s flagship earlier that day, and consisted of two admirals, an Air Force general and all of his squadron commanders. The occasion was serious, and even though none of the military personnel in the room had been in this particular situation before, they did their best to hide their anxiety.

In modern warfare, it didn’t take four months to reach the ultimate point of engagement. All this delay—from departure to battlefield—provided more than enough time for the officers to build up doubts and concerns regarding the outcome. This was natural; Allen didn’t want commanders without imagination. But now, on the eve of the first heads-up confrontation with the aliens, the admiral had his work cut out for him, as he attempted to temper the nerves and steel the resolve of all in the room.

In actuality, his task wasn’t that difficult. These were military professionals, who although they respected the concept of death, they didn’t fear it. In fact, after such a long lead-up to the fight, they were all chomping at the bit for some action.

However, this fight would be like nothing they’ve ever experienced.

“All right, let’s get this meeting started,” Allen said with good-natured charm. Immediately, the light chatter died down and a number of coffee cups were placed on the long, gray-metal table.

“First off, I have to say I’m encouraged by your enthusiasm. Going into battle can test the will and resolve of even the strongest amongst us, and this upcoming conflict is unique. The field of battle, the forces we’re going up against, and even the nature of the enemy itself, is still mostly a mystery to us. Even though we do have Klin intelligence to guide us, this is virgin territory for Humanity. As such, it’s been virtually impossible to formulate detailed battle plans prior to our arrival in theater, and as the fight continues, our plans will naturally evolve. All of us need to be prepared for an ever-changing battlefield.”

Allen smiled and lifted his coffee cup to his lips. When he continued, he looked to his right at Admiral Howie Levin. “As all of you know, I have been put in overall command of the fleet. You also know I come out of SOCOM, which is more adept at small-unit operations, not big-ass battles like the one we’re about to start here. As such, I’m more than willing to turn over the day-to-day operational battle control and planning to Admiral Levin, who has vastly more experience with large-scale operations such as this. Admiral….”

Howie Levin was a studious-looking man, rail-thin with almost non-existent grey hair and dark brown eyes that seldom blinked. He had been in the Navy for thirty-two years, mostly in surface ops, having once commanded the USS Ronald Reagan. He was known as a master tactician with an unflappable demeanor, and if it hadn’t been for Nate Allen’s relationship with the JCOS Admiral Keller, Levin would have been placed in overall command of the fleet from the get-go. Yet Levin never questioned the decisions of the higher brass—of which there were few any higher than he.

“Thank you, Admiral Allen,” Levin said without emotion; he simply rose from his seat and activated a large screen on the wall behind where Allen sat at the head of the table. On the screen was a diagram of the Fringe, with graphic representations of its twelve habitable planets. Near the top of the screen—and fourth in the line of planets—was Melfora Lum, the capital world of the region.

“As you’ve been briefed, the Juirean fleet is massed near this planet, and according to both Klin intelligence—plus the Human assets we have in the area—is around two hundred ships in strength. As best we can tell, these are all top-of-the-line warships, so even though we out number them nearly five-to-one, they still pose a considerable threat.

“As far as tactics of the enemy go, we have reliable data that the Juireans prefer to form static lines of attack and defense, which we intend to use to our advantage. Our fast-attack squadrons will attempt to cross the ‘T’ at the outer limits of their lines, concentrating fire at the narrowest point. We don’t want to allow any large segment of the enemy lines to concentrate fire on our ships. Do your best to maintain the smallest possible profile to the enemy guns and attack in threes, so as to provide the most cover.

“Also, at the same time, we have to be aware that this is a three-dimensional battlefield, and that the enemy may come at you from any direction and from any angle. Just be aware.

“It has also been reported that the Juireans seldom retreat from battle. This has something to do with their cultural pride, which again, is something we can use to our advantage.”

“Since the number of enemy ships is quite a bit fewer than our forces, I will initially leave squadrons twelve and higher in reserve. Commander Schwartz and Captain Burton will take operational control of the initial attacking units. Remember, however, that we want to hold the sixteen hybrid ships back until we can determine the strength and effectiveness of the Juirean defenses. We don’t want to reveal our ace-in-the-hole unless we have to.” Levin stretched out a devious smile at his last comment.

Levin scanned the anxious faces of the others seated at the table. The talk of actual strategies and tactics in the face of battle was serving as an aphrodisiac for the warriors in the room; there was almost a giddy exuberance in their expressions.

After a moment, Levin continued. “We’re all professionals in this room, so I don’t have to point out to you that the earlier victory against the Juireans was more of a fluke than a statement of our superiority. This upcoming battle will be our first encounter with a force fully expecting the engagement. We will also be piloting interstellar spaceships for the first time in battle, and against an enemy with thousands of years more experience than we have. This is some serious shit, gentlemen. Just stay frosty, and I know you’ll all perform at your best.

“Jump-off is at oh-four-thirty hours. Now let’s go out and make our planet proud!”

Chapter 10

As the Juirean Fleet Commander in the Fringe, Senior Guard Hoan Ga Chold was an experienced combat commander, having participated in the Ranqil Federation Uprising sixty-two years before. That conflict had lasted nineteen days and totaled two major space battles. He’d been a ship’s third-captain at the time, and as such was not involved in the overall planning and execution of the campaign, so his experience with tactics and strategy was not all that extensive.

He was, however, the only living Juirean Guard in the Expansion who had command experience during a military campaign. This limited experience made him uniquely qualified to lead the makeshift Juirean fleet against the invading Human forces.

Hoan’s position as Fleet Commander also revealed a major weakness in the Juirean military hierarchy: namely the lack of anyone with actual combat experience. Unfortunately, this was a consequence of several hundred years of relative peace within the Expansion. Most of the conflicts in the past had been the result of initial encounters with new worlds not familiar with the empire. Recently there had been a slowdown in Juirean exploration and colonization, and now the consequences of this ‘peace-dividend’ were becoming apparent.

Hoan had been groomed since birth to serve in the Juirean Guard. He was military through and through, disciplined and serious, exposed to all the theory and philosophy regarding the practice of war. And now, sixty-two years since his one and only exposure to the realities of war, he was desperate to recall any of the lessons he might have learned from that experience. Unfortunately, the lessons were not coming; the conflict had been too short and too long ago to be of any value to him now.

And that was why Senior Guard Hoan was sitting in the command chair of his flagship, looking out at the illusionary emptiness of space, second guessing the plan he and Overlord Kackil had devised. He knew that a battle of this size and complexity was purely an exercise in military theory, and with the Human’s short history of unpredictability, Hoan was having trouble maintaining confidence in his plan.

Even though he knew the computers had already tallied the foreign contacts dotting his main tac screen, Hoan couldn’t help but try to manually count them himself. One-thousand thirty-four contacts, divided into three major groups. He let out a deep breath. His fleet level now stood at two-hundred nineteen ships, all front-line battlecruisers with the most powerful weapon systems in the Expansion. Still, it was an overwhelming numerical advantage for the invaders.

The Juirean plan called for the battle to take place within the Melfora Lum system, sandwiched between an asteroid field and a large gas giant. With such a narrow field of battle the Human numerical superiority would be muted, but not totally negated. The battle would be joined, and counting the enemy contacts on the screen, Hoan knew instinctively that the second part of their plan would have to be initiated. That realization made him feel a little better.

The idea of a Juirean victory in this initial meeting with the Humans had been entertained by the powers that be—briefly. But now, in light of the swarm of blue contacts on his screen, he knew that was not a possibility.

So all he had to do at this point was make it look convincing….

Chapter 11

Lee Schwartz couldn’t believe where he was—this was like something out of Star Wars.

Less than a year ago, he had been living out his life on the only world he knew of, yet like most boys growing up in America, he’d spent much of his childhood fantasizing about glorious battles in outer space, with ray guns and light sabers. And now, here he was, over a thousand light-years from Earth, staring out at an enormous Jupiter-like planet with a thin, brightly-lit ring of yellow and orange. He was also in the pilot seat of an alien-built flying saucer, his small crew of twenty-five at their stations and about to enter a desperate fight against the forces of a vast galactic empire.

In one way, it was a dream come true; in another—a nightmare.

Lee was operational commander of Eagle Squadron, with ninety KFV-A’s making up thirty three-ship units. Each unit was configured into a triangular formation, with a lead ship and two wingmen. Lee’s assignment was to feign a head-on attack of the Juirean lines, and then to sweep to port, toward the asteroid belt. He would then cut across the edge of the enemy lines—crossing the ‘T’ in the vernacular of sailing ship days—while his ninety ships concentrated fire on the one or two Juireans at the narrowest point in their lines. The Juireans would alter their profile to confront his forces. Once they broke formation, Falcon Squadron would penetrate straight through the center of the regrouping aliens and split their forces.

The Juireans were blocking the space between the gas giant and the asteroid belt, having formed four long lines of capital ships, stacked one upon another, and with shorter lines capping the top and bottom of these four lines. Even though the distances involved didn’t allow for the ships to be visible to Lee and his squadron, their locations were brightly illuminated on the forward tac screen, along with the half-dozen smaller monitors at the various bridge stations.

There were six people on the bridge with Lee. Four other crewmembers manned the generator room, five were on the damage control gang, with the remaining ten divided among the two weapons-control stations. Lee’s ship was one of the few in the fleet that had been fitted with additional armament, namely the good-old-fashion 90-mm cannon and Hellfire missiles. The missiles had been modified to carry liquid fuel, allowing them to operate in the vacuum of space. Even though he carried this extra firepower, Lee’s orders were not to use them unless necessary. The brass wanted to see how the KFV’s handled themselves against the Juirean energy weapons before revealing anything special to both the enemy and the Klin. In a few short breaths from now, they were about to find out.

The bridge was quiet as the ship approached the Juirean lines head-on, their position represented on the tac screen, and flanked to the right by Sammy Burton’s mirror forces. At the right moment, the squadrons peeled away from each other and Lee accelerated.

Within moments they were near the edge of the first Juirean battle line—and to his relief—the Juireans didn’t attempt to change course to form a broader profile to his attack. Just then he felt the first jolts as his ship opened fire on the target ships.

The invasion of the Juirean Expansion was underway.

The enemy was still too distant to be visual, but he knew the maximum range of the bolts was somewhere around thirty-seven hundred miles, with optimum strength rated at around twenty-five hundred. The bolts left his ship traveling at around three-hundred thousand miles per hour, so even though they consisted of a single intense concentration of electricity, they appeared as streaks shooting out from his ship, like beams from a laser. The bolts were also strictly ballistic, with no guidance once released. At the speed they traveled, impact was only seconds away.

In the distance, Lee could see circles of light bursting forth as the bolts struck the diffusion shields of the Juirean ships. The area around his own ship suddenly flashed bright as well, as bolts from the Juirean vessels impacted the shields of the KFV. The screens held, and he swept past the line and out of range, heading for the next row of Juirean battleships. Behind him, his string of warships continued to pour a constant torrent of electric bolts at the lead Juirean ships until Lee noticed two of the red circles disappear from his screen. The Humans had their first kills.

On the screen, Lee saw the long Juirean lines begin to break at the center, with each half swinging around to face the parade of Human ships speeding by. The enemy began to move forward as a unit, forcing Lee to steer more to his left, maintaining the safest distance from the massive Juirean ships. As the aliens reformed to face the Humans they unleashed such a barrage of fire that it looked like a solid wall of light coming his way.

The bolts hit, knocking his ship even farther to the left. Nine of his ships disappeared from his active screen, while twelve others reported damage sufficient to force them out of the line and back to the main fleet.

Several more Juirean targets disappeared from his screen.

Sammy was having similar success on the opposite side of the lines, and with similar casualties. The plan was working; the Juireans had separated their lines of defense, opening up a channel in the center of their defensive block. Soon, a force of two hundred Human ships would penetrate the center and form double attack lines, one to the left and one to the right. The Juireans would be split into two clusters, with Humans surrounding them on all sides. Then depending on the attrition of the Human forces, Admiral Levin would either let the existing forces squeeze the Juireans into submission or bring up additional forces to overwhelm the aliens.

Everyone in the fleet knew the outcome of the battle was a foregone conclusion. The only question came from not knowing how many of the Human forces would be lost. The crews had been told the Juireans do not retreat, so it was looking to be a bloody battle—for both sides. But Lee and his crews would learn a lot. They would come out of this engagement battle-hardened and experienced. The next fights wouldn’t be any easier, just the expectations would be more realistic.

Lee’s ship continued to unleash barrage after barrage of bolts at the wall of aliens slowly moving his way. On the tac screen, he saw the first traces of the main Human force moving toward the Juireans. Soon the enemy would have to give their attention over to this new threat. At that point, the punishment his squadron was taking would be lessened—

Just then a loud and excruciating sound came from the port side of his ship. Alarms sounded, as lights flickered and sparks shot out from the control boards behind him.

“Report!” he called out.

“We’re taking damage to the port perimeter, hull breaches in a number of locations,” cried Tim Carlson from his bridge post. Tim knew the intimate operations of the ship better than anyone and was in the best position to evaluate the damage. “Damage control teams are being deployed. Port weapons battery is offline.”

“Send the port weapons crew to assist with DC,” Lee commanded. “What’s causing the damage?”

“We’re passing through a field of microscopic meteorites. The forward field is being absorbed by the well, but others are passing through the diffusion screens and ripping through the hull.”

“I’m reducing speed; that should limit the damage.”

“If the Juireans don’t blast us to dust when we do,” said Latoya Scott, Lee’s navigation officer.

“Anyone else in the squadron reporting damage?” Lee asked the room.

Steve Sexton, his communications officer turned toward his captain. “Most of the forward units are reporting damage. The rear units are turning back. Looks like the Juireans herded us into the dusty edge of the asteroid belt on purpose.”

Lee watched the forward tac screen as the four stacked lines of Juirean battlecruisers continued to close on their position. He made a decision.

“I’m turning toward the asteroids. We’ll use the forward gravity-well as a vacuum for the particles and clear a path ahead of us.”

As the disk-shaped Klin saucer turned to port, the buffeting from the particles decreased, but now he was ass-end to the advancing Juireans.

Where is Falcon Squadron? They better engage soon.

On the screen, Lee saw the blue-indicated contacts of his supporting squadrons move farther into the gap down the middle of the Juirean lines. The two hundred Human ships passed cleanly into the opening, then began to separate, with multiple squadrons beginning their attack on the rear of the Juirean lines. The Juirean advance slowed, as rear units broke off their pursuit of Lee to confront this new threat.

Once out of range of the Juireans, Lee slowed his ship down to a crawl, minimizing any further damage from the unseen meteorites.

“Damage report; how are we holding up?” he called out.

“The breaches are being sealed, but the port weapons are still down and we’ve suffered damage to one of the generators,” Carlson answered immediately. “Well intensity is down by thirty percent.”

“Quarterback to Eagle Command, report,” an announcement blasted out from the comm speakers. “Condition update.”

“Eagle Command to Quarterback. We’ve entered the outer edges of the asteroid field and have suffered damage to our weapons, hull and generator. I will be assembling the other damaged ships at fallback position L-151 for assessment and to commence repairs.”

“Understood. Repair units are standing by.”

Oh well, Lee thought, that didn’t go exactly as planned….

Just then a remarkable thing began to happen. One-by-one, the red Juirean contacts on the tac screen flared bright and disappeared. The momentum of the flares grew exponentially, until—in the span of about thirty seconds—the Human forces found themselves completely alone on the battlefield.

Lee was on the comm with Command immediately. “What happened to them?” he asked without protocol.

The answer that came back was from Admiral Levin himself. “The Juireans activated deep-gravity wells and have bugged out. The gravity waves have them departing the system.”

“I thought they never retreated, sir?”

“That was our belief as well. Commander, continue to the repair coordinates; I will send other units to pursue the Juireans.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Lee turned to face his stunned bridge crew. “So much for military intelligence. But in any case, it looks like we survived this battle.” Even though his words were encouraging, the faces of the bridge crew did not reflect his confidence. Something wasn’t right.

Chapter 12

Admiral Levin called an immediate meeting of his senior advisors. In attendance was Michael Rittenberg, the 2G/Savior tactical advisor to the fleet. He had been trained by the Klin to think like a Juirean and to attempt to anticipate their every move. He’d also been turned by Admiral Keller and his people and now worked for the good guys. All eyes fell on him as the other six men took seats around the table in the ready room.

“What just happened, Rittenberg?” Admiral Levin asked, not hiding his anger. Even though he welcomed the conclusion of the battle, he didn’t like surprises. “Reports show the J’s had only lost fifteen ships out of two-hundred nineteen before they bugged. We lost twenty-two, with another seventeen damaged enough to be out of the fight. At that rate, the aliens could have caused considerable damage to the fleet.”

“I don’t know, Admiral,” was Rittenberg’s embarrassed reply. “All reports we have indicate that the Juireans do not retreat, but there have been so few battles in recent history for the reports to be reliable. I would think this would be good news, sir.”

“Normally it would, but now we have a nearly-intact alien fleet moving farther into Juirean territory where it will invariably be reinforced. And we’ve suffered more losses than anticipated, especially counting the damaged units.”

“This may be their plan, Howie,” Admiral Allen spoke up. “They may be looking to strike and retreat, while whittling us down a little more with each encounter. After all, we’re a long way from home, and they’re moving closer to their high-ground.”

Levin nodded. “That may be true, but do you honestly think the Juireans believe us to be that naïve as to fall for such an obvious trap?”

“This is an alien race we’re talking about here, Admiral,” Allen replied. “And from their history, they haven’t had to use too much strategy in the past to defeat their enemies. They may be operating from their own simple assumptions, not anticipating that their plan is obvious to us. The Human race does have considerably more experience with the tactics of war than they do.” He looked at Rittenberg. “That’s why the frickin Klin picked us in the first place, wasn’t it?”

Rittenberg was embarrassed by the glare from Allen. Even though he was one of the most senior 2G’s to be turned by the native Humans, he still felt intimidated being in the presence of what he called real Humans. No matter how thoroughly the Klin trained him to pull off the deception of being one of them, their efforts had fallen woefully short in so many ways. Rittenberg was like a child among adults, constantly learning what it meant to be truly Human.

“The Klin have always counted on your instincts towards war,” Rittenberg said. “I believe they did their best in analyzing Human nature and abilities. But it’s obvious that their forecasts are lacking, not only with regards to Humans, but the Juireans as well.”

Allen smirked and shook his head. Even though he knew Rittenberg was now on their side—and had been feeding misleading reports to the Klin for months—he still couldn’t get over the belief that this man was a traitor to his own race.

Allen looked back at Levin, “Howie, this first encounter is a great opportunity to learn not only how the Juireans plan to prosecute this war, but also to speculate on what the Klin’s end-game is as well. It’s obvious that the Juireans want us to follow them deeper into their territory, as they weaken our forces with each engagement. They probably believe that this fleet is the extent of the forces we have to bring against them. In that regard, they’re correct—for now. But unless they have spies back on Earth, they can’t know about the second fleet under construction—with the help of the Klin—or the enhanced units we’re building under the noses of the Klin. But we’re still several months away from that fleet deploying.”

Allen looked down at the casualty and damage reports from the recent battle, and his devious, Special Forces mind began to click. The germ of an idea was growing. “Why don’t we let the Juireans succeed with their plan?” he said with a smile.

“Excuse me, Nate—but what the hell?” Levin said.

“Just think: the Juireans expect us to follow them, probably stopping now and then to inflict more damage on our fleet. At some point, however, they will feel they have enough of an advantage, and will make a stand designed to destroy the entire fleet—or what’s left of it. Let’s let them do it. Let’s engage them, but rather than have actual losses, let’s pump up our casualty numbers to a point where the J’s believe they are really taking a heavy toll on our forces.”

Levin finally returned the sly smile. “I see where you’re going with this. We pull units out of the subsequent battles at a much higher rate, but then keep them in reserve for this final battle the aliens have in mind. We flip their strategy right back at them.”

“Exactly. At some point they may think they’re going up against a couple hundred of our remaining forces, and then we overwhelm them with our reserve units. Hell, this war could be over a lot sooner than we anticipated.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Nate. The Juireans have so much more capacity at their disposal than we do. And what about the Klin?”

“That variable is still unknown. If we do defeat the Juireans—at least to a point where the other members of their empire begin to side with us—then what do the Klin get out of it? Will they be satisfied simply with the Juireans being defeated as revenge for the destruction of Klinmon, or do they want more? Will they let the Humans win the war and take over the Expansion, or do they have plans beyond that?”

All eyes turned to Rittenberg. “I honestly do not know. We never had any conversations regarding the aftermath of the war.”

“What’s your best guess?” Allen asked. “You were raised by the alien assholes. You must have some idea of what they’re really like.”

“All I know is that the Klin hate the Juireans at core level. Maybe the simple destruction of the Juirean race will be enough for the Klin; I do not know for sure. And yet the Klin have always felt that they were the true creators of the Alliance, as well as the system and technology that built the Expansion. They feel they were cheated out of their destiny and may want to right that wrong.”

Levin stood up. “Whatever the Klin have planned will reveal itself as the war goes on; we just have to be vigilant. Right now, I have to get our forces back to work. Thank you all. I will have specific orders for you within the hour. Dismissed.”

Chapter 13

Within the hour, Admiral Howie Levin had set in motion three distinct actions. He sent eight hundred and fifty ships in pursuit of the Juirean fleet, following the massive gravity wave deeper into the Expansion. He also sent twenty-five ships and a contingent of Marines to Melfora Lum, the capital planet of the Juirean forces in the Fringe, with orders to take control of the Juirean facilities there. Next he had Commander Lee Schwartz shuttled to his command ship.

* * *

When Lee entered the Admiral’s quarters, he was greeted by Levin and his uncle, Admiral Nate Allen. Lee was still pissed at having had his ship damaged during the short, nineteen-minute battle with the Juireans, even though he knew the damage was minimal and he’d be back in the fleet in about a week. Why he had been summoned to the flagship was anyone’s guess.

Nate Allen greeted his young nephew with a hearty handshake after the cursory saluting. “So, Commander, you’re a Starfighter now,” he said with a smile. Starfighter was the designation now given to anyone who had participated in a battle in space. “The ribbon will look good on your Class A’s.”

“Yes, sir, but I’m not done yet. My ship will be back in action in about a week.”

Levin motioned for Lee to take a seat on the long couch; Nate Allen sat at the other end, while Levin sat in the room’s padded chair.

“Yeah, about that,” Levin started, “we have other plans for you, Commander.”

Lee felt his heart pound heavy in his chest and he went flush. He hadn’t come all this way just to be pulled out of the fight—

Levin held up a hand to stop the protest building in the young officer. “First of all, I want to say you acted honorably in this first encounter with the Juireans, and that you are being promoted immediately to the rank of Captain.”

Lee clamped his mouth shut as his eyes grew wide.

“But with the rank comes a new assignment.”

Here it comes.

Levin looked over at Nate Allen, who took over the conversation. “It’s the belief of Command that the reason the Juireans bugged out of the area is that they want us to follow them deeper into their territory, while continuing to inflict casualties on the Fleet. At some point, they’ll spring a trap on our diminished forces. We’re going to let the Juireans do this.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“What we want you to do, Captain, is take over command of a shadow fleet, one that will consist of artificial casualties from the subsequent battles to come, plus all the ships that are actually damaged yet can rejoin the fleet. We want the Juireans to believe they are weakening our forces at a rapid pace, while you build this shadow fleet behind their backs. When their trap is sprung, you will then counterattack with your fleet, catching the J’s in a trap of our own. Does this make sense to you?”

Lee nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “But I’ll be out of the fighting to come, except for the final battle. Sir, I’m a pilot not a—”

“Not a desk jockey…like us?” Allen finished for him. “I understand that. But building this fleet has to be done in complete secrecy. It’s the most-important assignment to date, and I trust you to do it. We cannot have the Juireans get wind of it while you shadow the main fleet. And the Klin must not know about it either. We don’t trust the slimy bastards to know of our plans, so all the 2G’s in your command—plus any Converts you find—must be one-hundred percent loyal…or be purged from the fleet.”

“Purged?”

“That’s right, Lee. We cannot risk word of our plans getting out to anyone, even the Klin. You are an excellent pilot, but right now we need you to assume this new role. It’s crucial. Can you do it for us?”

“Yes sir, of course.” Then he smiled. “But I was just getting use to killing aliens.”

“You’ll get your chance again, captain. When we spring this trap, you’ll have ample opportunity to rack up more kills for your ace-rating. Since your ship is already undergoing repairs, we need you to assess the current strength of your fleet. We anticipate the next battle with the Juireans will come fairly soon, at which time we’ll pull out several dozen more ships—fully operational ships, I might add—to join your fleet. We don’t want to draw out this final battle any longer than need be, so we’ll attempt to call the Juirean’s hand by more frequent engagements with greatly-inflated casualty figures. The sooner we get the main fleet drawn down to a fraction of its current strength, the sooner the Juireans will feel confident enough to spring their trap. You need to be ready when that time comes.”

“Well, thanks a lot, Uncle Nate. Not much riding on this new assignment—except everything!”

“Now you understand, my boy. Just make sure you don’t screw it up.”

Chapter 14

General Owen Taggert watched the planet of Melfora Lum grow rapidly through the forward viewport of the Klin spaceship, the one its Human crew had named the Semper Fi. It had been nearly five months since he had left Earth, on a mission to defend her interests against the almost inconceivable threat posed by the Juirean race. And although he had cruised past other worlds within the Melfora Lum system and elsewhere, this would be the first inhabited alien planet he would actually make landfall.

The planet itself was very picturesque, comfortingly similar to Earth. There were three large land masses visible during his approach, with vast blue oceans and wispy white clouds casting shadows on the surface. Like most Humans of the modern age, General Taggert was somewhat acclimated to the idea and imagery of alien worlds. Countless movies and science programs had prepared him for the possibility of this moment. Yet here was a real alien world, and in a few moments, he and his accompanying force of twenty-five Klin flying saucers would make a hostile landing at the planetary capital city of Hi’Jea and launch an assault on Juirean headquarters located there.

During the long journey to the Fringe, Owen Taggert had taken it upon himself to learn more about the nature of the enemy he faced and the organization that it led. What he found was fascinating.

Through all the studying he’d done and reports he’d read, Taggert was amazed to find that a vast majority of the beings inhabiting the galaxy all shared many of the same basic traits and societal structures. Anthropologists and astrobiologists—armed with actual real-life data provided by the Klin—could now theorize why this was so. Their conclusions pointed to the fact that every inhabited world, whether now or in the future, would eventually produce only one dominant species. The Juireans and the Klin called these top-of-the-food-chain creatures Primes, and they noticed that nearly all of them shared the same general physical and biological characteristics: Ninety-five percent of them were mammals. Most walked upright on two or four legs and had two or four arms. Many had binocular sight. The development of hands was extremely important and remarkably similar, comprised of a combination of fingers and thumbs that were capable of manipulating tools.

Taggert accepted these conclusions without question, chalking many up to just common sense. But what he really wanted to know was why did all the alien civilizations he studied appear to be so Human-like? Nowhere to be found were there gaseous creatures that floated through the air, or talking fish, or slugs that ran spaceships. The explanation he found changed his perspective on all alien life in the galaxy.

As he learned, once a Prime reached a certain point in its evolution, the creature developed the ability to imagine. It could imagine what would happen if an animal attacked. It could imagine a time when the weather grew colder or its food supply dwindled. Basically, the creature would become aware of its surroundings and could project into the future.

As time went by, these Primes began to build shelters against the elements and clothing against the exposure, knowing from their memories and imagination what could best be developed to guarantee survival. The more proficient they became in this area, the more they became dependent upon these exterior improvements to better their condition. Fur grew thinner, teeth shorter and muscles weaker. Soon these Primes survived primarily through brain-power rather than brawn.

With permanent structures now needed to sustain their wellbeing, the Primes developed communities that would further help guarantee their survival. As the population of these settlements grew, the inhabitants found it wasn’t feasible for the entire community to go hunting each day for sustenance, so specialties developed. Some in the community grew the food, while others domesticated livestock, and still others provided protection or taught the children.

On millions of worlds throughout the galaxy, this same pattern was followed countless times as Primes advanced through the millennia. The settlements became larger, and as they did rules had to be laid down detailing the proper conduct within the society. Governments formed to enforce these rules, and soon a more-or-less homogeny of societal development became the rule rather than the exception. Every advanced race, on every habitable world, ended up having basically the same wants, needs and desires, and followed nearly the same path to satisfy them. They all needed food, clothing and shelter. They needed others within the community to help provide nearly everything the society required to survive. Specializations became skills, skills became jobs and jobs became careers.

As Taggert learned, when you strip away all the grime, the foul smells, and disgusting habits, we’re all basically the same.

And that was why General Owen Taggert and his Marines were about to land on an alien world, complete with cities and skyscrapers, streets and cars, and shopping centers and ballfields.

Chapter 15

Taggert’s force of four hundred battle-hardened Marines were chomping at the bit for some action. All of them had served either in Iraq or Afghanistan—or both—and since the surprise bombardment of the Earth by the Juireans, were anxious to get into the fight. The surprisingly short space battle that had taken place eighteen hours before had not involved the Marines, yet the ground assault against any remaining Juirean forces on Melfora Lum was entirely up to them to carry out.

The Juireans dominated a section of Hi’Jea called Kri, with the main headquarters building presenting an unmistakable target; standing over forty stories tall, pyramidal and shimmering with a bronze glass exterior. Intelligence reports indicated the Juireans had recently beefed up their population to the normally anemic numbers they had in the Sector, with estimates running as high as two to three thousand Juirean Guards on the planet. Add to this the number of native Melforeans fighting alongside the Juireans, and Taggert’s force would be greatly outnumbered.

But he had Marines on his side—Human Marines—and from all indications each one of his men was worth a hundred aliens, even counting the Juireans.

His ships dropped to the surface under gravity drives and landed to the north of the Juirean compound in a large field next to a towering parabolic dish covered with scaffolding. This would be the main communications dish for the Sector, the one Adam Cain and his Raiders had toppled a few months earlier. The Juireans were in the process of repairing the damage and had erected a tall, temporary communications tower next to the large dish in the interim. Taggert smiled. Looks like they’ll never get it fixed, not if I have anything to do about it.

Gravity landings tend to be very destructive affairs, with the wells drawing up dirt, trees and buildings—even people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time—into the focal point several kilometers above the surface. Twenty-five ships landing all at once sent such a cloud of dust and debris over the entire administration compound as to form a very effective smokescreen for the landing. Through long range binoculars, Taggert and his men could barely see the thousands of defenders covering their faces and running for cover from the onslaught of the dust cloud. By the time it cleared, the Marines were down and already offloading their assault vehicles.

Taggert’s men had prepared for an AWL—Alien World Landing—using Mars as a training ground, so they were ready for the sudden feeling of vertigo when their ship’s gravity was replaced by that of Melfora Lum. This planet’s surface gravity was about two-thirds that of Earth’s, so a solid two-hundred pound Marine now weighed one-hundred thirty-two. Even Taggert’s wiry one-hundred sixty-two pound build was suddenly down to one-oh-seven. And without the bulky spacesuits they had to wear during the maneuvers on Mars, General Taggert felt as if he could take on Zeus himself—and win.

Within minutes, Taggert’s Marines had offloaded twenty M113 Armored Personnel Carriers and ten M2 Bradley Fighting Vehicles. Each of the M113’s was equipped with an M2 Browning machine gun, and the Bradley’s carried 25-mm M243 chain guns, as well as 7.62mm M240C machine guns. Both vehicles had also been fitted with K-92 Klin flash rifles, even though the Marines seldom used them, even in training. Instead, they preferred the sound, reliability and sheer penetrating power of the Browning’s over the pussy-poof—as they called it—of the bolt launchers. Some even called the flash rifles queefers.

Taggert joined his men, riding in a command Humvee driven by a staff sergeant. As the vehicles bounced across the rocky field, made even rougher by the gravity landings of the ships, Taggert had very little time to take in the significance of this moment. He was on an alien world—and unlike Mars—breathing alien air and about to engage in a battle with flesh-and-blood beings other than Human. Taggert had never met any of the rare Klin while on Earth, nor had he during the journey here, so this would be his first face-to-face encounter with aliens.

Like the old saying went: Join the Service, travel to exotic lands, meet new people—and kill them! No truer words could be spoken on a day like this.

The dust from the landing had drifted away in a strong breeze. As Taggert and his forces drew closer to the massive Juirean headquarters building he could clearly make out a line of defenders in trenches and behind dirt berms about two hundred meters this side of the building. Through the binoculars, Taggert could vaguely make out tall, slender beings with angular heads and narrow eyes. They were all dressed in body armor, and many held rifle-like weapons which Taggert knew to be bolt launchers, weapons with an effective range of about a hundred meters. That was another thing the Marines hated about flash rifles—their limited range. By utilizing concentrated balls of electricity as ammunition, it was nearly impossible for the rounds to maintain intensity and integrity over long distances, especially within an atmosphere. Taggert and his Marines would soon open up with their own deadly projectile weapons, long before the aliens could counter with bolts from their queefers.

As if on cue, the M2’s began to blast away with the 25-mils. To Taggert’s surprise, most of the initial rounds overshot the line, with some even impacting the building on the far side of the defenders. The computers onboard the vehicles were attuned to Earth’s gravity, rotation and atmospheric density; in the lighter gravity of Melfora Lum, the programmed trajectories were too steep and the projectiles traveled too far. Moments later, however, the professional gunners had made their adjustments. The next barrage sent a rain of fire and destruction into the ranks of the alien defenders, sending geysers of dirt and body parts flying into the thin air. It wasn’t long before the aliens abandoned their static defense lines and retreated toward the building.

Within minutes, the main battle was fully engaged. Marines poured from the rear of the Bradley’s and the M113’s, spitting fire from the barrels of their M4’s, M16’s and BAR’s. Taggert watched from the rear of the action as hundreds of aliens were blasted to bits by the force of the rounds. Even as their comrades died, many of the aliens fired in panicked desperation with the flash rifles, sending bolts of fire into the ranks of his Marines. Some were hit; yes, he was taking casualties, but nothing like the aliens were experiencing.

And then they were at the building. It was pyramidal in shape, with the main entrance surrounded by a large courtyard of walkways, manicured lawns, statues and fountains. But it was overrun with panicked aliens, some seeking cover in whatever manner they could find, while hundreds of others ran through the half-dozen double doorways and into the building itself, turning occasionally to let loose with a few shots from their flash rifles.

Still the Marines advanced.

Off to his right, Taggert heard a massive explosion; he turned in time to see the huge communication dish topple over, a target of his secondary force. There had been a line of defenders there, too, but not anymore. The ground trembled as the dish crashed to the surface in an explosion of dust and sound.

Taggert’s Marines were firing RPG’s through the entrances to the building now, eliminating the last traces of resistance near the doorways. Most of the sensible aliens ran deeper into the structure, looking to hide rather than fight. Even though the bulk of the fighting was over, Taggert knew they had to be careful as they cleared the building. This was where they would take the bulk of their casualties.

Taggert’s orders were to secure the building and allow for the intel pros to scour the Juirean records for anything useful. He dismounted the Humvee—and pulling his trusty .45 from the holster on his hip—followed a shield unit into the building.

As he waded through the mass of alien dead, Taggert found it curious that they were all Melforeans; he hadn’t seen a single Juirean among any of the defenders. If intel was right, then there should have been several thousand of the green-haired Guards to greet his forces, yet there were none among the dead.

The bottom floor of the admin building was a single large open area, easily covering a hundred square meters, with the ceiling soaring four stories above. There were numerous kiosks scattered throughout the lobby area—all deserted now except for the bodies of the dead aliens, along with dozens of live Marines moving cautiously about, looking for any trace of resistance.

Lieutenant Jerome Corse came up to Taggert. He didn’t salute; you never did that in a combat zone. “The lower level appears to be clear, sir. Most of the aliens have exited out the other side and run for the hills. I’m beginning a sweep of the upper floors now. Echo Company is setting up a parameter outside the building in case there’s a counterattack.” The young black man glanced around the room and smiled. “I don’t see that happening, though. These things don’t seem to have much fight in them.”

“Casualties?” Taggert asked.

“Twelve dead, as best we can determine at this time, with about twenty wounded.”

“Be sure to collect the bodies, LT,” Taggert said. “We want to make sure they make it back to Earth for burial. We don’t want to leave them on some alien planet where no one can honor them.”

“Yes, sir, not goin’ to let that happen.”

Taggert took out a Klin communicator, a device that looked like a large cellphone. He fingered the controls. “Taggert to Command, come in, over.”

Immediately, Admiral Levin was on the link. He had been watching the events unfold on the surface through the video cameras mounted on the helmets of the Marines. “Looks like less resistance than anticipated, Owen.”

“For now, Admiral, but I haven’t seen any Juireans. Either they’ve all split or they’re waiting to hit us when we let our guard down. We’ll move farther out into the city once the building’s secure.”

“Roger that. Just be careful. We don’t know what the Juireans are capable of. This is all virgin ground for us.”

“Understood. I’ll send a few of the saucers up to provide air cover for us as we—”

* * *

Levin winced as a deafening screech sounded through the speakers. Others on the command bridge did the same. Admiral Nate Allen moved up beside him. “What was that?” he asked, more to the communications officer rather than to Levin.

“Communications are offline—”

“Sir! We’re picking up a massive explosion on the surface.” Levin and Allen ran to the radar station. The E-5 manning the screen looked nervous.

“Confirmed, Admiral,” said Lieutenant Morris from his console next to the second-class. “A mushroom cloud is rising above the city.” He looked up at the two senior officers, his mouth hanging slack. “It looks like they’ve set off a nuke, right there in the middle of the city. It’s huge, probably over a hundred megatons. That’s bigger than anything we have.”

Nate Allen suddenly felt his knees go weak as he struggled to breathe. The fucking Juireans blew up the entire city—along with Owen and his men!

Nate looked over at Levin, whose eyes were glassy, his bottom lip trembling. “I guess we know what we’re up against, now,” Levin managed to say. “Four hundred Marines—just like that, and not counting a city of several million living souls.”

Allen placed a hand on Levin’s shoulder. “Let’s make sure these scurvy bastards pay for this, Admiral. Let’s send every last one of them straight to Hell!”

Chapter 16

Along the eastern perimeter of the shipyards ran a tall wire fence, and through it Adam could see the dense, verdant boundary of the jungle beyond. There were numerous metal crates stacked high against the fence, and he and Sherri were able to easily scamper to the top of one of them. Poul, on the other hand, was not much of a climber. Adam leaned over the edge and offered the Hyben the end of his flash rifle. The large shrimp eyed the barrel of the weapon with trepidation before finally grabbing hold. Adam lifted him to the top of the crate.

Adam jumped to the ground on the other side of the fence and then called for the alien to follow suit; Adam would catch him. Sherri patted Poul’s back, “It’s okay, you can trust him.”

Once all three of them were over the fence, Adam led them to the tree line. As part of the normal maintenance of the yards, large mowers maintained a hundred meter buffer zone between the jungle and the fence, but with the cutbacks on personnel, the grooming had not taken place in a month or two. Now large, gnarly vines snaked out of the dense forest, sending off shoots of smaller appendages which burrowed into the ground forming strong footholds in mother-nature’s relentless attempt to reclaim what was rightfully hers. Unless something was done soon, within a year the jungle would be creeping over and through the fence; in ten years the shipyard would be nothing but a ghost town of decaying and overrun buildings.

The fugitives entered the sea of vegetation and immediately felt the temperature climb by five to ten degrees. All around was a cacophony of buzzing and clicking sounds, which failed to cease as they moved through the jungle. Adam pulled out his blade, extended it out to its full length, and began to hack his way deeper into the overgrowth. He had no fear; much of his training had been in environments such as this, yet Sherri and Poul were having difficulty keeping up.

“Where are we going?” Sherri called out from behind Poul. “It seems to be getting thicker.”

“Can’t you hear that?” Adam said for an answer. It was the sound of running water.

“A river?”

“That’s Jullin Creek; it runs through the jungle and empties into Luy Lake, about twenty kilometers from here,” Poul explained.

“So your plan is to escape down the river?” Sherri asked Adam.

Adam burst through the thick barrier of man-size fronds and found himself balancing precariously on the bank of a muddy river, about twenty meters above the water. Bending his body like one of those wacky air displays at a car dealership, he eventually regained his balance and stepped back. He turned to smile at Sherri, who was just now emerging from the jungle. Suddenly, the brittle muddy bank gave way. Adam slid down the slippery bank and splashed into the water. Sinking under the surface, he felt a strong current pulling him down river. Adam was a strong swimmer, so with a few kicks of his legs, he broke through the surface and swam for the shore, beaching himself about twenty yards down from where he’d entered the river. Poul and Sherri were busily making their way along the bank above him, a concerned look plastered across Sherri’s face.

“Are you all right?” she called out to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said as he stood in about a meter of water.

“The vipers move within the river,” Poul offered. “I would not linger if I were you.”

Adam looked up and down the bank until he saw where the river and the bank matched the same level. He moved downriver, staying a few meters in the water as he did so. “I need the two of you to move back into the jungle a few feet; stay away from the bluff. I’ll meet you over there,” he said, pointing to where he would make his exit.

“What do you have in mind?” Sherri asked, as she and Poul moved back into the thick vegetation.

“I want anyone who’s following us to think we entered the river and have either crossed over or headed downstream. We’re going to double back through the jungle and take up a spot upriver, near the shipyards.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sherri said, “but it’s going to be tough getting through the jungle without leaving a trail.”

“We’ll manage,” Adam said as he joined the other two within the canopy of vines and oversized leaves. “Besides, in a day most of the trail will be covered over with new growth.”

Adam led the way through the jungle, this time going slower and using his hands and arms to gently push away the barriers they encountered. In a few minutes they came upon the path Adam had cut through the jungle with his blade, a wide and obvious scar through the jungle. They jumped over the path, each being careful not to leave any signs of their passing, and soon were once again trudging upriver.

They stopped twenty minutes later when they heard noises coming from behind. Adam moved to the edge of the jungle where it met the river. The waterway curved away slightly at this point and Adam could see pretty far down the river. There—at the point where his path met the water—stood a gaggle of Hyben security forces, their flashlights dancing helter-skelter across the scene. They were shouting and pointing across the river, and after a few moments turned away and began to follow the bank downstream.

Adam smiled as Sherri patted him on the back. “Good plan, Stan,” she said, matching his smile. Then she leaned over and kissed his cheek. She quickly feigned spitting motions to rid her lips of the sweat and grime from his face. Still, her eyes smiled at him.

“Let’s get going,” he said. “Another twenty minutes or so and then we’ll head back toward the yards. It’ll be daybreak soon; we need to set up camp and find something to eat.”

Adam saw the grimace cross Sherri’s face. She still had the taste and smell of the Hyben baths in her memory. “I hope there’s something on this damn planet worth eating.” Then she looked back at Poul, who was standing a few meters behind her, still in the cover of the jungle. “Maybe something like a giant shrimp cocktail?”

Adam looked at Poul as well and raised an eyebrow. “Definitely an option.

But without the sauce he would be pretty bland.”

Poul stared at them, confused by the Human’s sudden attention directed his way. He was relieved when they moved past, with Adam placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

* * *

An hour later they were once again at the edge of the buffer zone surrounding the shipyards. They were a couple of kilometers west of the point where they’d first entered the jungle, and the area beyond the fence was dotted with derelict spacecraft that had been relegated to the farthest hinterlands of the yards.

About fifty meters back into the jungle, Adam and Sherri cleared a campsite with their blades. Once the vegetation had been cut, they proceeded to cover the muddy ground with large palm frowns to shield them from the guck. Finally, they all sat down in a circle, each enjoying the first rest they’d had in several hours. Poul managed to curl himself into a large ball, with just his pointy head and black, beady eyes staring out at them. Adam couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not.

Sherri fell back herself, resting her head on a small vine. She had mud on her face, stubbornly securing itself to her skin even through the sheen of sweat that dripped from her pours. Adam’s stomach growled, loud enough so she could hear it.

“You know it’s going to be a crapshoot with the food we find,” she said. “Without a dietary scanner we could be eating poison and not know until it’s too late.”

Adam nodded. “The safest thing to do would be to find some meat and cook it, but we don’t want to attract anyone with either the fire or the smell. Let’s get a little rest now. I’ll head out after daybreak and see what’s around. So far I haven’t seen anything much bigger than a worm. But there has to be something out here worth eating.”

“Poul mentioned snakes.”

“That he did. Whatever is out here, let’s try to find it first, before it finds us.”

Chapter 17

The Hyben sun was a few degrees up in the eastern sky by the time Adam and Sherri awoke from their naps. Adam swung into consciousness, angry at himself for not having them each stand guard duty while the others slept. After pulling some leech-looking thing from his forearm, he looked around their tiny campsite and noticed that Poul was gone.

Both he and Sherri drew their MK’s and began a sweep of the jungle surrounding the clearing. It wasn’t long before Adam spotted where the Hyben had moved into the jungle, his tail leaving a wide swath in the muddy floor of the jungle.

Silently motioning for Sherri to follow him, Adam began to track Poul farther into the thick growth. After a couple of minutes, he heard a noise ahead of him. Holding up his clinched fist, Sherri froze.

Poul was coming toward them through the jungle growth, carrying in his mid-arms the carcass of a rodent about the size of a small dog. Spotting Adam, the diameter of Poul’s round mouth grew wider. “I got us some first-meal. It’s a grummer. I have to say I’ve bought plenty at the market, but I’ve never had to kill one myself. This is exciting.”

Adam and Sherri watched silently as the large shrimp-like being moved past them. They shrugged at each other before following him back to the campsite.

Once there, Poul tossed the dead, hairy creature into the center of the clearing and then leaned down, covering the carcass with his body. When he pulled away, the dead beast had been gutted, with its entrails clutched in Poul’s two nin-arms. “Come, get your fill,” he said joyfully at the two Humans, as the lowest set of arms began to stuff the raw and bloody flesh into this mouth—the pink gash located between the nin-arms.

“You eat it raw?” Sherri asked, unable to hide the disgust from both her expression and her voice.

“Of course,” Poul said, cocking his head slightly to the right. “And it is best if the body is still warm.”

Adam sucked up his resolve and moved to the carcass. He pulled his sword and cut two generous portions of meat from the flanks of the beast. Next, he took his MK-17 and dialed the weapon to level three. He fired the weapon into the flesh and surveyed the results. Some of the pink was gone, but still more remained than he was comfortable with. He blasted the meat three more times, until the alien steaks were steaming with a consistent brown color throughout.

Poul’s head began to vibrate slightly. “Why have you ruined your meal? Now most of the nutrients have been cooked out of it.”

“Thanks for the meat, Poul, but we can’t eat it the way you do.” Adam handed a slab of cooked meat to Sherri on a thick, shiny green leaf. She eyed it suspiciously.

Adam lifted his own portion to his mouth and bit off a section. He chewed vigorously before swallowing. He met Sherri’s eyes with a look of surprise. “Not bad. A little tough, but I think this will do.”

Sherri tested a much smaller bite, but then raised her eyebrows. “Okay, but remember, we have to survive for five more days on this shit before Kaylor comes to our rescue. I hope in that time some ravenous little parasite hasn’t eaten us alive from the inside out.”

* * *

The next four days passed relatively quickly, with a simple routine being established in the tiny base camp. Poul became the hunter of the group, surprisingly capable at locating and taking down small game. He also spent time near the river, catching a variety of fish, half of which seldom made it back to the camp before Poul consumed them.

Sherri and Adam constructed elevated sleeping racks to lift themselves above the myriad of crawling creatures that inhabited the Hyben night. They covered the beds with stacks of palm fronds, and then placed more fronds over their bodies as shelter from the frequent rains. Poul didn’t bother with any such improvements. Instead he dug a hole in the soft, muddy soil and would insert himself into it every night.

Even though they were making it the best they could, Adam and Sherri were growing increasingly restless. Adam’s grew a thick five o’clock shadow while Sherri’s hair became oilier and darker from the accumulation of dirt and grime. The local diet had also caused its share of discomfort; they both suffered from chronic diarrhea and headaches from the dehydration it caused. After a couple of days, the diarrhea passed, but now they were weak and listless.

Occasionally, Adam would make a foray to the point where they had first entered the jungle to see if the Mulinni—the Hyben police—were still searching for them. Unfortunately, the Hyben appeared to have stepped up their efforts to find the two Humans.

A section of the wire fence had been removed, allowing for a steady stream of vehicles to pass from the shipyards, and a road was cut through the jungle to Jullin Creek. Boats were placed on the river, and eventually the search began to move upstream as well as along the bank, rather than exclusively downstream toward Luy Lake as it had for the past several days. Adam began to make plans to move their camp farther west; they still had two days to go before Kaylor would attempt a landing. And then the two filthy and smelly Humans would have to make their way to the spaceport for the rendezvous. That was another challenge awaiting them.

* * *

Adam was making his way back to the base camp after one of his surveys when he heard a deep, guttural-breathing coming from the jungle to his left. He stopped for a moment and listened. The sound was hard to hear, but it was there, lower-pitched than the constant buzzing coming from the myriad of insects that called the jungle home.

He continued on, his hand resting on the butt of his MK, while keeping his head cocked slightly to the left in the direction of the sound. It was paralleling his path, remaining hidden in the lush overgrowth.

When he entered the clearing that marked the campsite, Sherri stood up from the edge of her frond bed and narrowed her eyes; Poul slinked off to his hole in the ground and climbed inside.

“What the hell is that?” Sherri asked. Her hand moved instinctively to the grip of her own MK.

“I don’t know. It’s been following me for a while. It’s big, whatever it is.”

Sherri looked over at Poul, whose mouth now formed a perfect ‘o’, his head the only part of his body poking out of the hole. “Do you know what—?”

Out of the darkness of the jungle, something sprang forth, flying through the air and landing on Adam. He felt a tremendous weight press down on his chest as a hot, foul breath swept over him. Something struck against his right side; he was airborne a moment later, with a sharp pain piercing his chest. He landed, his fall cushioned by the soft vegetation of the jungle. But the beast was on him again.

Now Adam saw it. The creature was about twice the size of a Bengal tiger, with dark green and brown stripes that blended perfectly with the surrounding flora. It was covered in matted fur, with a massive head, short pointed ears aimed backwards and a mouth larger than Adam’s head. The creature had him pinned to the ground, a wide, clawed paw pressing down on his chest. Then the beast opened its mouth, revealing two rows of inch-long teeth, along with two pair of six-inch long fangs projecting from both the upper and lower jaws. The creature reared back its head, preparing for the kill strike.

Adam brought both his arms up and crashed his fists into the chest of the animal. Caught off guard by the severity of the blow, the creature sat back on its haunches and blinked its yellow eyes. Adam rolled to his left, drawing his MK as he did so. The beast saw that Adam had escaped its grasp and let out a deafening roar, a loud, guttural sound that echoed throughout the jungle canopy. And then it sprang again.

Adam jumped to his feet, lifted the MK and pulled the trigger. The beast was hit in the chest, burning away a section of the thick fur. The thing roared again, but this time the sound was much higher-pitched—the sound of pain. Adam side-stepped the creature as it landed and was ready when the beast whipped its massive head around and jumped again. Adam pulled the trigger, the bolt striking the giant tiger between its wide-set eyes. He fired a third time. The yellow eyes closed, even as its forward momentum sent the massive creature hurdling towards him. Adam jumped into the air, flying easily two meters up in the light Hyben gravity. He landed on the back of the now-dead creature, taking a moment to balance himself surfer-style until it stopped moving. He stood on top of the carcass, his torn tunic revealing half of his muscular chest, blood dripping down his bare right arm. The MK was held firmly in his hand.

Sherri ran up to him with Poul a step behind. Her mouth was opened in shock, her eyes wide with fear and concern.

Adam looked down at the massive creature, and then over at his two companions. “I don’t know what it was—but it’s dead!”

Poul moved up to the creature and kicked at it with one of his small feet. “It’s a freager cat,” he said. “They’re endangered now on Hyben, but they are the deadliest animals on the planet.”

The alien then looked up at Adam, standing high on the dead beast. “At least they were—until now.”

* * *

Sherri efficiently tended to Adam’s wounds, which consisted of a four-inch long gash on his right shoulder and possibly a couple of bruised ribs.

“I can’t guarantee this cut won’t get infected, not out here. We may have to move into the town and find some medicine.”

“I’ll be fine,” Adam said wearily. After four days in the heat and humidity of the jungle, suffering from diarrhea—and now this—Adam was thinking he sure could use a vacation about now.

“I guess we should start making our way toward the spaceport. We wouldn’t want to miss our ride—”

Just then the jungle ground shuddered and vibrated as a sound louder than any departing jet airliner filled the air.

“Now what?” Adam yelled over the din.

Looking into the sky—in the direction of the sound—they saw three dark shapes high up above. The objects were growing larger, and Adam recognized them as the underbellies of three large spacecraft. Through the pain in his shoulder and side, he rushed through the jungle, with Sherri and Poul close behind. They broke through the maze of vines and fronds and into the clearing between the forest and the shipyards just in time to see the massive spaceships make gravity landings in an area to the north. The ships didn’t seem to care that their landings were tearing apart everything at this end of the complex, including buildings, roads and the graveyard of derelict spacecraft. The surface was ripped up and sent roaring into the sky; but the moment the ships touched down and dissolved the wells, there came such a rain of dirt and debris back to the surface that an enormous dust cloud rose up and swept over the entire area, reaching as far west as where Adam and his companions stood in shocked disbelief. Stray bolts of static electricity arched between the three metal craft, and even from this distance, Adam could hear the creaking of the hulls as they cooled.

“Let me guess—Juireans,” Sherri said.

“You don’t suppose they’re just dropping in for an oil change, do you?” Adam said, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t think so; looks like they’re serious about finding you this time.”

“Juireans you say!” Poul was apoplectic, his three sets of arms flailing widely in front of him. “No, no, I have had enough.” And with that, the large shrimp-like creature scurried off to the west, squealing as he went.

“Come back, Poul!” Adam called after him. “You can’t go back now.”

“I will take my chances with my own kind. You two are on your own against the Juireans.”

Adam couldn’t blame the big shrimp for being scared, and after a moment’s thought, he decided to let him go. Besides, he and Sherri could travel much faster without him along.

They retreated back into the cover of the jungle and knelt down next to each other.

“What now, Captain Cain?” Sherri asked, serious this time.

“You picked a fine time to start respecting my rank,” he said with a smirk. “It all depends on what the Juireans do next. If they join the Hyben and search for us downriver, we should be fine. Otherwise, we’ll have to take our chances within the city. We’ll stay here until the J’s off load, and then we’ll make a decision.”

Chapter 18

Adam and Sherri returned to their tiny base camp, where they recovered Adam’s flash rifle and the extra power packs. They returned to the buffer zone and began to move within the jungle boundary area toward the entry point through the shipyard fence. The journey took them an hour and by the time they drew close enough to observe the aliens, the Juireans were off their ships and ready to join the search for the elusive Adam Cain.

And they looked serious this time.

From their ships they unloaded three massive tracked vehicles, each featuring the largest ground-based flash cannon Adam had ever seen. The Humans couldn’t risk getting too close, but even from this distance they could make out dozens of Primes moving between the ships and the jungle. There were very few Hyben, replaced mainly with other beings—including some Juireans—but mainly Rigorians and other equally fierce-looking species.

Then the Juireans fired up the vehicles. The loud, rumbling tanks sped off toward the narrow opening in the fence that the Hyben had cut, but rather than bothering with the opening, the vehicles simply crashed through the fence, churning up dirt and dust with their tracks. They crossed the buffer zone in seconds and entered the jungle, firing the cannon to clear the growth from their headlong surge.

Next, half a dozen small flying objects crossed over what remained of the fence and headed for the jungle. They were like small helicopters, each with an array of scanners and a prominent flash rifle pointing downward. The small drones began firing. They spread out and headed for the river, their rate of fire near constant into the jungle below.

“What are they shooting at?” Sherri asked.

“Probably any living thing they pick up on their sensors, using infrared. This doesn’t look good. They’ll be able to pick up our heat signatures even through the canopy.”

“Then we’re screwed if they head this way.”

“You’re right. Let’s move back to the river and head west.”

They moved back the way they had come, keeping an eye—and an ear—out for the prominent buzzing of the drones. After an hour, they had passed back through their small clearing and cut deeper into the jungle. They emerged at the river, at the point where it widened out and turned to the south, allowing them a long view downriver.

The Juireans were there; the tracked tanks having ripped most of the jungle away. One of the vehicles had crossed the river and was blasting away at the growth on that side. Several of the drones circled above, periodically sending bright flashes of electricity into the jungle canopy. Fortunately, the Juireans had turned to the south, heading downriver. Adam breathed a sigh of relief. As long as the Juireans spent time downriver, they should be fine.

Then he noticed two of the drones begin to head upstream, one on each side of the river. Adam grabbed Sherri’s arm and pulled her along the riverbank. A wide beach area had been cleared by the water at this point, so they were able to move fast in the light gravity. But still they couldn’t outrun the drones. And they were also leaving a prominent trail of footprints in the sand.

“Follow me!” Adam yelled. He moved toward the water. He stopped at the shallow, muddy bank, grabbed Sherri and threw her into the mud. “I saw this in a movie once,” he said with a wink, as he began to pick up handfuls of mud and slap the smelly, sticky goop onto Sherri’s body.

“What the hell, Adam!”

“The mud should mask your heat signature. Deal with it.”

“Yeah, I saw that movie, too, but I ain’t Arnold!”

With her brief protest over, Sherri began to help cover her body with mud, and in a minute she looked like a life-size chocolate mannequin, embossed in the bank of the river, with just her bright blue eyes peering out.

“Now you,” she said.

“I’ll take care of myself. You just stay here and don’t move—no matter what.”

“What are you going to do?”

For an answer, Adam looked back over his shoulder just as the two drones swept over the river from the jungle canopy. He turned toward the water and dove in, kicking hard until he was skimming along the bottom of the river as it deepen near the center. The current was fairly strong, but Adam was able to move through it with little effort. When he was in peak condition, Adam had been an excellent swimmer and could hold his breath for nearly four minutes in warm water. Although he wasn’t in the same shape as he was with the SEALs on Earth, he was able to stay submerged until the drones passed over.

But he couldn’t make it all the way across the river without coming up for air.

He broke the surface about twenty yards from the opposite shore and looked into the sky. The drones had passed by; Sherri’s camouflage apparently worked. But then one of the tiny helicopters stopped and turned back in his direction.

Adam ducked under the water again and kicked for depth. At the bottom of the river, he moved toward the closest shore. When he looked up through the prism of the water he could see the drone pass over his location.

He broke the surface and took a deep breath, ignoring the pain from the cut on his shoulder. He lay in about three feet of water and looked around trying to spot the drones. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear their distinctive buzzing nearby.

And then one appeared across the river, almost directly over Sherri’s location. Adam could clearly make out Sherri’s uniform brown figure plastered within the riverbank, the drone moving slowly above. It had picked up something and the longer it stayed above her, the better the chance that a Human outline would be discerned by either the computers onboard or the creatures manning the screens back at the Juirean ships.

Adam pulled the flash rifle from around his back. He knew it still functioned, even after being submerged in the water. The drone was out of range, and the other one was still lingering nearby. He made a decision.

He lifted out of the water and ran up the bank, disappearing into the jungle. Immediately, the drone on the other side of the river shot out in his direction. As it reached his side of the river, Adam turned and aimed the Xan-fi rifle. He fired, striking the drone in a flash of sparks and fire. The craft fell into the river. But then the second drone was upon him, appearing from the jungle side.

Adam fired at the second drone but missed it with his first shot. The craft hovered where it was, making no defensive maneuvers. Adam fired again. This time it was a direct hit, and the drone crashed into the jungle to his right.

On the other side of the river, Adam saw Sherri move and begin to enter the water. Adam waved his arms at her and she stopped. He made exaggerated motions with his arms, prompting her to move away, back into the jungle. She hesitated.

Adam yelled at the top of his lungs. “Get to the spaceport! I’ll make my own way there!”

Sherri lowered her arms, a look of defeat in her posture. Adam looked downriver and saw two of the tracked vehicles plowing their way upriver in his direction, with two more drones zipping his way, just above the trees.

“Go!” he cried out again.

Reluctantly, Sherri turned and climbed up the shallow bank. At the tree line, she turned and looked back at him. Adam stood up and waved. Sherri lifted her arm and returned a feeble wave. Then she turned and disappeared into the jungle. Adam let out a sigh, standing for a second looking at the point across the river. He really hoped it wouldn’t be the last he ever saw of Sherri Valentine.

Chapter 19

Adam ducked into the vegetation, gripping the flash rifle tighter as he did. He had to give Sherri enough time to get clear. Once the Juireans picked up his scent, they would concentrate all their efforts in his direction, allowing her time to escape. How he would elude the Juireans and their machines long enough for him to make it to the spaceport—that was one of those mysteries in life. He also had no false illusions that the drones wouldn’t be able to take him out from the air. Depending on what level the drone’s flash rifles were set at, it may take a shot or two to kill him, but it was perfectly feasible that that could happen.

Hopefully, his heat signature would be programmed into the Juirean computers by now; if the Juireans planned on taking him alive, then they could direct the drones just to track him through the jungle without firing. Yet from the Juirean actions so far, they didn’t seem that opposed to killing him, either. With so many forces aligned against him, his only chance of survival may be to let the Juireans capture him. All he’d have to do then is escape at some future date. He’d done it before. But to be blasted from the air—that would suck.

Adam moved back toward the river, skirting the shore just inside the tree line, heading for the Juireans. The drones buzzed past, but over the jungle, moving farther from the river. The Juireans figured he’d move away from their position, rather than toward them, but this might be the only way he could save his life.

Within a few minutes, the tanks were nearly upon him. There were troops moving behind them in the path cleared by the tracks. He moved into the jungle, allowing one of the towering and noisy vehicles to pass by. But then a drone appeared above him. He dove to his right, just as a powerful blast struck the ground to his left.

So much for surrendering. He rolled on his back and fired into the air, striking the drone.

He heard shouting as a dozen armed troops moved in his direction. He fired again, hitting one of the Rigorians in the chest. Then bolts began to splash all around him. He tumbled into the palms and vines—just as he was hit. The bolt struck his right calf, sending him to the ground with a spasm of pain. He groaned loudly, lying on his back, cradling the flash rifle on his chest. He fired again, missing this time. Another bolt hit his left shoulder, and the pain was unbearable. These were flash rifle bolts, not the lower-intensity shots from the MK’s.

Adam was losing consciousness, barely noticing when several creatures descended upon him, pulling the rifle from his weakened grip. The pain was gone now, replaced with an almost heavenly feeling of peace. His eyes fluttered and then closed, bringing such a sense of relief that it left a slight trace of a smile on his blood-splattered face.

* * *

Senior Guard Jydle Ga Liplun pushed his way through the crowd of creatures surrounding the body. Once the others realized who he was, they separated, allowing him an unobstructed view. The Human was on his back, covered in blood, with a peaceful-looking expression on his face. A medical Nuvilian was huddled over the body; he looked up when Jydle came near.

“He is alive; why I do not know,” the Nuvilian said.

Jydle lifted a datapad from his satchel and pulled up an image. He compared it with that of the unconscious Human. It is him—and he is alive!

Jydle turned away and used the datapad to open a link to his ship. “Let the Overlord know that we have Adam Cain,” he said when another Juirean came on the screen. “He is alive but injured. Send the report.”

The Juirean looked back at the Human. You don’t look all that impressive, Human, not to have caused all this concern, the Juirean Guard thought. Jydle had captured the so-called super-being. Now it would be up to others to have their way with him.

Chapter 20

Sherri had made her way southward, following the course of the river, moving closer to the Juirean location. She knew Adam would have expected her to go west, toward the town, and make her way to the spaceport. But she couldn’t do that, at least not now.

From her vantage point on the opposite side of the river, she witnessed the effects of the brief battle between Adam and the Juirean forces. It made her mad that her instincts had been right: Adam wasn’t about to run from his pursuers. Instead he would give her time enough to get away and to bring the search to an end.

She had seen his flash bolts strike the two drones, as well as the sounds of battle from within the jungle. Then everything went quiet. There was technology and dozens of creatures amassed against him; he didn’t have a chance. She fought back tears. It was pretty good odds that she had just witnessed the death of her friend—her best friend in the entire universe.

This also meant she was now alone on the planet Hyben. Adam had been such a strong rock in her life for the past year that it was now hard to imagine him not being there anymore.

There was still a lot of activity across the river, but the drones had ceased flying. She should be safe for now; after all, it was Adam Cain who was the big prize, not her. She doubted the Juireans even knew her name.

It was about mid-day on Hyben and Sherri had the rest of the day and night to make it out of the jungle and across the town to the spaceport. The distance wasn’t the problem. Whether she could make it there without drawing attention to herself was the real question.

Reluctantly, Sherri turned back into the jungle, separating the covering vines and leaves as she went. The jungle had become a blanket of sorts for her over the past five days. She steadied her emotions as she trudged along. So many terrible things had happened to her—and to her race—over the past few years. And the battle was continuing. It was time for her to get back into the fight.

* * *

Sherri left the jungle just on the west side of the massive Hyben shipyards. Through a combination of frequent rain showers and sweat, most of the caked-on mud had washed off of her body, but she was still a mess. Her hair felt like a stiff, brown cap on her head, and her tunic was stained and torn in so many places to be almost non-functional. Looking like this, it would be impossible for her to pass through the town without attracting attention.

She moved along the fence line next to the yards until she came to a neighborhood of Hyben residences. There were a few of the natives about, so she ducked behind the mounds as best she could to keep from being noticed. A few of the Hyben did see her, but the normally timid creatures did their best not to make eye contact with the disgusting-looking alien.

This couldn’t go on; she had a dozen kilometers to cover. Sooner or later one of the natives would call the Mulinni to report the suspicious alien in their neighborhood.

A small male Hyben opened the door to his chamber and disappeared inside. Sherri moved quickly toward the door and tried the handle. It was unlocked; apparently the Hyben native didn’t feel the need for security. After today, he may rethink that belief.

Sherri slipped inside and came face-to-face with the shocked alien.

“Who are you? You do not belong here,” the Hyben protested. He unfurled his back plates to show his full size, a move meant to intimidate the much smaller Human.

Rather than being scared, Sherri whipped out her blade and extended it out to its full length. She brandished the sword in the face of the Hyben.

“All I need are your clothes,” she said. The Hyben stepped backwards as his mouth formed the circle she had come to recognize as the look of shock.

“My clothes? Why?”

Sherri waved her left hand down her body. “I can’t go to town looking like this, now can I? Do a girl a favor and help me out.”

“I will not—”

Sherri stuck the blade up under the Hyben’s pointy chin. “Don’t make me hurt you. I’m tired, filthy and in a shitty mood. Just take off your clothes.”

After a brief moment of silence, the Hyben removed his robe and passed it over to her. He used his fore-arms to cover his lower torso. Sherri grinned.

“Don’t be modest,” she said. “You’ve got a great body. I can barely keep my hands off of you.”

The Hyben’s head vibrated, confused.

Sherri slipped the clean tan robe over her shoulders and pulled the hood over her head. The robe was still way too long for her and would trail after her like a cape as she walked. She would have to cut the bottom off with the sword.

She looked up at the tall Hyben. “I don’t suppose you’ll just let me go quietly and not call the authorities?”

“You have stolen from me and have entered my chambers uninvited. I have no choice”

“So you’re saying the only way I can keep you quiet is to kill you? Is that what you’re saying?”

Again, the alien’s head vibrated. “No! No! That is not what I am saying! I can remain quiet. It is only a robe, and it looks as if you could use it more than me. Consider it a gift.”

Sherri grinned again. “That’s better. I knew we could come to an accommodation.”

Sherri moved to the doorway and slipped outside. She scurried around to the back of the mound and used the sharp edges of the sword to cut away the bottom meter of the robe. That was better. Now she could move quicker through the town and not attract attention. She knew the Hyben would eventually call the authorities but having just spent five days and nights living with one of the natives, she knew it would take several hours before he would build up the courage to do so. By then she should be at the spaceport.

Kaylor should have no problem landing the Exitor. With the search for the assassin Adam Cain concluded, all travel restrictions on and off the planet should be lifted. With a renewed spring in her step, Sherri began to jog quickly through the Hyben neighborhood.

Here she was, just your average Human girl, out for a late-afternoon jog on an alien world, two thousand light-years from Earth—just another day in the life of Sherri Valentine.

Chapter 21

Sherri spent the warm night huddled in a metal trash dumpster just outside the spaceport. Her stomach growled and she was weak from hunger. She drank some water earlier the prior evening but could not risk any of the native food, not without cooking it—which apparently wasn’t that popular of a practice on Hyben. So she suffered—for a little while longer—watching the sky for the distinctive outline of Kaylor’s Exitor-class spaceship on its approach for a planetary landing.

With the ban on landings and takeoffs lifted, the spaceport was exceptionally busy. Five days without interplanetary traffic was crippling the Hyben economy, which was already reeling from the effects of the Human-Juirean war. Even so, it wasn’t until early afternoon before Sherri saw the Exitor make its landing at the spaceport. She was at the rear loading ramp almost before the chemical engines cut off.

However, what she saw first as the door to the loading bay opened, surprised her almost to tears.

Standing next to the pale alien with the inch-long appendages dangling from his ears, was Riyad Tarazi and Andy Tobias. Sherri ran into Riyad’s arms and hugged him forcefully, and then pulled Tobias into her grasp.

“I’m so glad to see the two of you!” she said as tears flowed down her cheeks. Then she turned to Kaylor. “You too, Kaylor, of course. Thank you so much for coming to get me.”

Kaylor bobbed his head at Sherri. She released the other two Humans and stood back a step. “What are you doing here? I thought you were over on Saczen Four.”

“We came as soon as Kaylor told us about you being stranded,” said Lt. Andy Tobias, U.S. Navy SEALs. “Thought we could help.”

A feeling of incredible sadness overcame Sherri, and the tears flowed even freer now. “Oh, god, Adam didn’t make it.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

Riyad put his arm around her and led her into the loading bay of the ship, while Kaylor shut the heavy metal door behind them. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my pet,” he said with a broad smile. Sherri locked a laser gaze on his dark-featured, bearded face.

“What do you mean—?”

“It’s all over the local broadcasts. He’s been captured, but he is alive. The Juireans are making a big deal about catching the terrorist Adam Cain. It’s a propaganda coup for them.”

“Is he all right? Has he been hurt?”

“They had some pictures of him,” Tobias spoke up, more serious this time. “He’s injured but being taken care of. I think they want to keep him alive long enough so they can make a big spectacle of his execution.”

“What? When?”

“They haven’t said. Apparently, they’re taking him all the way to Juir.”

Sherri rushed past the three males, heading for the pilothouse. “Then we have time to get him,” she said, panic in her voice. The men followed after her.

“Yes, we do,” Riyad called after her. “But we must have a plan first. He’s aboard a Juirean Class-3. With Kaylor’s ship and mine, we’re no match for them.”

“I don’t care! We have to do something!”

Tobias caught up with her and grabbed her arm, spinning her toward him. “Relax, Sherri. We’ll get him back. But Riyad’s right, we need a plan.” His eyes were on fire as they bore into hers. “The trip to Juir will take five months. We have time, but first things first. We have to get off of Hyben and muster our forces. Chill out!”

Sherri was stunned into reality. Tobias was right, of course. She was working on adrenalin and pure emotion. Yet when she did stop for a moment and look at the others around her, her legs grew weak and her eyes fluttered. A moment later, Sherri collapsed into Tobias’s arms.

* * *

Andy Tobias easily lifted Sherri in his arms and carried her to the nearest stateroom. She was emaciated, unbelievably filthy and smelled like yak squeeze. If he had the proper medical supplies aboard the Exitor, he would have started an IV and got some liquid nourishment inside her as she slept. Instead he simply laid her on the bed. He would let her sleep for a while. Afterwards, they would work on getting her back into shape.

He shut the door to the stateroom and met Riyad in the corridor. “Damn, she stinks.” Tobias said.

“You’re so right, my friend, but don’t let her hear you say that. I thought the aliens smelled bad, but she—as you say—takes the cake.”

Tobias nodded, before he saw the amused look on Kaylor’s face. For far too long he and Jym had been the brunt of the Human’s jokes about alien odor. “I know what you’re thinking,” Tobias said to Kaylor. “But she’ll clean up.”

Kaylor bobbed his head. “If you only knew how Humans smell like to us, you would not be so flippant with your remarks.”

Tobias put his arm around Kaylor’s shoulder. They headed for the pilothouse, where Jym was waiting to lift the ship off the planet Hyben. Riyad’s ship was waiting for them in orbit. They had a lot of planning to do if they expected to get Adam back from the Juireans.

Chapter 22

For thirty-four days the Human fleet pursued the fleeing Juireans. Although fast for their size, the Klin Fleet Vessels (KFV’s) could barely keep up with the Juirean Class-4’s and -5’s in full gravity drive. The Juireans were getting away.

So it was with surprise—as well as confirmation of their suspicions—that the Humans saw the Juireans begin to slow and reform their battle lines.

The call went out to the Fleet to prepare for engagement. This time they would use all their forces, which now numbered eight-hundred fifty-two ships, not counting those that had remained in the Fringe to mop up the remaining Juirean-loyal forces and the twenty-five that had been destroyed on Melfora Lum.

Word had spread quickly throughout the Fleet regarding the nuclear explosion on Melfora Lum, and the annihilation of the Marine Force Alpha at Hi’Jea. Over a million Melforeans had also died during the explosion, which just showed how cruel and ruthless the Juireans could be. Even though the Human High Command had devised a plan to lure the Juireans into a false sense of security regarding the coming space battles, the destruction of General Taggert’s forces meant that the Juireans were also capable of doing the unexpected. This reality brought a somber atmosphere over the entire Fleet. The war with the Juireans was now in full gear, and the enemy was proving to be quite a formidable and ruthless opponent.

* * *

The Human forces tore into the Juirean lines with a renewed ferocity, aimed at avenging the deaths of the Marines. The Juireans suffered far more losses in the first few minutes of the engagement than they had during their prior meeting with the Humans. KFV’s whipped between the Juireans lines, laying barrage after barrage into their diffusion screens, overloading them. And then other Human units placed more bolts into the weakened areas of the shields until their shots impacted the metal hulls. The next runs sent bolts through the hulls and into the ship’s interiors, resulting in massive explosions from within. Twenty-one Juirean ships exploded into vapor within minutes.

Although only a handful of the commanders knew of the master plan for the battle, the actual Human casualties were not all that bad, with only five ships lost and seventeen damaged but repairable. Without the damage suffered in the planetary rings or the asteroid field, the Humans came out of this conflict relatively unscathed—before the Juireans bolted away again.

Yet on the Juirean screens they saw nearly a hundred of the Human attackers leave the battlefield or their signatures go dark. Normally, this would have been cause for celebration aboard the Juirean ships, as well as impetus for a continuation of the battle. Yet their orders were clear. So once again, the Juireans fired up their deep-wells and fled the scene.

With the current strength of the Juirean fleet, plus any waiting reinforcements, it was estimated that the Humans forces would be down to minimal strength after only two more engagements.

At least that was what Admiral Allen wanted the Juireans to believe.

To the Human commanders, their plan was working perfectly. Soon the main Human fleet would be down to under half its original strength, making it an inviting target for the Juireans as the warring factions moved deeper into Expansion territory. And by that time the shadow fleet under Captain Schwartz would be almost double the size of the remaining fleet. If Schwartz could keep his force a secret up until the time of the final battle, the Juireans could be in for quite a surprise.

* * *

For the military leaders on Juir, it was time to plan the location for the final destruction of the invading Human forces. The reports from the second battle with the Humans had been very encouraging, surpassing even their most optimistic projections. The Human were falling like stalks of grotion weeds in a windstorm. At this pace, it wouldn’t be long before the Juireans would have an overwhelming advantage against the remaining alien forces.

The Juireans began to focus their attention on the planetary system of Falor-Kapel. They surveyed the lay of the planets, as well as the other assorted obstacles that could be used to their advantage. All available resources on this side of the Core would be sent there.

After a few more hit-and-run engagements, the trap would be set. And the Humans were falling right into it without fail.

Chapter 23

Pleabaen Linuso Summlin of the Klin was in receipt of two sets of intelligence reports, and when taken together, his heart began to race, a feeling of euphoria overtaking him. Could this be it? Could the time really be at hand?

Linuso chose to print out the two reports and lay them side by side on the table before him. Even though the practice was archaic, there was a sense of permanency associated with the plastic-infused paper. This was something he could hold in his hand, as opposed to a fleeting image on a computer monitor. And if the reports did foretell accurately the events to come, then these were documents that must be preserved for all eternity.

The first report was from the most-highly placed Convert in the Human fleet, a person named Noah Lukeman. Of course Linuso had never heard the name before, but the route the report had traveled to reach his eyes confirmed its authenticity. It told of the unexpected weakening of the Human fleet through the first two direct encounters with the Juireans to date. The losses were greater than had been anticipated, though acceptable. The Human Fleet was still a formidable force, adequate to do the job it was designed to accomplish. And now a third battle was on the horizon. If the casualties from this encounter were in the same range, then the Juireans would have no reason not to act.

And that was the theme of the second report, the one from the Klin spies within the Juirean High Council. For thousands of years, there had not been much that the Juireans did that the Klin were not intimately aware. Masters of negotiation and manipulation, the Klin had managed to build a spider-web network of spies and informants throughout the Expansion. Even though most of the Klin underground activities involved simply monitoring the Juireans, they occasionally practiced manipulation as well. At times false data was supplied, or a suggestion whispered; whatever the operation, the Juireans were nearly as gullible and susceptible to propaganda as were the Humans.

The second report relayed the information on how the Juireans were also fully aware of the diminishing strength of the Human invasion fleet. The Council had concluded that a decisive battle against the remaining Human forces could come as early as two months hence. At the pace of the supposed Juirean retreat—as well as the head-long and oblivious pursuit by the Humans—the conclusion of this phase of the war could soon come to a close. Efforts were in motion to assure that the Juireans would come to the same conclusion.

The Juireans were a pragmatic race. They had suffered considerable loss of credibility in the eyes of the other Members of the Expansion as a result of their first contact with the Humans. This was understandable, since so many of the Members had not experienced the more militaristic side of the Juireans—all the Members knew were the stories. There had been no need to show what the Juirean race was capable of militarily, at least not over the past thousand years or so. Now, in the face of this savage and primitive enemy, the strength and invincibility of the Juireans was being openly questioned throughout the galaxy.

So the sooner this conflict could come to an end, the better. And what better way to end it than with a decisive Juirean victory over the invaders.

Fortunately for the Klin, this final battle would not be as decisive as the Juireans wished. Drilling down in the Juirean report, Linuso found the tidbit of information he had been hoping to find. It was an admission by the Juirean Council that—even though the Human fleet may be destroyed in this great battle—the Elites were willing to sacrifice all their remaining military forces they had available on the Orumo side of the galaxy to eliminate the threat. Once the Humans were destroyed, then the Juireans would have ample time to rebuild their forces and return to Earth and put a final end to the threat. The need for a substantial reserve force would not be necessary, at least not at this time, not with the immediate Human threat vanquished.

This was all Linuso needed to know to allow this incredible feeling of joy flow through him. Four thousand years…and now the time was so close.

His most-senior Fellows had concurred with his conclusions. The time to emerge from the shadows was now upon them. The orders had been sent; the Klin fleet would be waiting. They would be in position as the mightiest clash ever between galactic forces was about to take place within the stellar system of Falor-Kapel.

Linuso smiled, a full-tooth grin that he was not ashamed to display. He wished he could be present to see the expression on the face of Hydon Ra Elys—his counterpart in the Juirean hierarchy—when Klin warships appear in the skies above Juir. What he would give to be in the room with Hydon, as four millennia of revenge rained down upon his precious homeworld. It would be worth sacrificing Linuso’s own life just to see it unfold.

* * *

High Fellow Hunlin Desnor did not like the Kracori Commander Jonnif, but the dark and brooding creature was obviously not going to leave his chambers until he received a comment. The hulking, yellowish-skinned beast with the solid black eyes had barged into Hunlin’s private sanctuary bearing a report just received from the planet Hyben.

It had simply been a fluke that the report had even been observed by a Klin agent sent to the planet to note the closing of the Juirean repair facilities there; the fact that the newscast had mentioned the deaths of Juireans had been what piqued the agent’s curiosity. Even though she knew the Juireans were at war with a race called the Humans, the death of Juireans this far into the Expansion was still an oddity.

The agent passed along the report innocently enough, not knowing that once it reached the Klin that its true significance would launch a complex series of events that would reach from the backwater world of Hyben all the way to Marishal, the titular home of the Klin.

Although the spy was not aware of its significance, the Klin computers immediately zeroed in on the name of Adam Cain. He was the Hman who had played a vital role in the propaganda campaign leading to the Juirean attack upon the Earth. It was Adam Cain who had been charged with directing the Juireans to the planet, resulting in the deaths of over one billion of his fellow natives. From the reports on Earth at the time, Cain had argued passionately that it was the Klin who had set all the events in motion, pitting the Juireans against the Humans. Fortunately, his argument had fallen on deaf ears, especially in the aftermath of the devastating attack.

However, Adam Cain escaped from captivity on Earth several months ago, and had been leading a resistance movement against the Juireans in Sector 17 ever since.

And now here was a newscast from the Sector 16 planet of Hyben, detailing how the terrorist Adam Cain had been captured by the Juireans—and was currently in transit to Juir for final judgment.

Initially, Hunlin had not assigned any special significance to this information; after all, the useful idiot Adam Cain would soon meet his maker at the hands of the merciless Juireans. But then another thought crossed his mind: what if Cain brought his beliefs concerning the Klin before the Juirean Council?

The Juireans carried in them an almost psychotic and manic fear of the Klin. Over the millennia, the guilt of the Klin genocide still weighed upon them. Hunlin feared that anything said about the Klin might be believed by the Council.

And what if the Juireans believed Adam Cain? What if they came to see that it had been the Klin all along who had maneuvered both the Juireans and Humans into a war with each other, when initially they had no reason to war in the first place?

Indeed. What if?

What if the Juireans came to see the Humans not as an enemy, but rather as just another victim of the Klin’s ultimate plot for revenge against the destroyers of their homeworld? What if they became allies instead of foes?

The possibility that Adam Cain could reverse the course of events already set in motion was a slim one, but the indomitable Human had already proven to be quite a resourceful adversary. Was this a risk High Fellow Hunlin was willing to take?

The solution seemed pretty straight forward and with little risk. Simply dispatch a small force to intercept the Juirean ship transporting Cain to Juir and either destroy it—killing Cain in the process—or take him captive. Internally, Hunlin considered the idea of presenting the troublesome Adam Cain to the Pleabaen as an attractive bonus to the current events playing out. It was a scenario he could not pass up.

Hunlin made a decision. He looked up at the still-waiting Kracoran.

“Send a force adequate to overwhelm the Juirean vessel carrying Cain. If possible, capture him alive for transport to Marishal. If apprehension is not an option, then destroy the ship. Either way, Adam Cain must not reach Juir alive.”

The Kracoran nodded sharply, once. “I will lead the force personally. I have longed for a chance to confront a Human directly.”

“That would not be prudent, Jonnif. I need you here with the fleet. Besides, we cannot risk your exposure this close to the end. There will be other Kracori on our ships. Make sure they do not have any contact with the Humans, if capture is the result of this operation. Is that understood?”

“Better than you can fathom, Hunlin. The Kracori are patient, yet even we have our limits.”

The large creature turned and left Hunlin’s chambers, not bothering with drawing the door shut when he left. Between the Juireans, Humans and the Kracori, Hunlin wasn’t sure which he hated most. As he walked across the room to close the door, Hunlin cast his vote for the Kracori. They were on his ship, while the Humans and Juireans were light-years away, preparing for the battle that would free the Klin from four thousand years of self-imposed anonymity.

Chapter 24

Kaylor and Jym’s Exitor-class spaceship—designated the JU-224 since most alien races did not name their ships—was well beyond the outer boundary of the Hyben system by the time Sherri awoke from her semi-comatose sleep. Tobias and Riyad brought her food and drink, and then allowed her time to make herself more presentable. Normally water was not a scarcity aboard modern starships, yet by the time Sherri had finished washing from her body all the traces of the planet Hyben, it was over two hours before enough could be purified for anyone else’s use.

Sherri dressed in a light blue tunic, tied her hair into a ponytail and then made her way to the common room. Jym was sitting at the auxiliary pilot station, casually munching on a piece of green Filiean bark, while Kaylor, Riyad and Tobias sat at one of the three tables in the room. Kaylor had a datapad placed before him.

Both the Humans rose from their seats when Sherri entered the room; Kaylor suddenly felt out of place and awkwardly stood up as well. Sherri grinned broadly as she sat down in the only vacant chair at the table.

“You appear to be feeling better,” Riyad said warmly.

“And you smell much better, too,” Kaylor added, “although more correctly, you’ve only returned to the normal scent for your species.”

Sherri patted his arm. “Thank you—I guess. And yes, I feel a thousand percent better.”

“How is that even possible?” Kaylor asked sincerely.

“Never mind, Kaylor.” She turned her attention to the two other Humans at the table. “Where’s Adam?”

“He’s about twenty light-years from here,” Riyad answered.

“Twenty light-years! We’ll never catch up—”

“Relax, Sherri,” Tobias cut in. “Riyad’s ship is tailing the Juireans. The Juireans may be fast, but they’re not traveling at full speed. Kaylor says we should catch up to them in about a month.”

“And then what?” she asked.

Riyad shook his head. “That’s just what we’ve been discussing. Even when we do catch up, we’ll just be two small Exitor’s up against a mid-level Juirean battleship. We may be fast and maneuverable, but we’re no match for a Class-3. I don’t know what we could do to stop them, without getting ourselves killed in the process.”

“We can’t just sit back and do nothing. The closer they get to Juir, the less chance we’ll have to save Adam.”

Tobias leaned back in his chair. “We’re open to suggestions. But we’ve just spent the last eight hours racking our brains for an idea, with no luck.”

Sherri turned to Kaylor. “Do you know anyone in this part of the galaxy who could help us?”

Kaylor’s head bobbed side to side. “The answer is no, unfortunately. My world is located in Sector 12 and I spent most of my time in the Fringe. I am not at all familiar with this part of the Expansion, and neither is Jym. Out here we are just as lost as you.”

“What about the other teams?” Sherri asked Tobias. “There were four of us operating, each with our own ship.”

Tobias pursed his lips and shook his head again. “They’re too far away to be of any help. Besides, after completing their missions, they’re on their way back to the Fringe, all except Kaylor’s and Riyad’s ships. I’m afraid we’re on our own.”

There was silence around the table for several minutes before Jym spoke up.

“They’re going to have to stop for recharging on the way to Juir. Trick them into letting you super-beings aboard so you can rescue Adam.” Even though Riyad could hear the condescension in the small, bear-like alien’s voice, he knew he meant no insult. Jym was simply prone to speaking his mind without hiding his emotions. It was a habit Riyad found perplexing, given Jym’s tiny stature. He wouldn’t have lasted an hour in the neighborhoods Riyad grew up in, not with that attitude.

“Jym is right!” Kaylor said. “They are a single ship traveling without support. The trip to Juir is long-range, even for a Class-3. Their generators will have to be recharged, just as ours will have to be if we pursue beyond a month.”

Riyad shook his head. “My Exitor has not been recharged since we left the Fringe,” he countered. “And it won’t have to be even if we returned there today.”

“Yes, but the journey to Juir is twenty times farther than it is back to the Fringe. That is why we needed a Class-5 to make it all the way to your Earth. And Earth is closer to the Fringe than the Fringe is to Juir.”

“Then that seems like our best option,” Tobias said, his mood improving dramatically. He turned to face Jym. “Way to go Jym; great idea.”

Jym just shrugged and turned back to his monitor. “Just made sense.”

Sherri was literally bouncing in her chair. “So when will they have to recharge—and where?”

Kaylor fingered the datapad sitting on the table. “I need to learn the maximum transit range for a Class-3 between charging, and then locate the major recharging stations between here and Juir. It will take just a minute.”

Tobias and Riyad began to talk with each other. “Class-3’s can land on planets, but it’s frowned upon,” Riyad stated. “They tear up too much landscape when they come in on gravity-drive, and they burn up most of their fuel landing chemically. More than likely they’ll opt for an orbital recharging. Either way, we’ll have to disguise ourselves as a recharge crew to get aboard.”

“Agreed,” Tobias said, his analytical SEAL mind beginning to work through the details. “Do you know anything about how a recharge crew operates?”

“Not a clue.”

“Hey you two!” Sherri said emphatically. “You’re not going in without me.”

Riyad smiled back at her. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides we can certainly use your skills in a fight.”

“There could be a problem,” Kaylor said looking up from his datapad. “Undoubtedly the Juireans onboard will be able to recognize a Human when they see one. After all, they are at war with your race and they have a captive Human aboard.”

“He’s right,” said Tobias. “The disguise will have to go beyond just walking the walk and talking the talk.” All eyes then fell on Kaylor. He noticed it immediately.

“What is wrong?” he asked nervously.

Riyad stretched his trademark grin at the alien. “It would really help if you could be part of the rescue team, as a way to distract the Juireans from us when we board.”

“No! I cannot be part of this. I will fly the ships and offer advice, but I am not a warrior—especially not against Juireans! The normal compliment of a Juirean Class-3 is over ninety beings. Ninety against six—if you include me and the two Humans you have on Riyad’s ship. Even with that, my assistance would not make a difference.”

“Sure it will,” Andy Tobias said. “All you have to do is get us past the front gate. We’ll do the rest.”

“What gate? Where is there a gate on a starship?” Kaylor was genuinely confused.

“It’s a figure of speech, Kaylor. Don’t sweat it.”

“Do not sweat what? This is getting far too complicated!”

The three Humans looked at each other with exasperation. Finally Riyad spoke up.

“At least we’ll have some time to bone up on how to pass ourselves off as a recharge crew. That part shouldn’t be too hard. Any luck with locating a charging station, Kaylor?”

It took a moment before Kaylor could shake the concerned paralysis that kept him staring at the Humans. When he was able to function again he looked down at the datapad.

“Since I do not know when the Juirean was last recharged, I have to assume a maximum range on a fresh recharge. That puts the planet Cesnick as a logical destination. If they do it sooner, then there is only one this side of Cesnick, and that would be Zinnol. If the Juirean does not want to push their range, then a recharge at Zinnol will get them all the way the Juir without a problem. But I am still not comfortable assisting you in boarding the battlecruiser.”

“How far are we from this planet Zinnol?” Tobias asked, ignoring the alien’s continued protests.

“It will take the Juirean fifty-two days to get there. At maximum drive, we could be there in forty-eight. We will have to recharge ourselves before we could continue any farther.”

Tobias smiled at everyone at the table, a big toothy grin that caused Kaylor to tense up. The SEAL had not been around aliens long enough to know that baring ones teeth was a sign of a death-challenge. That realization would come with time—or an accepted challenge. Those kinds of lessons were hard to forget.

“It looks like we have a plan,” Lt. Tobias pronounced proudly. “Progress is being made.” He then placed a hand on Sherri’s. “We’ll get him back, I promise. I’m not accustomed to leaving any of my team behind in the hands of the enemy. This will be just your basic extraction operation. A piece of cake.”

Sherri grinned back at the big bear of a sailor, yet with a look of sadness in her eyes. For all their boasting and bravado, she was hoping they wouldn’t be too late.

Chapter 25

The trip to Zinnol underscored the realities of interstellar travel. Nearly two months of being cramped up in a metal tube, interacting with the same people day in and day out, began to take its toll on the five occupants of the JU-224.

After the first ten days of learning all they could about recharging procedures, the planet Zinnol and their tentative assault plans, the remainder of the time was spent trying to find solitude from the others aboard the ship. The two aliens—Kaylor and Jym—seemed to better handle the boredom and cramped living conditions; after all they had spent the better part of their lives dealing with the time and distances involved in moving between the stars. The three Humans, on the other hand, were beginning to grate on each other’s nerves.

Lieutenant Andy Tobias stayed in contact with Riyad’s Exitor trailing the Juirean battleship. Aboard the ship were Navy Master Chief Geoffrey Rutledge and Petty Officer First Class John Tindal, two of the SEALs who’d accompanied Adam and his force from Earth. During the four strikes that team—Team Echo—made on Juirean recruiting meetings, Riyad and Tobias alternated with the two SEALs to make the hits. However, for the three missions Adam and Sherri had conducted, they were the only ones involved in the actual attacks. Kaylor and Jym manned the Exitor while the Humans were on-planet—killing Juireans.

Kaylor cranked up the well-intensity for the JU-224 and plotted a course for Zinnol which would get them to the planet four days before the Juireans, while at the same time avoiding the warship as it drew near the planet. The energy required did deplete their own modules, but their final destination was a recharging station. Replenishing their own energy levels once they reached Zinnol would be the first priority.

Needless to say, by the time the JU-224 entered the Zinnolean stellar system, its tiny crew were climbing the walls, ready for some action. The fact that Adam’s rescue would be the result—hopefully—was a welcome bonus.

Riyad’s ship—the Secura—had confirmed that the Juirean Class-3 was headed for Zinnol. Throughout its journey, the warship made a number of small course corrections toward the planet. Seven days out, Tobias sent an order for Rutledge to beat feet for Zinnol ahead of the Juirean and join the rest of the assault team at the main energy facility on the planet.

Exitors were small enough to land on the surface without too much difficulty, and there was an unbridled excitement aboard each ship when they finally joined up above the planet and began a slow tandem chemical descent for the sprawling, armpit-of-a-city called Ragnor Lin.

Zinnol was located in a yellow star system consisting of eleven planets, of which only Zinnol was habitable. The system sat isolated from any nearby clusters, providing just the right mix of void and interstellar matter for the optimal functioning of passing gravity-drive starships. Zinnol had served as a crossroads for most of the traffic in this section of the Expansion for nearly a thousand years; however, never during that time had it attained any great wealth of its own. Instead the planet’s population consisted of a menagerie of transient beings, most just passing through hoping to make a quick buck in the energy trade. But like so many others throughout history, the majority of their hopes and dreams went unfulfilled. The result on Zinnol—and Ragnor Lin in particular—was an incredible gap between the rich energy monopolies and everyone else. The dregs remained as a semi-permanent population, feeding on the transients, running scams, engaging in robberies and often resorting to murder in their efforts to survive another day.

Riyad had made planetfall on over a dozen worlds in his eight years in space, so even though Zinnol was bland and unimpressive from orbit, he didn’t really care. It was just another place other than Earth—and it didn’t even have a souvenir magnet he could buy to place on his refrigerator….

Throughout the years, Riyad had steadily built up a reckless self-confidence regarding his superiority to every new species he encountered. He knew this habit could get him in trouble, because somewhere in the galaxy there had to be a creature that could kick his ass. The fact that he hadn’t encountered said being as of yet didn’t alter the possibility. Yet no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it was better to be prudent than sorry, he couldn’t break the habit. Maybe once he met a real challenge, he might change his mind. But until then, he remained callus and unafraid when making a new planetfall.

Andy Tobias, on the other hand, found landing on an alien world an occasion for celebration. It didn’t matter whether the world was a stunning beauty or a dust ball like Zinnol, Tobias could always be found in the pilothouse, his eyes wide and unblinking, a grin on his face, watching the planet grow in the forward viewport. Riyad tolerated Andy’s enthusiasm as best he could. In a way his reaction was understandable, in another perplexing.

Tobias was an experienced Special Forces officer who had operated in nearly every corner of the planet Earth. He was constantly traveling to foreign countries and encountering other cultures. Making a new planetfall was very similar to that, in Riyad’s opinion. Yet to the American, every landing upon a planet was still exciting and awe-inspiring.

Riyad sat in a rear seat in the pilothouse of the JU-224, studying the expression on Andy’s face. In a way wishing he shared that same child-like enthusiasm for new people, places and things. Yet from an early age, Riyad’s demeanor and personality had been one of pragmatic detachment. He used people as a means to an end, rarely developing any deep feelings for other living beings. In a way, he was the perfect space traveler. Nothing shocked him, nothing impressed him. All that mattered were the missions he executed, which to him were more like games, to be planned, played and scored. His survival—often at the expense of others—was how he determined the final score.

Recently, however, he’d spent a lot of time around others who lived their lives more magnanimously, at service to others. Again, he could understand their motivations. What he couldn’t do was relate. Riyad Tarazi—native of Lebanon, terrorist by training, warrior by choice—was dead inside. This he acknowledged. This he accepted.

And now here he was, descending toward another alien world, inhabited by beings he didn’t give a damn about. He was once again on a mission—and undoubtedly—aliens were going to die during its implementation. Riyad tried to care. As usual, it just wasn’t happening.

* * *

The two Exitors landed about three hundred meters apart in a tremendous cloud of red dust. An electrostatic charge ran through the main viewport of the JU-224 keeping the dust from accumulating on its surface, and when the cloud dissipated, the occupants of the pilothouse got their first glimpse at the surface of Zinnol.

It was nearing dusk, and a dull yellow light cast deep shadows on the dozen or so starships parked randomly about. Beyond the monochromatic landscape, Riyad could make out a jungle of rusting towers, supports and other rigging of the energy generators about five kilometers away. The red dust was on everything, stirred by small dust devils dancing here and there. Now that the ships had landed, a number of beings were moving about the spaceport once again, nearly all wearing hats and with cloth bandanas covering their mouths and noses, resuming their duties, tending to the ships in the port.

The two Exitor-class starships were themselves in desperate need of recharging. Although the range of most ships was measured in the hundreds of light-years, eventually the cold-fusion reactors that supplied the power for the gravity-drives needed to be recharged. The handling of nuclear material had been perfected thousands of years before, to a point where it could be performed by barely-trained individuals. Yet still, the proper equipment was needed and procedures had to be followed. Riyad and his assault team had studied these procedures ad nauseam during the journey to Zinnol. Now they would see them in action—as well as firm up their plans for gaining entry to the Juirean battleship.

The crews handling the recharge of the Exitors would be land-based; the battleship’s recharging would take place in orbit. So for the next four days, Tobias and his team would have to locate an orbital recharging vessel, figure a way to make sure that ship got the assignment to service the Juirean warship, and then find a way to subdue its present crew and take their place when the time came. That was all, just a few pesky details still needing to be ironed out.

Within fifteen minutes of landing, Rutledge and Tindal came aboard the JU-224 for a quick, yet emotional, reunion with Tobias and Sherri. Riyad had smiled appropriately yet refrained from the hugs and backslapping. Once the assault team was all together, Lieutenant Tobias assumed command.

Kaylor and Jym would coordinate the recharging of the two Exitors, while Riyad and Sherri would shadow the crews, gaining information about their employer, the dispatch procedures and where equipment was stored. The three SEALs would prepare the weapons and gear for the assault, while also getting a lay of the land.

* * *

Sherri and Riyad went with Kaylor and Jym to make arrangements for the recharge of the Exitors. The gravity of Zinnol was about standard for the Expansion, somewhere around three-quarters that of Earth’s. Since the gravity aboard the JU-224 had been set at a compromise level for both alien and Human, all four of them experienced some relief in the lighter gravity.

The dusty atmosphere was difficult to breathe out in the open, so they hurried to enter one of the rusty tram cars that snaked their way throughout the area. Once the doors shut, the air was more tolerable, yet the smell nearly knocked them over. There was a crush of aliens of all kinds in the car, many sweaty and dirty, having just left their work shift for the journey to their homes. A couple of creatures with extremely long necks and two sets of eyes each, made some grunting sounds in their direction, scanning Riyad and Sherri up and down.

“That is an incredibly foul smell you are giving off,” one of the creatures said to Sherri. “Move away from me before you make me sick.”

Sherri looked the creature straight in his eyes. She had washed with a deodorant soap earlier and obviously it was strong enough to be noticed in the cramped quarters. She was insulted that a creature as filthy and disgusting as this one would be offended by her. But before she could fully react, Riyad had pushed his way between her and the four-eyed being.

Both of them were about the same size, and the alien appeared to be quite muscular. Maybe this will be the one, Riyad thought, with a trace of hope.

“Leave this one alone. She is my mate, and now you have offended me.”

The top set of eyes blinked rapidly, while the lower pair stared at Riyad. “Move out of my space, you grub-lover,” the creature said, no fear in his voice. “You smell new here, so you may not know who I am.”

Sherri took hold of Riyad’s arm. “Let’s not start anything. We have a job to do.”

Riyad continued to stare at the alien. “I know. I won’t cause too much of a ruckus.” Riyad placed a hand on the alien’s shoulder. “Yes, my friend, we are new here, and we just want to get along. But if anyone is going to move along, it will be you.” And with that, Riyad squeezed, enlisting an immediate groan from the creature. He buckled to the side, all this eyes blinking rapidly.

His companion moved closer to Riyad…which was a mistake. The Human jabbed the thumb on his free hand into the being’s stomach, sending him to the floor of the tram car, writhing in pain. Then Riyad released the first alien’s shoulder, allowing the injured creature to fall to his knees, rubbing the spot that Riyad had been holding.

Everyone in the tram began to move away from the two Humans, as a tense silence swept across the crowd. Riyad looked around, a wild, steady look in his eyes. Like in every community, there were the bullies, the blowhards. On Zinnol—or at least in this tram car—the two beings kneeling before Riyad were them. However, from the looks on the faces of the others in the car, Riyad hadn’t gained any gratitude for his actions. Instead the new bully in town was the dark haired creature with hair growing from his face.

“That was smooth; nothing like keeping a low profile,” Sherri whispered to Riyad.

“Just defending your honor, my lady. And by the way, you do smell fabulous this evening.” Riyad could hear the gasp throughout the tram car when Riyad flashed a wide, toothy grin at Sherri.

In the meantime, Kaylor and Jym had slinked farther into the crowd, wanting to detach themselves as much as possible from the two Humans. Sherri caught Kaylor’s weary eye and sent him a wink. Kaylor had seen this kind of behavior from the Humans far too many times before. It never ended well.

* * *

The tram dropped several of the car’s occupants off at the main surface recharge center on the northeast side of the spaceport. The team followed. Once out of the car, the other aliens scurried away quickly, while sending furtive glances back at the two Humans. Kaylor and Jym kept their distance as they entered the building, not wanting to be associated with the newcomers.

Inside the large boxy structure were several counters lining the outer walls, separated by partitions and each sporting their own signage. The room reminded Riyad of the car rental section of a large international airport back on Earth. The Humans couldn’t read any of the signs, but as they neared each counter, they heard a translation in their ears.

Kaylor moved up to one of the counters. “We need a recharge for two ships,” he said to the attendant behind the counter. The creature was very fat—round actually—with an equally round head placed atop the ball that was its body. It had no neck; instead the head simply rotated on top of its body. The being studied a monitor screen on the counter.

“Type of vessels and location?” it said in a surprisingly deep-toned voice.

“Exitors, both, located in spaces 234 and 235 in section four,” Kaylor replied.

The attendant entered data into its terminal. “What series are the Exitors?”

“Series Five-A.”

After a few more key strokes, the round alien looked at Kaylor. “That will be nine hundred thirty credits for each. Recharge can begin at Day8 tomorrow. Make sure access is granted.”

Kaylor counted out the credits. “There will be crew aboard to allow access. In addition, where are the orbital recharging terminals?”

“Next building over.”

After a few moments more, Kaylor was handed a datachip containing the details of the transaction and the four aliens left the building. They entered the next one over and found that the orbital ordering procedure was a little more complicated. Kaylor casually asked an attendant in one of the rooms how ship assignments were handed out. The answer depended on the size and make of the ship. The being behind the counter was taken aback slightly when Kaylor mentioned a Juirean Class-3. It turned out most Juirean ships normally traveled in convoys with their own energy support vessels. As a result, there were only a couple of contractors on the planet that could handle Class-3’s; her company did not.

After receiving the names of the contractors that did handle Juirean-size ships, the small group proceeded to the third floor in the building. Here the rooms were larger and better appointed. There were four large sections, each hosted by a reception station.

Again, Kaylor did all the talking.

“We are the advance team for a Juirean Class-3 which will be arriving in four days,” he said to the shocked being behind the polished stone desk. “I was told your company can handle the recharge.”

“Yes, we handle Class-3’s,” said the female creature. “However, there are security considerations when working on a Juirean.”

“I realize that,” Kaylor lied. “Do you have the proper clearances?”

“Yes, but only two of our ships are equipped for such a job, and one is on station already. You did say four days until arrival? If that is the case, then we should have either ship available.”

“How will they be dispatched?”

The attendant was surprised by the question. “No particular procedure,” the creature said slowly. “Whichever crew is in rotation would be the normal process.”

“What will be the cost?”

The attendant eyed the four aliens before answering. “You should know there is no charge for the Juireans. All energy modules come from them in the first place.”

Sherri stepped forward, placing her hand on Kaylor’s shoulder. “Please forgive my apprentice here,” she said warmly to the other female. “He is new and we were letting him experience an order on his own. Of course we know there is no cost for Juireans. Who doesn’t know that?”

“Apparently…he does not,” the clerk said pointedly. “I have had limited experience with Belsonians before, and from the ones I have met, they do not seem to be the smartest beings in the galaxy.”

“Far from it,” Sherri agreed, She shoved Kaylor behind her, seeing the ire building on his face. Riyad completed the action by placing Kaylor behind him and nearly out of sight of the attendant. “In truth, we have not had too many contracts for the Juireans. This ship is traveling alone without its normal compliment of support vessels. What of the other contractors here; do they also have the proper security to work on Juireans?”

“Only Travess,” said the attendant. And then she leaned across the desk, a little closer to Sherri. “In all truthfulness, since we will not receive a fee for the recharge, you are more than welcome to book the procedure through them. You know how demanding Juireans are. We would just as soon not bother with them.”

It was all Sherri could do to keep from laughing out loud. She was amazed at how alike most species were when you got right down to it. Each had their own wants, needs and desires, and more often than not, they overlapped among all intelligent creatures, no matter their point of origin.

“I completely understand,” Sherri said grinning—while keeping her lips together. “Since you know they’re coming, maybe you could tell the Juireans that all your recharge ships are already previously booked. I will certainly convey this to my superiors. That way Travess will naturally be awarded the contract, freeing your crews for actual paying customers.”

The alien beamed. “You would do that for me? I am in your favor. Without your forewarning, my company would have been obligated to take the contract. But in truth, I can certainly book the security ships on other vessels prior to the arrival of the Juirean, if even for simple maintenance. This is something I would not have done normally. That way I would truly have no ships available for the recharge should my schedule be checked.”

“I’m glad I could help. But between us, I do not believe I will approach Travess until just before the arrival. I will surprise them.”

After a few more moments of gushy thank you’s between the two females, the foursome left the building and returned to the JU-224

The Zinnol star had set by the time they arrived, and the moonless night would normally have been pitch-dark except for the countless lights coming from the buildings surrounding the spaceport. Like most centers catering to interstellar travel, this part of Ragnor Lin never slept. With spaceships arriving and departing at all hours, there was a constant need for service, be it for the travelers or for the natives just getting off work. The various businesses servicing the spaceport ran shifts around the clock. It was the only part of Ragnor Lin that looked to be even the slightest bit prosperous.

Back at the Exitors, the two aliens and five Humans felt satisfied with the progress made in the short time they’d been on the planet. Their ships would be recharged, they knew which company would get the contract to service the Juireans, and come the next day, they would scout the shuttle port located to the north of the commercial spaceport for the ships that would service the Juirean battleship when the time came.

Kaylor, however, was still upset at having been insulted at the dispatch office. How was he supposed to know Juireans weren’t charged for energy? He’d never worked in a recharge station before. Sherri and the rest of the Humans played with his emotions for a while, until they realized Kaylor was taking their ribbing seriously.

“Kaylor, we’re all friends here,” Sherri said finally. “We’re just having a little fun. You did great today, and with your help we have a much better chance of rescuing Adam.”

Kaylor relaxed a little, even though Sherri could tell he was still upset. “We still have a very dangerous task ahead of us, and the responsibility for its success will fall more directly on you Humans,” Kaylor said in an effort to dampen the good mood in the room—which had been achieved at his expense.

Yet even in the face of danger and uncertainty, the Humans continued to smile and joke among themselves. Kaylor grew more frustrated, and soon rose from the couch. “I am going to my room now. The recharge crews will be here early in the morning and I need my sleep.”

The Humans waited until he had left the room before they all let loose with a flood of laughter.

Jym, who had been seated next to Kaylor on the couch, also got up. “You Humans are a mean and cruel race.”

“Don’t take things so personally, Jym,” John Tindal said. “We’re just having a little fun. After all, it’s been a long time since we’ve had anything to laugh about.”

“Still, you hurt his feelings. I will now go to see if he is all right.”

To Riyad’s surprise, he found himself saying: “Tell him we’re sorry. Kaylor is an integral part of our team, as are you. Out of all the aliens I’ve met and associated with, you two are the only ones I call friends.”

Sherri was equally shocked by Riyad’s admission. He had always been the most cold-hearted creature she’d ever met, be it Human or alien.

The compliment was not lost on Jym, either. “I am grateful for your comments and will convey them to Kaylor. He will find them soothing, I am sure.”

After Jym left, Riyad looked around at the others, who were staring back at him with stunned looks of their own. Finally Riyad smiled and said, “What a putz!”

Sherri locked her eyes on Riyad. There may be hope for you after all.

Chapter 26

Early the next day the two recharge crews showed up right on time. There were five members of each team—for surface recharging. Since neither Kaylor nor Jym had ever been aboard a ship large enough to require an orbital recharge, they had no idea how many would be on those crews. That was something they would have to find out.

The most striking feature about the crew that showed up was their uniforms. Even though the ten workers consisted of beings from three different species, they all wore the same bright green outfits, custom-fit to their body style. They covered nearly every square inch of their bodies, leaving only their eyes to peer out through special goggles. The only two creatures not wearing the full-body uniforms were the two supervisors.

With the hazardous nature of the work, the uniforms made sense. They would also provide the perfect cover for the Humans in the assault team. Kaylor could go in dressed as a supervisor and help with the cover story. After all, everyone could recognize—and trust—a Belsonian.

The recharge crews also came with chests full of the necessary tools required to run exhaust tubes, insulted power lines and to help install the new power modules. These chests would allow the team to take ample firepower aboard the Juirean ship with them.

Chief Rutledge had trained Sherri and Riyad in the use of the Heckler & Koch MP7A1 submachines they had onboard. These weapons were part of the initial cache the SEALs brought with them from Earth. The MP7 was a Close Quarter Battle—or CQB—weapon, ideal for operations within houses, buildings, aboard seafaring ships—and even starships. It was lightweight and compact, with ample firepower to rip through any alien flesh or battle armor, yet not powerful enough to risk puncturing the hull. It also came with a 40-round magazine, which could come in handy against a force of over ninety aliens—the normal compliment of a Juirean Class 3.

As the Chief explained to Sherri and Riyad—the other three SEALs didn’t need instruction—the numerical superiority of the aliens could be overcome by locking down access points with sustained coverage. One well-placed and amply-stocked gunman could hold off an entire army if the attackers could only travel two abreast down a narrow corridor. And even a pile of dead bodies could serve as an effective barricade against an attacking force.

As it turned out, most of Riyad’s early training had consisted almost entirely of CQB techniques. Most terrorist firefights were planned for inside buildings, ships or airplanes. But as happened during previous missions with the SEALs, Riyad was in awe of their weapons, training and abilities. He thought that if Middle Eastern terrorists-in-training were to ever spend even a week observing the SEALs in action, the radical mullahs and sheiks would have had a much harder time finding gullible recruits for their jihads.

While the recharge was underway, Jym spent time in the Library researching the energy company known as Travess, and once the contract workers had departed, he called everyone to the landing bay of the JU-224 for a briefing. He brought slides.

“I have discovered information that even Kaylor and I did not know about power distribution within the Expansion,” the feisty little alien began. “It is true that the Juireans control it all. They maintain three planets just outside the Alliance Cluster where they produce the fissionable material that goes into the power modules. The process is very complicated and expensive, as well as restricted by the Juireans to only themselves and their designated contractors. In times past, there were literally a thousand such worlds where energy production was practiced. But as the Expansion took over, the Juireans strongly enforced the current embargo. Now only a few underground operations are in existence, and they are constantly sought out and expunged by the Juireans.”

Jym turned to the large monitor he’d set up earlier and pressed a remote control in his hand. The picture of a large building appeared, consisting of a long sloping roof and one tall side rising up perpendicular to the ground. It looked like a large pyramid laid on its side. “This is the Travess headquarters building on Sagus Un, on the Wanneus side of the galaxy.”

“Hold up there a minute,” Lieutenant Tobias called out. “I appreciate all the work you’ve put into this, Jym, but we don’t need a history lesson to mount this op. And what the hell is a Wanneus side of the galaxy?”

Jym regarded the much larger being for a moment, a look of defiance on his hairy face. When he continued speaking, his voice was lower and more cadenced. “Forgive me Andy Tobias, but I am just being thorough. Once you understand a brief summary of how energy is distributed throughout the Expansion, you might be better able to do your job.”

Tobias bristled and locked his jaw but remained seated. “Then by all means, please continue,” he said, his own voice an octave lower.

“The Wanneus side of the galaxy is the side where Juir is located. We are currently on the Orumo side. I do not know why they are called such but would be happy to research it for you.”

Tobias shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll take your word for it.”

“As I was saying, the Travess operation is headquartered on the Wanneus side of the galaxy about a hundred light-years from Juir. They are one of a hundred and twenty individual contractors the Juireans have chosen to distribute the recharged modules throughout the Expansion. They are quite a large company and are one of nine such operations here on Zinnol. But being one of the oldest and biggest, they are also one of only fifteen which can recharge Juirean vessels throughout the Expansion. They even supply most of the support energy ships for the Juirean fleet.”

Jym changed images on the screen, this time showing a boxy shuttlecraft with two large external chemical lifters attached to each side. In the forward section of the ship was a long tube extending out about twenty meters. The craft was painted in a bright orange with two green stripes running diagonally from the top of the fuselage and down around the side lifter units.

“This is a Travess recharging shuttle. A vessel like this is used to transport energy modules to orbit. Their fleet service ships are much larger, yet they are all painted with this same distinctive color and pattern.”

“Great job, Jym,” Tobias said, trying to smooth any ruffled feathers between him and the tiny alien. “They should be easy to spot in the shuttle port.”

“This is true. However, you must be instructed on how to approach a Juirean warship in orbit so as to not get blown to atoms by appearing to be a threat.”

Tobias raised his eyebrows. “Of course, Jym. Please continue with your briefing.”

The tiny bear-like creature was enjoying his moment in the spotlight before all the much bigger and stronger aliens. Using his controller, he sent out a thin red laser beam that pinpointed the long tube projecting from the front of the shuttle.

“This is the module transfer tube. Kaylor, I’m assuming you will be piloting the shuttle, which the Humans will have secured for you.” It was a statement more than a question, so he didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. He pressed the controller again and a diagram of a Juirean Class-3 battleship appeared on the monitor. With the pointer he highlighted a section of the starboard side of the starship, near the aft. “There is an access port located here which the module transfer tube connects. If you spend any time trying to locate the port, the Juireans may suspect you are not a real recharging crew. There will also be a very defined course to approach the Juirean ship, which hopefully is programmed into the shuttle’s nav computer. Otherwise Kaylor will have to use his best judgment on the approach and hope it works.”

Everyone took a moment to look at Kaylor, who began to squirm in his seat. Next to him, Sherri reached over and patted his arm. “I have confidence in you, Kaylor. You’re the best pilot I’ve ever seen.”

Even though her words made Kaylor feel better, she knew she wasn’t telling the full truth. Although Kaylor could pilot just about any spacecraft ever made, she had no doubt that Riyad, Adam and even Chief Rutledge were probably better pilots than Kaylor, based upon their natural coordination and reaction times. But for what he was expected to do, Kaylor was—well, adequate.

Jym continued. “Once you are docked, a two-being crew moves along the tube, transporting the modules. In the meantime, another access umbilical is extended from the top of the shuttle and the other members of the recharge crew enter the interior of the ship from a portal above…right here.” He pinpointed the location with his beam.

“Once onboard you will be in the main generator room. The fuel modules are placed in the reactors, of which there are a total of nine aboard a Class-3. You must take caution that the drained modules are removed first and placed in secure containers—”

Riyad raised his hand to get Jym’s attention. “You do realize we’re not going aboard to actually recharge the Juirean ship? All this is just an excuse to get onboard.”

Jym stared out at his audience. He looked disappointed. Sherri was sure he had an entire presentation prepared on exactly how to recharge a Class-3 starship, from start to finish. He looked back at his monitor and then to the silent audience.

“Of course, Riyad Tarazi, you are right.”

“So where do you think Adam would be kept onboard the Juirean ship? Do they have a brig—a jail,” Tobias said, allowing Jym an out.

“They do not have a jail. Adam Cain may be in the medical center, as a result of his injuries. However, that was over fifty days ago, and I have witnessed how fast Humans heal from injury. He should be fully functional by now.”

“So you have no idea where he could be?” Chief Rutledge asked.

“Impossible to tell, but there are two quarantine cells in case a crewmember is exposed to radiation or a foreign virus of some sort, although this is very rare within the Expansion.”

“Where are they located?”

Jym used his pointer to highlight an area to the port side of the medical center. “These rooms would be secure, and with locking devices.”

Lt. Tobias stood up and moved to the monitor. The medical center was located about a third of the way up the ship from the generator rooms and two levels above. That was a lot of territory to cover aboard a hostile ship. “Where is the main crew berthing areas, Jym?”

Jym seemed delighted that the Humans were now turning to him for expert advice. He stepped up to the monitor and pointed with his hairy hand. “Here and here, toward the rear of the vessel, on the same level as the main generator access. The generator rooms are four levels high, yet access is from the lowest levels.”

Tobias studied the diagram for several moments. The rescue team would have to navigate one of two long spine corridors, moving past the main berthing compartments, and then access the medical center level by moving up two flights of stairways—and that was even assuming Adam was in one of the quarantine cells. The team would have to move fully one-third of the length of the starship, and then return the same way. He had hoped for a clandestine operation, spiriting Adam away before being noticed. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Lt. Tobias turned to the others seated in the landing bay. “Our mission is not only to rescue Mr. Cain, but to also escape without gettin’ ourselves killed in the process. The only way to accomplish both objectives will be to take over control of the whole damn ship.”

Tobias heard the inhale of breath from the two aliens in the room; the Humans showed no emotion, appearing to be a step ahead of him in their assessment of the situation.

“The entire battleship!” Kaylor said, jumping to his feet. “That is impossible. There are only five of you against ninety enemy crew.”

“I know,” Tobias said, grinning at the excited alien. “Hardly seems like a fair fight—for us that is.” He looked in the faces of Rutledge and Tindal. “Be sure to pack a lot of ammo, boys. We’re goin’ huntin’.”

Chapter 27

Rutledge and Tindal headed out later that afternoon to scout the ships at the Orbital Assignment Staging Grounds, the spaceport where the recharge shuttles were parked. It was a smaller section of the main spaceport running along the northern side of the landing field. From a street outside the tall security fence, the two SEALs could clearly make out the rows of nearly identical space shuttles, all with the prominent docking tubes sticking out of their forward sections, just under the pilothouse viewports. All the shuttles were painted in distinctive colors and patterns, many with logos of the companies that owned them.

The distinctive orange and green of the Travess ships was clearly visible on nearly half the ships; Rutledge counted twelve of them just from what he could see through the fence. All the shuttles, however, appeared to be smaller than the one Jym had displayed in his presentation. The SEALs continued walking.

A little farther along, Tindal surreptitiously pulled out a powerful monocular and aimed it at the far end of the OASG. In the distance were four shuttles, larger than the others, surrounded by a secondary security fence and guarded by two very bored looking creatures. One Travess shuttle was sitting in plain sight of the street. The guards sat on a pair of chairs at the entrance to the secure area, protected from the hot, late-morning sun by a rusty, corrugated tin-roof awning, their flash rifles laid casually across their laps. One of the beings was eating something, while the other leaned back in the chair, his eyes closed.

The two men looked at each other and smiled. “Pretty laxed,” Tindal said.

“Seems to be the norm around here,” the Chief said. He looked up at the five-meter-high chain link fence. “Shouldn’t be a problem getting inside the perimeter. But we still don’t know how many hostiles we’ll be dealing with. A recharge team could consist of five men or twenty, we don’t know.”

“They might.” Rutledge followed the younger man’s gaze, focusing in on a group of blue-uniformed aliens, all with their hoods dangling down their backs, and entering a building across the street. As the door opened, the SEALs saw the darkened interior and heard the sounds of loud conversation punctuated by the clinking of glasses. It was a bar.

The men looked at each other again and grinned, their eyes lighting up. SEALs had a reputation for seriousness and dedication; they were also hard-charging party animals, familiar with every dive bar along the coasts of San Diego and southern Virginia—and it had been months since the two of them had last enjoyed a good brew.

Kaylor had divvied out a fair number of Juirean credits to each of the SEALs before they left on their recon mission, so the men were ready. They headed for the door with renewed purpose.

It only took a couple of seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dim light inside. As was expected, the odor was pungent, but in a moment Tindal and Rutledge had dismissed it as simply an occupational hazard. They spotted the group of recharge techs crowding around three tables off to their left. There were nine of them, and from the casually-unzipped uniform fronts, it looked as though they had just gotten off work.

The SEALs moved to an empty table next to the aliens and sat down. At the center of the table was the blood sampling device they were intimately familiar with; they slipped their fingers inside without hesitation. Once their drinks arrived, the men sipped on the potent alcoholic beverages and waited for the techs to loosen up after their first round of drinks. When the second round was nearly consumed, Tindal made his move.

He sent another round of drinks over to the aliens, who looked over at him almost in unison when the waiter brought over the glasses. Tindal wasn’t sure if this was kosher or not, but the near-instant compliments cast his way by the mildly-inebriated aliens put his mind at ease.

“We admire so much what you do,” he told the aliens, feigning an advanced state of inebriation. Rutledge played along as well. “We’ve come to Zinnol seeking work. Who do you work for?”

The nearest alien, a creature with some of the blackest skin he’d ever seen, yet with yellow eyes that glowed against the contrast, leaned closer to him. “We’re a Junfen ground crew. Just come off a triple charging today. That’s good credits, with the bonus.”

The others at the table all bobbed or nodded their various styles of heads in agreement. Out of the nine aliens seated at the tables, there were four different species of Primes represented.

Tindal looked over at Rutledge. “We’re more orbital ’chargers ourselves; came over from the Fringe. Anyone hiring for orbital crews?”

“The Fringe!” the gregarious, yellow-eyed alien exclaimed. “I hear it has been overrun by the invaders.” He looked back at his companions at the tables. “What are they called, Hubeens?”

“No, Humans,” corrected a furry creature seated at the middle table. “Supposed to be vicious flesh-eaters who don’t even bother to cook their kills first. They prefer the flesh of newborns, from what the reports say.”

“We’ve heard of this war,” Rutledge said, entering the conversation. “We left just before they arrived. That is why we’re here. Do you think the—the Humans—are coming this way?” The Chief was quick on his feet when it came to fabricating a story.

The furry creature—pretending to be the most-informed at the table—continued. “They’re coming this way all right, but the Juireans will stop them. There have been a lot of ’charging’s done on solo warships for a while, most heading for the Fringe. They’ll stop the invaders. No one can stand against the Juireans.”

“I hear the Juireans attacked their homeworld first,” said Rutledge, even though he regretted the statement the moment he said it. He knew better than to get into a political discussion in a bar.

“I heard that the savages tricked the Juireans and destroyed a peace delegation,” the know-it-all responded. “The Humans are not to be trusted.” All the drunken aliens nodded and bobbed their heads again in unison; Tindal was feeling the effects of the alcohol by now himself and nearly busted out laughing at the goofy, bobble-head scene.

The dark-skinned alien leaned over closer to Tindal. “Inside, we are growing worried. The Juireans are retreating in the face of the Human invasion. This is not something we are comfortable with.”

“Riella’s excrement!” the loud, furry creature shouted, overhearing the comment of his companion. “The Juireans will prevail. They must!”

Tindal dismissed the outburst. “So there should be plenty of work for orbital ’chargers; is Travess hiring?” Tindal asked.

“I believe so,” boomed another alien at the table nearest to Tindal, a pale green creature, huge, with bulging muscles stretching his uniform. “I’m working on a transfer myself. Orbitals pay better. But the security checks are tough for warship crews.” He looked around at his fellow rechargers and raised his glass, “But that only means more credits—and more mates in our pads!”

There rose from the three tables of aliens such a discordant and offensive sound as all four of the different species exhibited their own form of laughter. Evidently, the third round of drinks was having the desired effect.

Rutledge sent another round to the tables.

“Like my friend said, we are new here. Where do the orbital crews for Travess assemble? We would like to speak with them about employment possibilities.”

The loud, furry creature spoke up again, “You need to go to the dispatch building for hiring. The crews can’t help you.”

“We just want to speak with them about the work conditions for Travess.”

The black-skinned creature leaned over again toward Tindal, this time almost losing his balance as he did so. “They meet at Gate 43-B at the start of their shifts, all except the security crews. They enter through 43-A. You will not get on the security crews initially, not without working for Travess for a while or having prior security-team experience.”

Gate 43-A. Good.

Even as they spoke, Tindal couldn’t take his eyes off the light green creature with the muscles, a beast that looked like a smaller version of The Incredible Hulk. Even though the SEAL only had limited experience with the vast variety of aliens in the galaxy, he and Rutledge had yet to find any that challenged their skills, strength or coordination. However, this green creature was tempting. Tindal locked eyes with the creature.

“Your species is very strong, are you not?”

The alien was surprised by the question but did manage to fashion a grin of sorts. “Yes, we are. We are of the warrior class, and ones not to be challenged.”

His companions at the tables all laughed again and nodded, sharing an inside joke. Tindal cocked his head, questioning.

It was Tindal’s friend with the black skin who spoke next. “A few weeks back, Lornius was challenged in this very tavern by a Hedanlese. It was not to the death, but Lornius played with the offensive creature for several minutes before throwing it out on the street rather unceremoniously. You should have seen it!”

“I wish I had. Where we come from, we have a test of strength called arm-wrestling. Would you care to try it?” Tindal asked Lornius. Rutledge quickly leaned over to Tindal and whispered forcefully, “Knock it off, petty officer. This is not our mission.”

“It’s okay, Chief,” Tindal said, lifting from his chair. “I know what I’m doing.”

The aliens cleared a path for him. “First let us have this table,” the SEAL said, beginning to explain the rules of the game. “And then you and I sit across from one another, lock hands and then try to pull the other’s arm down to the table. First one to force the other’s arm down wins.”

Lornius appeared to beam at the simplicity—as well as the machismo—of the game. He displayed an overabundance of confidence as he moved into position. Tindal sat opposite the alien and they grasped hands. Immediately, Tindal noticed the mushiness of the flesh; he would have to be careful not to crush the creature’s hand.

Lornius had pulled back the sleeve of his uniform to display the mounds of rippling muscles. Tindal had never seen anything like it before, even on the arms of a world-class bodybuilder back on Earth. He was beginning to have second thoughts about the contest.

Petty Officer 1st Class John Tindal was no slouch himself when it came to muscular definition, but the alien’s arm was easily three times thicker than his. However, the SEAL had discovered that out here in the galaxy, size was not the only thing that mattered. In the four months that he’d been down-range with Adam and his team—killing aliens—it hadn’t taken him long to realize just how special Humans were in the whole scheme of things. But this could be different….

The alien eyed him good-naturedly, yet with a slight baring of his teeth through green lips. The other aliens were all whooping and hollering, enjoying every moment of the contest, and didn’t notice the slight implied challenge issued by the green alien. Rutledge stood near the back of the crowd, glowering at Tindal. There would be hell to pay once they got back to the ship—

“What now?” Lornius asked.

“Someone yells ‘Go’ and we start to push.”

“I will do it!” said the furry creature, forcing his way through the crowd until he stood next to the table. He looked expectantly at the two combatants…and then yelled “Go!”

Tindal felt pressure on his right arm, as The Hulk jerked suddenly, the muscles in his arm swelling even larger. But the Human’s arm didn’t move. Lornius looked him in the eye, concern replacing the previous toothy grin. Realizing that Lornius was doing the best he could against him, Tindal began to let his arm go slack. Slowly, The Hulk pressed Tindal’s arm closer and closer to the table. Tindal let the contest go on for about thirty seconds, doing his best Academy Award-winning performance to make it appear as if he was struggling mightily against the huge green creature. And when the back of his right hand finally touched the table, The Hulk released it and jumped to his feet, raising both his massive arms above his head.

“I have bested you!” he boomed, much to the joy and adulation of his companions.

Tindal rose dejectedly from his seat; Lornius halted his celebration momentarily. “You were a worthy opponent,” he said to Tindal. “At first I thought I would not be able to overcome. But then my superior strength won out—as usual!”

Tindal grinned and nodded. “Yes, you have bested me today. And now my companion and I must depart. The victory is yours to celebrate.”

“You do not have to leave,” Lornius proclaimed. “This was a game, not a challenge.”

“I understand that. But we must retire now to prepare ourselves for seeking employment tomorrow. It has been very enjoyable interacting with all of you this evening.”

As the two SEALs walked toward the doorway, Rutledge whispered, “You let him win, didn’t you?”

“Had to, Chief. I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his friends.” Tindal smiled. “It looks like even The Incredible Hulk isn’t much of a challenge for us.”

“Keep your big brass ones in your pants, Tindal. And next time I tell you to stand down, you had better follow orders.” The tone in his voice was unmistakable.

Tindal swallowed hard; the Chief was not someone you crossed. But, damn, that was sweet!

* * *

The two SEALs were not aware of the leather-skinned creature sitting near the horseshoe-shaped bar as he nodded to another of his kind near the doorway. The second creature slipped out the front of the tavern just moments before Tindal and Rutledge did, and sprinted around the nearest corner of the building. In the alleyway were four other leather-skinned beings.

“Two of them,” the scout said quickly, as he pulled out a six-inch long blade from a pouch under his brown vest. The other four creatures held knives as well, and two also carried clubs in their other hands. They fell back against the wall of the alleyway as they heard Tindal and Rutledge approaching.

These two have credits and they are weak and intoxicated, the scout thought. This will be easy.

Just as the SEALs came even with the alleyway, three of the creatures jumped out in front of them blocking their way, while two more slipped in behind. They brandished their weapons at the two half-drunk SEALs.

“Give up your credits and other valuables!” The scout said, waving his blade rhythmically back and forth in front of the two men.

Tindal and Rutledge stopped and looked at each other, wide grins spreading across their faces, their eyes lighting up. Rutledge was the first to move. He reached out and grabbed the scout’s blade arm, pulling it towards him, and then in one continuous move, he tucked it under his right arm and spun to his left, kicking out with his left foot, contacting one of the creatures behind him in the chest. He twisted his body sideways more and felt the scout’s knife arm bend upward at a totally unfamiliar ninety-degree angle. The alien gasped sharply as his arm snapped, before vomiting and passing out. The one behind him felt the cracking of his sternum—or whatever bone was in the center of its chest—before falling to the ground.

In the meantime, Tindal had reached out toward the closest alien to him and snatched his blade away, like the tongue of a frog catching a fly. The move was so fast that Tindal had already plunged the knife back into the being’s chest before he even knew the weapon had been taken from him. Next, the Human threw a lightning-fast right cross into the face of another of the attackers. His fist impacted the skull, deforming it to half its original diameter. He followed this up with a round-house kick into the side of the creature behind him. The leathery being flew through the air and landed near the middle of the street, its body bent in places that were not meant to bend.

The attack lasted four seconds, and now five aliens lay either dead or unconscious around the two SEALs. The men surveyed their handiwork while also looking up and down the street to see if anyone had witnessed the massacre. Satisfied they were unseen, Tindal slapped Rutledge on the shoulder, “Uh-rah!” he said to his grinning Navy Master Chief. They left the carnage behind, continuing on their journey down the sidewalk and back to the spaceport, laughing and singing off key, “We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz!”

* * *

Even though Lt. Tobias was grateful for the intelligence the two SEALs provided concerning the recharging crews, he was livid at the unnecessary attention they had drawn to themselves. Arm wrestling aliens and deadly street brawls—and all in the span of three hours. Such reckless behavior was to be expected out of the fiery young petty officer, but not from the Master Chief.

“Sorry, sir,” Rutledge said as the two enlisted men stood at attention before the Lieutenant. “No excuse—it’s just that we’ve been cooped up inside these spaceships for way too long without some action.”

“Well, Chief, the day-after-tomorrow we go down-range again for some real superman-type action. You two had better keep your shit tight or it’ll be the last action you ever see—and you could also get the rest of us killed in the process. Think on that for a while. Now get the fuck out of my sight!”

Tobias watched the two men sheepishly leave his quarters. After the door closed, a wide grin stretched his face. God, I wish I could’ve been there!

Chapter 28

Tobias couldn’t trust Rutledge and Tindal to be out in public the next morning scouting the recharge crew assembly area again, especially with all the newscasts talking about the killing of three creatures and the crippling injuries suffered by two more outside the tavern the day before. He and Sherri went instead and stationed themselves in an eatery with a clear view of Gate 43-A of the OASG.

The orbital crews came and went, and it was easy to identify the Travess crews by their distinctive uniforms. But what made the recon especially gratifying that morning was the witnessing of the module supply transport arriving at the security gate. It was a large black truck with sixteen wheels and easily measuring twenty meters long. It moved through the gate without fanfare and pulled up next to one of the large recharge shuttles. There was a flurry of activity as crewmembers offloaded the contents of the truck, placing the oblong metal canisters on a conveyor belt that delivered them into the ship. These were the energy modules Jym spoke of.

As Tobias watched the activity through a palm-sized spyglass, he figured this made sense. He was sure the modules had to come in a variety of shapes and sizes to accommodate the various makes of starships coming and going from Zinnol, so each job would require a new supply of the appropriate units.

This could also be their way into the compound.

Tobias made a call on his secure comm device to the JU-224 and told Riyad to rent a transport as soon as possible and then meet them at the eatery. His plan was to follow the supply truck to its origin and figure the best place to pull off a hijacking.

Sherri and Tobias sat nervously waiting for Riyad to arrive, hoping that he would get there before the truck left the spaceport. Their hopes began to fade when they saw the huge truck making its way toward the security gate—and still no Riyad. The Juireans were arriving the next day, so they only had one crack at this.

The truck passed through the gate and turned right, heading south past Tobias and Sherri. The two Humans stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant and watched their best chance of rescuing Adam speed past.

And then Riyad pulled up to the curb. Sherri and Tobias flung open the doors and jumped in. Riyad sat at the controls, grinning. “What’s up?” he said, not sensing the urgency.

“Follow that truck!” Tobias yelled looking over his shoulder in the direction Riyad had just come from.

“What—”

“That truck—follow it. Hurry!”

Riyad shoved the center joystick forward and twisted it to the left as he did. The transport surged ahead, making a sharp U-turn in the middle of the street. Another transport on his side of the street nearly hit him, but instead swerved onto the sidewalk and slammed into the front façade of the restaurant Sherri and Tobias had just left. Glass and pieces of plaster cascaded onto the transport, nearly covering it completely. Half a dozen creatures ran out of the building in a panic.

By this time, Riyad had sped off in the opposite direction, snaking his way between other vehicles until he was only twenty meters behind the huge module truck. The massive vehicle was easy to spot, not only from its length but also its height. Once they were in a comfortable location behind it, the Humans relaxed.

“So what’s in the truck?” Riyad finally asked.

“With any luck, tomorrow it will be us,” Tobias answered. “It’s a supply truck for the energy modules. If we can intercept the one restocking the Travess ship for the Juirean run, then we can load it up with our equipment and drive right up to the front door of the recharge shuttle. After that, it shouldn’t be too hard to overpower the crew and take over the ship.”

“Sounds like something that can work—if the hijacking isn’t reported first.”

“The offloading of the modules takes about an hour from what we’ve seen. We should be at the Juirean ship by then.”

“Still, it would be nice to have a diversion down here on the ground that will give us some leeway.”

“What do you have in mind?” Sherri asked. She had been around Riyad long enough to know that he didn’t throw out a hypothetical like that without already having a plan.

“My ship, the Secura.”

“What about it?” It was Tobias’s turn to ask the questions.

“Once we get Adam and rendezvous with Jym, we probably won’t have an opportunity to come back down here to get it before all hell breaks loose. So let’s use it to cause a diversion as we’re leaving.”

“Go on,” Tobias said. “I kinda see where this is goin’.”

“We have Kaylor set up a remote control so we can have it launch—and then crash the ship into the recharge spaceport. That’ll cause such a mass of confusion down here that nobody will know what’s going on for days or weeks. And we’ll be long gone by then.”

Tobias looked back at Sherri sitting in the backseat of the transport. “Damn, that would help,” he said.

Sherri nodded. She knew that Riyad was a master at staging spectacular events—you might call them—and she also knew he didn’t give a second thought about the death and destruction his diversion would cause. But he was right. It would buy them extra time as well as effectively cover their tracks.

“Let’s do it,” she said. “After all, this is war.”

Chapter 29

They followed the large truck for another thirty minutes before it pulled up to a massive row of buildings at the south end of the city. There were five structures, each twenty stories tall and with towering smokestacks jutting even higher from their roofs, white smoke or steam billowing out of each one.

Beyond the wire security fence, they watched as the black truck joined a half dozen others just like it near the buildings; they also saw nearly a hundred of the much smaller ground-based supply trucks, like the ones that had arrived at their two ships the day before. Apparently the large black trucks were reserved for the orbital recharges, which required larger and more numerous energy modules, in addition to the storage equipment for the highly radioactive containers, both going and returning.

Along the way to the energy facility, Tobias and Riyad spotted four or five decent ambush points for the hijacking. The plan was simple. They would get a second rental transport and station Kaylor in it as a lookout for when the black truck passed along the route. Then Riyad’s rental would be used to block the path of the truck at a designated point away from inquiring eyes. The SEALs would descend on the vehicle and secure the target. Next, they would transfer the weapons cache to the black truck and all pile in for the journey to the spaceport.

Getting past the guard at the gate was another matter and would have to be improvised. Yet as the trio of Humans drove back to the spaceport, they were feeling confident that the minor details could be worked out on the fly. With Riyad’s plan to crash the Secura into the spaceport, all they needed was the time to get off the planet without the alarms going off. After that, the beings on the surface would have no way of telling that the black truck had been hijacked. They would assume it had been destroyed in the crash. And with the radioactive nature of not only that truck but several others in the area, the whole place would be quarantined for the time it took to clean up the mess.

By then, Adam would be safely back in their hands and headed home. At least that was the plan.

* * *

The rest of the day and night was spent preparing for the operation. Kaylor was able to fashion a device that would allow him to control the Secura remotely, as least for basic maneuvers like lift off, followed by a sudden descent straight into the OASG. The crash would be spectacular and leave an area easily a kilometer square in total ruin, with radioactive fallout extending even farther.

Rutledge and Tindal avoided their still pissed-off Lieutenant and concentrated on filling two crates with all the weapons and ammunition they had aboard both ships. They threw in a few MK’s and flash rifles, yet the bulk of their firepower was in the form of good old fashion Human armament, comprised mainly of the Heckler & Koch MP7A1’s and the 4.6X30mm hollow-point rounds they used. Just for good measure, they also included a few of their trusty M4A1’s. Old habits die hard.

The night was spent in restless anticipation of the coming day. Sherri, Kaylor and Jym had difficulty falling asleep, but not so the SEALs and Riyad. They had been through so many battles in the past, that this part of the operation was second nature to them. They had been trained that sleep was also a weapon, and that a well-rested soldier was an awesome asset to have in battle.

Eventually the new day dawned, and whether they had slept well or not the night before, the thrill of adrenalin now took over the team.

It was game time.

Chapter 30

As it was with most plans devised by the SEALs, the first part went off without a hitch. The black truck passed Kaylor’s position as planned, and the SEALs were able to stop it and subdue the driver without too much drama. The single driver had no idea what was happening, lacking the entire concept of why his truck would even be the target of a crime in the first place. The creature had obviously never spent time in Detroit….

He compliantly submitted to the hijacking.

The weapons were soon stored in the cavernous rear section and Kaylor joined them for the ride to the spaceport.

The driver of the truck was a Prime who stood about two meters tall—about normal for the majority of races in the Expansion—and with features not unlike Riyad’s with a full beard. They found a Travess uniform inside the truck and Riyad changed into it, pulling the hood over his head. The driver wasn’t wearing a uniform, just civilian clothing, but Riyad figured he’d deal with that fact later if it came up.

With the rest of the team hiding in the back, Riyad pulled the huge truck up to the security gate. The bored guard glanced up at the cab and called out, “You will be assisting with the offload this day?” The tone was more one of idle curiosity rather than a serious inquiry.

“They are short-handed this day, so yes, I have to help.” Riyad mumbled, so as to not draw too much attention to his voice.

The guard didn’t comment. He pressed the release button allowing the gates to separate. He didn’t even watch as the huge truck rumbled past, but rather returned to his seat next to the other guard, who was engrossed in the screen of a datapad sitting on his lap.

The next stop would be at the only shuttle in this part of the spaceport baring the Travess colors. True to her word, the dispatch clerk for the other company had sent her ships off on different assignments, leaving the Travess ship the only one available to meet the Juirean.

In the back of the truck, the SEALs and Sherri geared up. Their weapons carried suppressors, which would dull the sound of firing, but not mask it completely. They would have to move fast once the recharge crew gathered around the rear of the truck for offload, possibly using their superior strength to subdue the crew rather that with gunfire. There were still other orbital crews around the area, just not members of the security-cleared crews.

Tindal and Rutledge crouched near the rear of the truck, anxious for the time when the door would open wide. They heard the latches unhook, and then a shaft of light burst into the truck. The door swung wide, and the SEALs jumped to the ground, aiming their weapons from their cheeks at the startled aliens surrounding them.

No one moved, until one massive creature with light green skin stepped forward, a grin on his face.

Tindal’s eyes grew wide. “You! What are you doing here?” he blurted out.

“I said I was transferring,” replied the creature Tindal had nicknamed The Incredible Hulk two days before. “But I should be asking you the same question. And are those weapons you brandish?”

Tobias and Sherri had also jumped out of the back of the truck and taken up flanking positions next to the SEALs. The other aliens noticed the weapons and had moved to hide behind the massive green creature as best they could.

“Look, we don’t want to hurt anyone,” Tindal said. “All of you just move quietly and quickly back inside the shuttle and there’ll be no trouble.”

Lornius looked over at the other three Humans standing at the rear of the truck, yet eventually locked on Tindal. “Hurt anyone? I am not afraid of you, weakling. And I do not recognize your weapons.”

“A friend of yours?” Tobias asked, leaning in closer to Tindal. “Remember, we don’t want to use our weapons unless we have to. Deal with this.”

Tindal nodded, and then flung his HK over to Rutledge. “Hold this for a minute, Chief.” He then looked at Lornius and smiled, a grin so wide, bright and toothy that its meaning was unambiguous to the hulking alien.

In a fit of anger, Lornius rushed forward, his massive arms leading the way, no fear or uncertainty in his charge. Tindal let him come, and at the last moment, slipped to his left while lashing out with his right fist. The blow caught the larger alien under the right arm pit, forcing a tortured cry of pain from The Hulk. Lornius twisted toward Tindal, just in time to catch another powerful blow across his chin. He blinked several times as a dull glaze crossed his face. And then Tindal—not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer—moved in closer and raked his right elbow across the head of the already disoriented creature.

Lornius’s eyes rolled back in his head and he tumbled backwards, landing in a cloud of light red dust in front of the other shocked members of his crew. By the time the reality of The Hulk’s defeat had dawned on them, Tobias and his team had moved up and were herding the crew back toward the recharge ship.

In a moment, they were all inside, with Kaylor and Sherri standing guard while the SEAL’s and Riyad returned to the truck to offload the weapons and ammunition. They each took a side of a crate and pulled it off the truck, stepping around the unconscious hulk of green alien lying on the ground.

“That must have felt good,” Rutledge said as he and Tindal carried the crate past the body.

“Almost better than sex, Master Chief. Almost.”

As soon as both crates were on the recharge ship, Kaylor moved to the pilothouse with Riyad a step behind.

“Any word on the assignment yet?” he asked the alien.

“I am checking. I do not see anything yet.” Kaylor scrolled through a number of the screens so fast that even Riyad was impressed. He stopped at one. “Excellent! Here are the instructions for approaching a Juirean ship. I was worried about this part of the plan. I now have a guide—”

He stopped abruptly as a transmission came through on the comm channel. It was a digital message of considerable length. Kaylor keyed the board for the message to be displayed in Belsonian, his native language. He began to read.

“Here it is. It is the contract, and with instructions to proceed after module-loading to the Juirean battlecruiser now entering orbit. It has worked! The plan has worked!”

Riyad grinned. “Did you have any doubt, my friend?”

“Yes, of course I did. Jym even calculated the odds at less than twenty-percent for success.”

“He did? And yet you’re still here with us, as part of the Team.”

Kaylor was silent for a moment, yet his eyes glowed with a brightness Riyad had not noticed before. “You are correct. We fight alongside the Humans now, come victory or defeat.”

Riyad placed a hand on Kaylor’s shoulder. “Glad to have you along, Kaylor, and your little friend, too. Now let’s get Jym airborne and prepare for the destruction of the Secura. Our day is just beginning.”

* * *

Jym expressed gushing relief when he received the call from Kaylor instructing him to take off and proceed to the waiting point in orbit above Zinnol. Then once all the weapons were secured and the alien recharge crew stripped of their uniforms, tied up and locked away in the aft cargo hold, Kaylor began the liftoff sequence for the recharge ship. They would start out on chemicals, and then transition to gravity-drive once they reached an altitude of about twenty kilometers. After that, it would only be twelve seconds before they would be back in space.

Kaylor began the approach maneuvers long before the Juirean ship was even visible. The procedure called for a lineup a hundred kilometers out, and with no deviation allowed; the Juireans needed ample time to analyze the approaching vessel to determine its credentials. Once verified, the Juirean sent out a transponder beam that Kaylor was to follow precisely to the docking port.

Tobias, Sherri and Riyad were in the pilothouse of the shuttle, dressed as best they could in the Travess green and orange uniforms. The outfits the two men wore fit fairly well; Sherri on the other hand was having trouble breathing in hers—the cut of the outfit not allowing for Human female breasts.

“It’s time, Kaylor,” Riyad said. “Let’s do it.”

Kaylor took out the small control box he carried in his utility pouch and turned it on. There was a small joystick and monitor screen on the box. The Belsonian began to operate the controls with skill.

“I’ve activated the chemical drive,” he narrated, watching the screen on the box. “Gaining altitude, now at five kilometers—as you Humans measure it. That should be sufficient. We would not want any defense utilities to have time to counter the attack. Beginning the descent.”

Riyad peered over Kaylor’s shoulder at the tiny screen. All he could see was a representation of the surface of the planet and a tiny white dot above it. The dot moved abruptly, angling back toward the ground. It was over in a second.

“Impact. On target,” Kaylor reported without emotion.

“Good,” said Lt. Tobias. “Now they have a lot more to deal with down on the surface than just a hijacked supply truck. Let’s get ready to rumble.”

Kaylor looked back at him; Tobias stopped the line of questioning with his raised hand. “Let it go, Kaylor. Just let it go.”

Chapter 31

All five Humans were now suited up for the coming assault. Since they would be going up against energy weapons, they chose not to wear the normal military tactical gear, including flak jackets. Instead, they began with Adam’s single-shot diffusion shield outfit. This was a tunic that had been fitted with dozens of wires forming a mesh. If struck by even a level one bolt, the charge would dissipate along the wires, greatly reducing the effect. However, when hit, the wires would heat up and melt, making the suit good for only one shot.

Over the tunics, they dressed in the Travess recharge uniforms, which they had learned were a basic protection against the radiation leaking out from the various modules and generators.

The team had taken several of the extra uniforms and cut them into capes. The colors and fabric matched the uniforms; they hoped the crew of the Juirean ship wouldn’t think anything about the unusual garb. Under the capes they would hide their weapons.

They each carried HK MP7A1 submachine guns. They were lightweight weapons designed for Close Quarter Battle, with 40-round magazines. The extraction team carried four extra magazines each. The barrels had suppressors attached to them, extending the normal 7.1-inch long barrel by six inches. This would negate some of the CQB effectiveness of the weapon, but it would also muffle some of the sound of fire as well.

Also, they each carried four slide grenades, which they hoped they wouldn’t have to use. Setting off explosives inside spaceships was always a touchy affair; breaching a hull would cause a whole set of additional problems for the team.

Kaylor followed the homing beacon to the docking port, slowing the shuttle until its long snout entered the open portal with almost sexual tenderness. The tube had a long, articulated conveyor belt running through its length on which the energy modules would travel. It was wide enough for two technicians to move along each side. Sherri and Chief Rutledge would enter the Juirean ship through the snout.

The rest of the team would enter through the main hatchway above the docking port. Kaylor would lead the way, adding credibility to the team’s identity with his easily-recognized alien pedigree. There was a good possibility that the crew of the Class-3 would recognize Humans if they looked close enough. After all, their prize cargo was the Human terrorist Adam Cain. Many of the crew may have gotten a look at him, simply to put a face on the enemy.

Luckily, the recharge uniforms consisted of full-head hoods, as well as respirators and goggles. These would hide the Human’s identity from casual scrutiny. What the team didn’t know, however, was how involved the ship’s crew would be in the recharge operation. It was a large ship, and the normal install compliment from the surface was nine technicians. There were only six of them. This could raise some questions if a lot of the ship’s crew was hanging around.

* * *

They stood before the gaping entrance to the shuttle’s snout as Lieutenant Andy Tobias surveyed the eyes of his team. Except for the look of sheer terror he found in Kaylor’s, the rest of them met his gaze with firm determination. This is what they had come all this way to accomplish. It was time to rock and roll.

Tobias nodded at each of them in turn. “Maintain radio communications throughout. Okay, let’s move out. Let’s go find Captain Cain.”

Sherri and Chief Rutledge tucked their weapons under their capes and moved into the snout. They had loaded some actual energy modules onto the conveyor belt, just for effect. The journey through the hatchway into the Juirean ship only took ten seconds. At the end of the snout were the controls for the conveyor; Sherri turned it on while Rutledge opened the hatch.

The view inside the generator room was impressive. It was cavernous, towering fifty meters high, and snaking along the floor was a complicated array of conveyor belts on runners—like one would find in an airport baggage handling room back on Earth. None of the belts were moving at the time, and as Rutledge stepped inside the room, he was relieved to see no aliens were present. The Chief slipped his arm under the cape and felt the reassuring coldness of the MP7.

The first module reached the end of the snout’s conveyor and was transferred to the mating belt in the room. Sherri and Rutledge tensed as the entire elaborate system of conveyors in the room suddenly came to life and began to transport the first few modules on the belts, sending a clacking noise echoing throughout the room.

An alien stepped into view, standing on a catwalk along the opposite side of the room and two stories up. The creature—a non-Juirean—was wearing a brown uniform, similar in design as their own, just a different color. The creature appeared to have a small datapad in his hands.

Rutledge raised his hand to the alien, acknowledging his presence. The alien looked up from the pad and stared at the Human for a long moment before slowly returning the gesture. The creature then went back to the datapad. Sherri and Rutledge looked at each other without saying a word.

Tobias and the rest of the team had moved up the long umbilical and entered the ship two stories above the ground floor of the generator room. They were in an airlock; the door cycled through and then opened. Two aliens were there to greet them.

Kaylor stepped up carrying a datapad. He stood silent as the two aliens stared at him, an awkward uneasiness filling the room.

“We are here for the recharge,” Kaylor finally said.

The two aliens looked at each other. Then the taller of the two looked back at Kaylor. “Of course you are. Why else would you be here? I need to see your manifest.” The tone of the creature’s voice suddenly grew suspicious.

Tobias had seen enough. They were in an enclosed room, unseen by others, so he stepped forward and swung his HK from under his cape, striking the taller alien under the chin with the stock of the weapon. The creature’s head snapped back, while its body remained still. The SEAL could see how the head had broken completely loose from the neck, held in place only by the skin of the alien. Even before the body of the taller creature collapsed to the floor, Tindal moved forward and used his hands to grasp the head of the other alien and then twisted it to the right with a sudden jerk. He released his grip and the two aliens fell to the floor in unison.

“So much for talking our way through this,” Riyad said, placing his hand on Kaylor’s shoulder. “You tried, my friend.”

“I am sorry,” said Kaylor, his voice an octave higher than normal. “I did not know what else to say.”

Tobias turned back to the alien. “No problem. See if you can find a computer terminal to tap into. Try to find where they’re keeping Adam. Let us know your progress as soon as possible.” The lieutenant turned to Riyad and Tindal. “Move out.”

Tobias slid open the door and stepped into a long hallway. He was relieved to find no other aliens. About twenty meters down the hallway would be the exit into one of the two main corridors running the length of the ship. The plan was for them to move into the hallway and then up two levels to the medical center. Located next to Medical were the two quarantine cells where they hoped to find Adam. If Adam wasn’t there, they would be royally screwed.

The corridor changed into a catwalk, which on the left looked down into the large expanse of the generator room below. They saw the maze of conveyors, now running, with a clanking din rising up from the floor. Several modules were moving out of the snout and onto the conveyor system. Sherri and Chief Rutledge were standing at the docking hatch.

Tobias and Rutledge made eye contact and the Chief nodded across the room. Tobias followed his motion and saw the other alien standing on the catwalk. The creature noticed the gesture as well and looked over at the railed corridor where the other three Humans stood. The creature looked confused.

Not waiting to figure out what they were doing wrong, Tobias swung his MP7 from under his cape, raised it to his cheek and depressed the trigger. The shot was true, striking the alien in the chest. Tobias looked down at Rutledge and motioned with his hand in a chopping motion, indicating for the two of them to move out toward the central corridor on the opposite side of the room. Sherri and Rutledge took off, as the trio of Humans above them stood guard.

There was a stairway across the room and the two scaled it easily, placing them now on the same level as the other three. Together Tobias and Rutledge opened their respective doors to the main corridor. They stood back, and then did a quick look inside. What they found were four aliens in the hallway, moving as a group between the two doors. They were walking toward Tobias’s location and they spotted the lieutenant as he poked his head into the corridor but didn’t seem to comprehend the movement. Rutledge stepped into the corridor behind them and opened up with his MP7. The muted puff-puff of the weapon still echoed on the metal sides of the corridor more than he liked, but the four aliens were soon on the floor, all dead.

The team joined up in the hallway and began to move toward the forward section of the ship. About ten meters farther along would be the entrance to the starboard crew quarters. They proceeded with caution.

The entrance to the berthing quarters was wide and it was open; on impulse, Riyad tucked his weapon under his cape and casually stepped inside. The room was open bay, with thirty sleeping modules forming three long rows. Each module consisted of a large, rectangular box measuring about three meters tall by about four meters long. Doors were slid to the side, revealing the interiors of several of the units, where a number of aliens of a variety of species sat on padded cots, each engaged in idle activities. The Juireans in the crew would be housed in more luxurious accommodations in the forward section of the ship. These quarters were for the non-Juireans.

The aliens seated on their beds looked at Riyad with no apparent curiosity. His orange and green recharge uniform stood out, but no one seemed to be that concerned with his presence.

He backed out of the room without incident.

The rest of the team slipped past the portal and toward a stairway leading upward on their right and down on their left. Tobias led the way, with Tindal guarding their six.

Another alien appeared at the top of the stairway and began to step down. He looked up and noticed the team, a blank expression crossing his face. Tobias jumped, scaling half the stairway in a single bound. He was upon the alien in a second, his K-BAR knife drawn. He spun the alien around and slit its throat in a quick, fluid motion and then tossed the now-dead alien down the stairway and into Riyad’s waiting arms. The blood from the alien stained the front of his uniform as Riyad stuffed the now-limp body into a corner under the stairway and then joined the rest of the team at the landing above.

Another flight up and they were on the same level as Medical. A wide glass window on their left showed they were in the right place and the team moved quickly, entering the room beyond. There were six aliens inside, and they all looked at the odd menagerie of uniformed aliens as they entered.

There was also a Juirean here, a green-maned Guard who seemed to react faster than the others. With their respirators and goggles now off, the faces of the Humans were fully exposed. The eyes of the Juirean grew wide and he dove toward a comm unit on the wall. Rutledge cut him down with a short blast of the MP7, the rounds literally cutting the alien in half.

The others in the room panicked, scrambling away in all directions. The Humans had no choice; they all opened up, the 4.6-caliber rounds easily ripping through the thin flesh and bones of the variety of aliens. Their blood and shattered flesh sprayed around the room, leaving a scene of utter death and devastation rivaling any to be found in a Freddie Kruger movie.

Tobias and Tindal sprinted across the room and through a doorway into the area where the quarantine cells were located. They looked through the small window into the first unit. It was empty.

They moved to the next one and looked inside.

There—sitting on a cot and staring at the window—was a smiling Captain Adam Cain, USN.

Tobias stepped back, and not bothering with trying to figure out how to unlock the cell, blasted the controls with his weapon. The metal shattered; Tobias reached into the hole he’d made and pulled, ripping the door open.

Adam remained seated as Tobias and Tindal entered the cell.

“It’s about time,” Adam said, his smile growing even wider.

“Better late than never, sir,” Tobias said, returning the smile. He unhooked another MP7 he carried on his left shoulder and tossed the weapon to Adam. “Care to give us a hand?”

“Love to. It’s been a couple of months since I killed any aliens. I think I’m having withdrawals.”

He rose from the cot and joined the other two SEALs at the door to the cell. Sherri and the others had moved up, and when she saw Adam, she pushed her way through the crowd and embraced him passionately. They shared a hard kiss and then stared into each other’s eyes for a tender moment. There were tears in Sherri’s eyes.

Tindal leaned over toward the Chief. “Asshole not only gets rescued—but he also gets the girl. I think we’re doing something wrong. No disrespect, Captain Cain, sir.”

The rest of the team then spent the next ten seconds patting Adam on the back and shaking his hand. After that, Tobias put a stop to the reunion.

“Enough of this mushy shit,” he said. “Now we have to disable the ship, and from the inside out.” He turned to Adam, “You ready to exact some revenge on these stinkin’ bastards, Captain Cain?”

“More than you can know, LT. The J’s are forward of here. Let’s start there.”

“Lead the way, Mister Cain.”

Chapter 32

The plan called for the team to disable the ship from the inside so it wouldn’t be able to pursue them during the getaway. Ideally, the damage would be so extensive that even communication links to the outside would be affected. There were still a large number of official entities, both on the surface and in orbit, who wouldn’t take too kindly to a Juirean ship being attacked in their jurisdiction.

One of the simplest and most direct means of attaining their objective was to kill every last alien onboard. If that wasn’t possible, then at least a high enough number to scare the shit out of all the survivors.

First, they would have to find the bridge and destroy the controls. The Class-3 also had an auxiliary control room located near the aft generator rooms. They would take that out on their way back to meet up with Kaylor. But first they had to deal with real live Juireans.

The Juirean compliment of a Class-3 battlecruiser was usually around twenty-five out of a crew of ninety. They would all be Guards, trained military professionals, and once the assault team was discovered, they would be the first to react.

The team moved out of Medical, past the horrific scene of death they had caused only moments before. As they entered the main corridor, their luck ran out.

Sirens sounded, and a voice came over the ship’s intercom system.

“Alert! Alert! The ship has been breached. All security forces converge on the Medical Facilities department. All crew to be armed immediately.”

The SEAL team moved up the corridor, Tobias and Adam in the lead, Tindal and Rutledge at their six, with Sherri and Riyad in the middle. At an intersection, a force of six Juireans, all armed with Xan-Fi flash rifles, met up with them. The SEALs opened fire before the Juireans could get off a shot. Three of the Guards were torn to shreds, while the remaining three opened up on the Humans. Juireans do not rely on computer-assist for aiming—just like the Humans—so their shots came fast. Fortunately, the initial bolts were fired in haste and missed badly.

Adam dove forward, sliding on the metal floor. He rolled to his left, bringing the weapon to bear on the three Juireans hiding around the corner. He opened up and the bullets ripped into the alien flesh as if it was made of cardboard. This is more like it, Adam thought, watching the Juireans be torn to shreds. It’s good to be back in the saddle!

The team moved past the intersection, weapons glued to their cheeks.

Just then a blaze of bolts came from behind. One of the bolts struck Riyad in the back. He fell forward his body alight with a sparking, electric blue glow. As the aura from his burned out diffusion shield faded, the rest of the team sent a deadly and deafening shower of metal in the direction of the attackers. They could hear the screams of pain as some were hit.

Riyad regained his feet and moved up next to Adam. “That’s my one mulligan,” he said.

Adam looked at the orange and green uniform Riyad wore. “Are you all wearing the diffusers under the uniforms?”

“All except you, so be careful. We didn’t come all this way just so you could get your ass shot off.”

“I’ll make sure I don’t let you down.” The two shared a smile, and then dropped to the floor as another barrage of bolts passed way too close for comfort over their heads. “Did you bring any grenades?”

“Of course,” Tindal yelled out. “Never leave home without them.”

“Well, how about tossing one down the corridor?” Adam ordered. “That last barrage nearly took my head off.”

For an answer, Adam heard the small, puck-sized grenade go sliding down the metal floor. In a second, the ship reverberated from the explosion and smoke billowed up from behind them.

“Move out!” Tobias ordered. “Tindal, take up a position at the next intersection and cover our six.”

“Roger that.”

The other members of the team moved up the corridor, encountering two other brief pockets of resistance from the aliens. No other Juireans were seen. Adam had been to the bridge of the Class-3 before, so he knelt down on one knee as its entrance came into view at the end of the corridor. “Let’s not take any chances. Blow it.”

Rutledge stepped forward and tossed a grenade at the door. The thunderous explosion ripped the doorway open even more, sending two Juireans in the bridge area to the floor, covered in blood. The Humans surged forward, laying down suppressing fire as they entered the room.

They were met with a force of twelve Juireans, crouching behind the consoles dotting the large room. The team dove for cover and began sending hot metal in the direction of the Juireans. The MP7 ammunition also did a number on the control consoles, shredding the boxes into pieces of sharp, flying shrapnel. The Juireans fell back, with some moving away toward another exit to the room.

Just then, an errant round struck the forward viewport, penetrating the thick glass. A section of the window blew outward, sucking the atmosphere in the room with it. Any loose pieces of paper, metal or plastic rushed into the emptiness of space; a Juirean flew out as well, as everyone else grabbed onto anything they could find to keep from following him.

Normally, the bridge pressure door would slam shut, but it had been blown to bits as the team entered. Now security doors farther down the outer corridor cycled shut.

A cascade of sealing foam filled the section of the bridge near the viewport. An unfortunate Juirean was caught up in the thick, yellowish goo, and as it hardened, his head and upper torso were crushed, blood, guts and gore squirting out of the hole where the Guard’s head had once been—like toothpaste from a tube.

The outward flow of atmosphere stopped and pressure was restored to the room. The SEALs were on the move again, sweeping through the bridge blasting any of the remaining aliens.

Then everything fell silent—except for the clanging of the security alarm.

Adam moved toward the far doorway. This corridor led to the captain’s quarters and to the second long hallway that ran down the length of the ship. He saw the door to the captain’s quarters slide shut—someone had just entered.

The team began to shoot up any remaining consoles on the bridge, being careful this time that none of their rounds came near what was left of the forward viewport.

Adam left them there to do their work and slipped in next to the door to the captain’s quarters. He reached up and activated the door control. The panel slid open, and as it did, three flash bolts flared out of the room, impacting the opposite wall of the corridor.

Adam covered his face to shield against the random static electricity coursing through the air. Then he jumped into the room, rolling to his left and sending out a spread of burning metal from the muzzle of his MP7. The Juireans inside the room—two of them—ducked for cover, but before they could regain their orientation, Adam was upon them. He pointed the barrel of his weapon at the first Juirean and depressed the trigger. The evil rounds tore a gaping hole in the alien’s chest; Adam spun around and leveled the compact weapon at the other Juirean.

It was Senior Guard Jydle Ga Liplun, his green mane now in disarray, with part of it standing on end, while another crop was plastered across his sweating forehead.

The Juirean went to raise his weapon; Adam shoved the hot barrel of his weapon under the chin of the Juirean. “Don’t do it, Jydle.”

The Juirean hesitated, and then let the Xan-Fi rifle fall to the floor. He leaned back against the side of his desk, looking up into the emotionless blue eyes of his former prisoner.

“Now what, Cain?” Jydle asked. He looked past Adam as other members of the team moved into the room, their weapons sweeping from side to side.

“I got this, Andy.”

Tobias stepped up next to him. “A friend of yours?”

“Let’s just say this guy has a real sadistic streak in him. You wouldn’t want to be a houseguest at one of his parties.”

Tobias placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Make it quick, Captain. We still have a lot of work to do.” He ordered the rest of the team out of the room.

Adam continued to stare at the green-haired Guard with undisguised venom. Jydle pursed his lips and then said to Adam, “I suppose there is no chance of taking me as your prisoner?”

“Not a chance, asshole,” Adam said. “But you know the funny thing about all this: you’ll never know how the war turns out.” Adam snorted. “However, after today, I believe you already have a pretty good idea.”

“Get it over—”

Adam sent a short, three-round burst into the head of the Juirean. The skull exploded in a spray of blood and flesh. The Human stared down at the now-headless alien, feeling no remorse whatsoever. Instead, all he could see before him was the vision of the charred skeletal remains of his wife Maria and daughter Cassie superimposed over the wash of blood and greenish flesh.

There would never be enough Juireans to kill, not enough to erase that horrific image from Adam’s memory. But with each one he did kill, he whispered softly, “That’s for you, Maria. That’s for all of us.”

* * *

Adam left the captain’s quarters and met up with the team, who were presently engaged in an intense firefight at a nearby intersection. He heard Lt. Tobias on his comm. “Tindal, meet us at the second corridor. ETA, thirty seconds. We’re just cleanin’ up over here.”

“Roger that. On my way. Resistance is dropping on my side.”

Adam knew that a ship this size carried a crew of about ninety. They had already easily killed a third of that number, and now they would begin the move back toward the auxiliary control room.

Sherri bumped into him. “Having fun yet?” she asked panting heavily, both from the exertion as well as from the thrill of battle. Her blue eyes were alight with a fire from inside, a look he had seen before, back on Melfora Lum when they’d blown the communication tower. Sherri got almost a sexual thrill out of combat. He considered her for a moment. Could she be his perfect match? Maybe—if they lived long enough.

He smiled at her. “This is what I live for, babe. Now, let’s go run up the score!”

They moved off with the rest of the team, firing at any alien they saw. The targets became fewer as they moved aft, either because they were killing them all, or the aliens had decided to hide rather than fight the Humans. By now it was a good chance all the Juireans were dead, leaving only the various alien recruits. These hapless souls had signed up for the pay and not because of any great hatred for the Humans or overt loyalty to the Juireans. Now that the assault team was returning from Juirean-Country, the recruits were now looking out for numero uno.

The Humans reached the auxiliary control room and found it empty. They shredded the control consoles with bursts from their MP7’s, so that even if technicians could repair the damage, it would take them weeks to do so. The Humans would be long gone by then.

Five minutes later, the team was back in the generator room, with Kaylor waving at them from his position on the second level. The Humans sprayed more bullets about the room, being careful not to puncture any of the generators or energy modules while they were still onboard. It wouldn’t pay to be irradiated just as they were leaving the Class-3.

The ship was disabled and out of the fight—and it would remain so for a very long time.

Mission Accomplished!

The team moved back to the shuttle through the main umbilical and Kaylor slipped into the pilot seat. He keyed a communication button. “Jym, come in. We’re on our way to you.”

“May the Gods be revered,” Jym’s voice screeched through the speakers. “Is Adam Cain with you?”

“I am, Jym. Thanks for asking.”

“It is the reason we came,” the tiny alien stated flatly.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you.”

“Have I upset you in some way?”

“Nah, just glad to hear your voice.”

“Docking in ten minutes, Jym,” Kaylor said, interrupting. “Open cargo bay doors.”

“Already done and waiting for you.”

Chapter 33

The recharge shuttle slipped into the cargo bay of the JU-224 with barely a meter to spare on the side. Since the vessel was of special use and design, once the team had offloaded, they disabled the ship’s communications, freed the original recharge crew and let them take it down to the planet. In half an hour the Exitor would be out of the system and heading for the Fringe.

Once safely away, the team met in the common room to hear Adam’s story of his capture and imprisonment. Sherri had to fight back the tears as she saw the scar on Adam’s left cheek, near the jawline. He had suffered the injury while in the jungles of Hyben, leading the Juireans away from her. As his story went, he was treated for the wounds to his leg, side and face and then allowed to heal up—before the Juirean Guard Jydle began torturing him, just for the fun of it.

The Juirean had read his dossier and had concluded that Adam had been responsible for the deaths of Overlord Oplim and Counselor Deslor nearly three years before. But on top of that, he also believed Adam had lured the Juirean fleet to the planet Earth, where they had suffered their greatest military defeat ever. In Jydle’s opinion, this insignificant little Human was responsible for more Juirean death and destruction than any time since the Klin Deception. That event had brought about the Unification Wars on Juir, and the deaths of millions of his fellow Juireans four thousand years before. Now Adam Cain had unleashed the greatest threat to Juirean existence since the founding of their civilization.

Yes, torturing the Human was cruel and uncivilized, even for a Juirean. Yet, according to Jydle, it would be his only chance to exact his own limited form of revenge on the Human before Adam was assigned his fate at the hands of the Council. Jydle wasn’t about to let an opportunity like this pass him by.

“It looks like I’m the one who got the last laugh, however,” Adam said, summing up his story with the execution of Jydle. “I had a pretty good idea that you would rescue me, or I’d find some other way to escape. And when I heard that the ship was stopping for a recharge, I knew it was now or never for the rescue part. Thank you,” he said sincerely, fighting back his own emotions. “You risked a lot to save my sorry ass.”

Sherri took his hand and squeezed it hard. “Hopefully our part in this war is coming to an end. Kaylor’s been monitoring the reports on the newscasts, and it looks like we’ve taken over the Fringe and the next two sectors already. There’ve been three major battles, and we’ve won them all. Once back in the Fringe, we should be safe.”

“Good,” said Adam, smiling at all those assembled in the room, including Kaylor and Jym. “I’m sure we could all use a very long vacation—”

Adam saw Jym suddenly lean forward from his position at the auxiliary control station in the common room. It wasn’t a full pilot’s station, but he still had access to all the ship’s monitoring systems.

“What is it, Jym?” Adam asked.

“I just picked up a large gravity wave at the edge of our scanning range. No, actually it is three of them.”

“What direction are they traveling?” asked Kaylor as he moved up behind his co-pilot.

“Parallel to us, same direction.” Jym turned his head to look up at Kaylor. “From the refinement, they look to be Klin signatures.”

Adam joined the aliens at the station. “What are they doing this far into the Expansion?”

Suddenly, alarms sounded throughout the ship, as the automatic evasion program took over. The people in the common room were thrown to the left from the inertia as the ship jerked to the right. Jym clung desperately to the control console and pulled himself back into the seat. “We have an incoming bolt from directly behind us. Impact – now!”

The ship whipsawed violently as a low-pitched groan rose up from the aft section of JU-224. Adam felt his stomach rise up in his throat as the gravity-wells dissolved and weightlessness overwhelmed his senses.

“All drive and gravity systems are offline!” Jym yelled. “We are powerless to evade or withstand any subsequent bolts.”

As the eight beings in the room grabbed onto anything they could to keep from floating away, they all waited for the final blow, for the bolt that would penetrate the hull and send them all into oblivion. But as the seconds turned into minutes, nothing happened. After three minutes, they began to crawl their way through the weightlessness toward the pilothouse, switching from handhold to handhold as quickly as possible.

Through the forward viewport, they could see three very large disk-shaped spacecraft, sitting off their forward bow, lit only by the glow from the distant Zinnol star and the conspicuous portholes ablaze on their silver hulls. They were about half a kilometer distant and making no further hostile moves.

Kaylor pulled himself down into the pilot’s seat and strapped in. He scanned his instruments. “The shot was apparently designed to cripple us—which it did quite effectively. We are at their mercy.”

“Can you contact them?” Tobias asked, now drifting above Kaylor. “Find out what they want?”

“I can try—” Kaylor was cut short when a light flashed on his console. “They’re contacting us!” He flicked the switch.

“This is Ship Master Ludl Vizon, of the Klin. Your vessel has been disabled and all occupants are ordered to transfer to the center Klin ship once your personal belongings have been secured. Use your ship’s shuttle for the transfer. You will have fifteen minutes to leave the ship, after which time it will be destroyed. Do not bring weapons of any kind with you. If you do, the perpetrators will be immediately executed. You have fifteen minutes from now to leave the ship.”

The transmission ended; everyone in the room looked at each other, with all eyes eventually focusing on Adam.

“If they wanted us dead, they would have blown us to vapor. I say we gather our things and get the hell off the ship.”

“Aye aye, sir,” said Lt. Tobias. “Just grab what you can and meet up at the cargo bay in ten minutes. It’s going to be harder to maneuver in zero-g, so don’t waste time with a lot of personal stuff, just the essentials.” He then made eye contact with Tindal and Rutledge. “And no weapons; I think they’re serious about that.”

Everyone nodded and then began swimming out of the pilothouse and toward their individual quarters. When Adam reached his, he found most of his belongings were still there from when he had been part of the JU-224 crew several months back. He snatched a pillow from mid-air, pulled off its slipcover and began cramming clothing and his toiletries into it. He didn’t have very many other personal items aboard the ship, leaving the few things he did have back on Viemon-2 in the Fringe.

He was the first one to reach the cargo bay, but by the time he had opened the shuttle door and floated into the pilothouse, everyone else was there—everyone except Jym. Kaylor keyed a comm button. “Jym, where are you?”

“Almost there,” came the reply, his voice having been picked up by the ship’s internal microphones.

“Do you want to pilot, or me?” Kaylor asked Adam.

“I’m already here. Everyone buckle in. I’m blowing the bay doors as soon as Jym gets here.”

On cue, Jym drifted into the room, towing with him two bags, both as large as he was and bugling through the sides. Everyone looked at each other and shook their heads.

Adam keyed the emergency egress control and the double cargo bay doors exploded outward, propelled by the rush of escaping atmosphere. Adam initiated the chemical engines and the shuttle shot out into space; almost immediately the tiny internal gravity-well engaged and the crew felt the welcoming and familiar sensation of muscle control return to their bodies.

The shuttle was only about three hundred meters away when the Klin ship on the right flared an electric-blue bolt of plasma at the JU-224. The bolt streaked out from the Klin ship and impacted Kaylor’s ship directly in the pilothouse section. The viewport burst, first inward from the bolt, and then outward with the sudden escape of air. Then a second bolt followed the first, penetrating deeply into the ship through the hole made by the first shot. Explosions flashed from inside the ship, through the portholes and through numerous hull breaches, yet the ship didn’t explode. It was now simply a useless shell of metal, drifting in the infinite vastness of space.

Adam steered the shuttle toward the center Klin ship as directed and swept underneath the large disk. A gaping, lighted opening greeted him, and he maneuvered the shuttle up into the interior of the starship. Once inside, he slid the shuttle over onto a smooth metal floor as the double hatch doors to the landing bay slid shut. By the time Adam cut the chemical drive and dissolved the internal gravity, the doors to the bay were secure and atmosphere was filling the large room.

None of the Humans or aliens had been aboard a Klin ship this large before, and they all craned to look through the viewport at the room outside. It was huge, with several smaller shuttles lining the outer wall of the circular room, with the access port they’d entered through located at the very center. Once atmosphere was restored, several large creatures entered the landing bay, each armed with a flash rifle. They were scaly-looking things, with heads disproportionally large for their bodies. A dozen of them lined up outside the shuttle’s side entrance and waited. No Klin were observed.

Adam looked around at the others in the pilothouse. “Well, let’s go see what they want. Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re offering to give us an express ticket back to the Fringe.”

They stepped out onto the surface of the landing bay, Adam in the lead, with Sherri at his side. The line of aliens stood in place—weapons leveled at them—before a tall, thin creature dressed all in silver appeared from the left side. The Klin stepped up to Adam with a look of mild amusement on his narrow face.

“Adam Cain,” he stated confidently. And then he looked around at the others, “As well as Riyad Tarazi and Sherri Valentine. This is an unexpected bonus. We were only expecting Mr. Cain to be the prize.”

“What’s this all about?” Adam asked. “I thought we’re supposed to be on the same side.”

The Klin grinned. “Oh, I think we all know the real truth regarding that matter, Mr. Cain. And even though our two races are publicly allies in the current war with the Juireans, you—and your companions in particular—have never fully subscribed to that belief, now have you?”

“What do you want? You’ve gone through a lot of trouble to get us here.”

“All in good time, Mr. Cain. But first let me say this….” The Klin looked around at the rest of the creatures in Adam’s entourage, “We are all quite impressed with your escape from the Juireans. A Class-3 battlecruiser is not an easy target to assault, especially with so few combatants. Your companions are quite remarkable and capable, Mr. Cain. We were ourselves preparing to liberate you from your Juirean captors, either alive or dead. And now your friends have saved us the trouble.”

“You still haven’t answered the question, asshole,” Tindal said from behind Adam. “What are you going to do with us?”

The Klin considered the fiery young petty officer for a moment and with the same bemused look on his face. “First of all, I’m taking all of you to a place very few Humans even know exists. Once there, my three prizes will meet with the Pleabaen—what you would consider the leader of the Klin.” And then he looked straight into Tindal’s eyes. “As for the rest of you, you are of no value to us. Your fates have already sealed.” The Klin turned to the guards. “Take them to their cells, and please put these three together,” the Klin said, indicating Adam, Sherri and Riyad, before abruptly turning away and leaving the landing bay.

Chapter 34

The cell the trio was placed in was a two bedroom suite aboard the large Klin ship. Since their feelings had been building for quite some time, Adam and Sherri claimed one of the bedrooms for themselves, dispelling any pretense about their current or future relationship. This left Riyad with a room of his own, which was infinitely to his liking. There was a small sitting area between the rooms, as well as a grooming station—but no kitchen.

After they surveyed their accommodations thoroughly, they realized it was pointless trying to escape. Even if they could commandeer the Klin ship, there were two others in the convoy to contend with. The fact once again surfaced that if the Klin wanted them dead, they would have done it already. Sometimes it was best just to wait and see what happens….

They didn’t know how long the trip would take to this mysterious destination of the Klin’s, so they settled into a somewhat boring routine. Food was provided on a very precise schedule, and they kept themselves well-groomed during their internment.

After a few days, Adam was allowed to see the others in his party and found that they, too, were also being treated well and held in similar quarters. Even Kaylor and Jym seemed to be enjoying their forced vacation.

The Klin captain—Ludl Vizon—came to see the three main Humans after the first few days of their captivity. He was a little more talkative at the time, appearing to be in a very good mood. He told them that the Pleabaen—a Klin by the name of Linuso Summlin—was very anxious to meet them, and the meeting would take place in three weeks’ time. Until then, the Humans should relax and not cause any trouble. All would be revealed to them by the Pleabaen.

A week into the trip, Adam was allowed to visit Tobias and the other two SEALs again in their quarters.

“Any more news about how much longer we’re going to be cooped up here, captain,” Petty Officer John Tindal asked as Adam entered the cabin. Adam knew the young sailor was more concerned about the not-so-thinly-veiled threat the Klin had leveled at him a week before. Although the journey was comfortable, Tindal knew that at its conclusion something very bad could happen to him and his teammates.

“I was told the trip would take a total of three weeks, so we’re about a third of the way there, John.” Adam tapped his right ear nonchalantly, indicating to the SEALs that the room may be bugged. Their eyes relayed understanding. “I recommend that we all just kick back and enjoy the ride for now.”

Lt. Tobias nodded. “I agree. We really don’t have anything to fear from the Klin. After all, they’re our allies against the Juireans.”

“That’s right, lieutenant,” Adam said. “I believe they just misunderstood my concerns back on Earth. I was confused and didn’t have all the facts at the time. I’m sure that once we get to wherever we’re going, all that will be worked out.”

Adam had no idea if the Klin were actually falling for any of his bullshit; Riyad and Sherri had also been participating in the ruse, praising the Klin every chance they got within the confines of their suite. As he left the SEALs room to return to his own, he was feeling that the deception was being carried out with very little effort yet could pay dividends at the end—if the Klin believed them, if even a little.

He was mildly distracted as he walked down the corridor, followed by two of the large-headed guards, on the way to his room—so much so that he nearly collided with another creature as it emerged from a side door.

Adam stopped abruptly and looked eye-to-eye at the creature. He was about his height, with thin black eyes and a build of muscular fitness. The features overall were very similar to Humans, but the skin was more creased, leathery and a dark grey in color. The guards didn’t move to separate the two, but instead seemed to recoil slightly at the sight of this new creature.

“Excuse me,” Adam said politely.

The creature stared at Adam with a look of utter contempt. Having first contact with an alien race, Adam knew that it wasn’t always wise—or accurate—to jump to conclusions regarding a species’ initial expressions and body language. Yet this creature’s feelings were almost impossible to misread.

“Sorry…yes,” the leather-skinned being replied. “I am sure it was just a mistake on your part. Let us hope it doesn’t happen again.” And then the creature turned and walked past the guards and down the hallway. Adam watched him leave, also noticing how the guards went out of their way to open a path for the alien. They appeared to have forgotten about their charge and continued to watch the dark creature as he moved away in the opposite direction.

“Hey guys,” Adam said, rousing the guard’s attention back to him. “Let’s go.”

Embarrassed, the guards followed the Human to his room.

Chapter 35

The time eventually came when the small convoy of Klin ships made planetfall at their ultimate destination. Each of the craft affected surface landings, extending their thick, round pedestals from underneath, which the bulk of the vessel now rested upon.

Adam and the rest of this team were hustled out of their compartments by the big-heads and paraded out into the bright sunlight of this new world. The air was thick and humid, and the daylight burned his eyes after weeks of the subdued artificial illumination aboard the starship. Gravity appeared to be about standard for the Expansion, or about three-quarters that of Earth’s, and from what he knew of the Klin, this might be even a little higher than what they were comfortable with. The fact that they would have chosen this planet as the residence for their leader was a little puzzling.

There were open-air transports waiting for them, and soon a convoy of six cars was moving across the vast plain of the spaceport and heading toward the skyline of a nearby city.

Once they passed through the spaceport gates, the convoy entered a complex maze of streets, wending their way among towering buildings fifty stories or more in height. There were hundreds of creatures on the sidewalks, yet sparse traffic. As they passed, Adam studied the natives. They were Primes of average height, in a variety of weights and sizes and dressed in a kaleidoscope of colorful, individually-tailored outfits; very similar to any large city back on Earth.

And yet he saw no Klin.

After about twenty minutes, the line of transports entered the grounds of a massive palatial estate, lined with tall wrought-iron fencing, soaring trees with green and purple leaves, and grounds of manicured lawn. To the left, Adam saw a vast, shimmering lake that spread out behind the estate, with verdant woods climbing the gentle hills rising on the other side of the water.

Adam’s jaw dropped slightly as he took in the scene. It was one of opulence—yet comfort—familiar to the Human to such a degree that it was unsettling. He looked at the others in his car. They were mesmerized—as was he—by the beauty of the estate and its grounds.

A long, paved driveway circled around to the front of the massive and ornate four-story brick building, placed strategically at the focal point of the landscaping. The guards got out of their cars and took up positions around the prisoners. Ludl Vizon exited the lead car and joined them near the carved, double entrance doors to the estate. He appeared to be in his customary jovial mood.

“This is where the Pleabaen lives and is the symbolic capital of the Klin race in the galaxy.”

Weeks ago, the Humans had decided not to antagonize the Klin, so Adam simply looked around and said, “Very impressive. The Klin and Humans have very similar tastes regarding class and elegance. I can see why we have so much in common.”

“Yes, we are quite proud of this structure and the surrounding complex. It reminds us of our home…of Klinmon. Now follow me. It is time to meet the Pleabaen.”

They entered the building and were just as awe-struck by the absolute immensity of the room before them. Besides being four stories tall, the floor of the room dropped down through a series of steps and landings for another two stories, forming a spherical chamber of incredible volume. Below them, a number of hallways spoked off from the much smaller ground-level floor. Adam there were a large number of Klin here, all moving about with deliberate and unhurried ease.

Ludl didn’t lead them down into the room, but rather to the right and up a wide stairway that wound its way up the side of the circular room. At the top was a-ten-meter-wide hallway leading farther into the depths of the building. Klin scurried about, all engaged in the various bureaucratic duties one would expect to find at the central headquarters for a race of beings.

At the end of the long hallway, Ludl pushed open a large, heavy door and they entered a smaller anteroom, lined with holographic pictures of what Adam recognized as scenes from the past on the planet Klinmon. They were similar to those that had been in the captain’s quarters of the Klin ship he had first been aboard. That was just over three years before, and the Juirean Overlord Oplim Ra Unis had explained their significance, just moments before he died in the nuclear explosion that consumed the ship.

As Adam looked at the pictures, his mind raced back through the events that had shaped his life since then, a time when he’d first discovered that a whole universe of living beings existed outside his own comfortable, myopic world. Now here he was, at the headquarters of the race that had started it all, who had begun the journey out from a single world, and who had provided the scientific imagination and brain-power that made it all possible. Even though the Klin were now his mortal enemy, their achievements were not to be diminished.

His reverie was interrupted when Ludl instructed the few guards with them to watch Lt. Tobias and the rest of the team.

“You and the others are to remain here,” he said addressing Tobias. “Misters Cain and Tarazi, along with Miss Valentine will follow me.”

They passed through another door and down a carpeted hallway to a room at the end. They entered a large office with an ornately-carved wooden desk set off to one side, with statues and wood paneling lining its walls. Although the room was impressive, Adam was most struck by the brilliant light cascading through a set of tall raked windows…and the shimmering blue beauty of the lake beyond.

But then he refocused his attention, because standing up from a long couch facing the lake…were two Humans.

They were both massive in size and build. One was shorter, with freckles, hypnotic blue eyes and ginger hair atop his head that was cut so short as to make him almost appear bald. The other man was black and towered over the ginger-haired man by a good six inches. Adam had spent a lot of time around top-notched examples of male physical perfection during his time with the SEALs, and this man would have easily ranked in his top ten. He could have been the starting linebacker for any pro NFL team, or a finalist in the Mr. World Bodybuilding Competition; the man was that massive and cut.

Both men approached Adam, the pale, freckled monster-of-a-man smiling warmly.

“Adam fucking Cain, at last,” the man said through a thick baroque English accent. And before he knew it, the man’s massive fist impacted the left side of Adam’s face.

The blow was tremendous, sending the smaller man crashing to the floor, momentarily stunned. As he lay on the floor, his left eye was swelling shut and his lips felt numb.

Riyad and Sherri rushed to his aide, but the hulking black man stepped between them and Adam, blocking their way.

Just then the ginger-haired man smiled even wider and extended a helping hand to Adam. “Sorry, mate,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve been waiting such a long time to meet you.”

Regaining his senses, Adam wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “You have a funny way of saying hello—mate.” he replied. Reluctantly, Adam extended his right hand.

The large Brit grasped it with his left and pulled, easily lifting Adam from the carpeted floor…before promptly placing another massive blow to the same side of Adam’s head. He tumbled to the floor once again, this time rolling on his side and moaning from the pain.

“Stop it!” Sherri yelled, looking around the barrier that was the giant black man. “You’re killing him!”

“I’m afraid not, Ms. Valentine,” said the blue-eyed man.

“Enough!” Ludl yelled. “Leave him alone, Mr. McCarthy.”

McCarthy nodded and stepped away. Adam got to his feet with the help of Sherri and Riyad, each holding him up by an arm.

“I’m Nigel McCarthy, British SAS,” the man said crisply. “And this is Mr. Carter Thomas, formally of your U.S. Army Rangers. We have been tracking your progress for a very long time now, Mr. Cain. And…” McCarthy looked directly at Sherri, “…if it had been up to me you’d all be dead by now.”

“Well, it is not up to you, Mr. McCarthy,” another voice said from off to Adam’s right. He painfully craned his neck, and through his right eye—the only one still open—he saw another Klin, this one older than Ludl and wearing a long silver cape over his broader-than-normal shoulders.

McCarthy grunted something and moved away, joining Carter Thomas by the large bay window. The Pleabaen approached Adam, scrutinizing the damage done to his face by the large Brit. The left side was swollen and almost beyond recognition, rapidly turning an unnatural red and yellow. His left eye was completely shut, with blood dribbling from his mouth and nose.

“Oh my, Mr. McCarthy, you sure have made a mess out of your fellow Human. You see, Mr. Cain, we Klin would never have caused such pain to one of our own. That is what makes us superior to you and your kind.”

“On that, I will agree,” Adam said feebly, the entire left side of his head one throbbing mass of pain.

“Please sit him down before the desk,” said the leader of the Klin. Sherri and Riyad obliged much to Adam’s relief. He was still dizzy and disoriented.

The Klin moved behind the desk and took a seat, while Sherri and Riyad sat in the available chairs to either side of Adam. Ludl remained standing near the edge of the couch where McCarthy and Thomas now sat.

“I am Linuso Summlin, the Pleabaen of the Klin people. I am their supreme leader at this time. I would like to welcome you to the planet Marishal—even though Mr. McCarthy here has already taken much of the majesty out of the moment. My welcome would have been much more cordial.”

“What’s this all about?” Sherri asked, her voice trembling with anger. “And who is this asshole McCarthy anyway?”

The Pleabaen smiled. “Misters McCarthy and Thomas are the supreme representatives of your race here on Marishal, helping to coordinate all the activities of those whom you call the Converts and the 2G’s.” He turned to address the two Humans seated on the couch. “And I will now ask that you both leave us and give me some private time with our new guests. I will meet up with you again later. Please leave now.”

Through his one good eye, Adam saw the reluctance in both McCarthy and Thomas—especially in McCarthy—to grant the request. There was a power struggle going on in the room, and the Klin was going to win this round. As the two hulking Humans got up to leave, Adam painfully flashed a bloody grin at McCarthy. The ginger-haired Brit simply returned a glower of his own before leaving the room.

* * *

The Pleabaen now turned his undivided attention to the three Humans seated on the other side of his desk. “You have arrived at a very opportune time—at an almost magical moment. You are here at the culmination of a journey that has taken the Klin nearly four thousand years to travel and you and your kind are playing a major role in this upcoming event.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Adam. “We’re your muscle against the Juireans. But it’s been the Klin all along who have pulled the strings in this war.” In his battered condition, Adam didn’t feel like playing nice with the Klin any longer. “I hope you feel good about the deaths of billions of innocent people, people who were not part of your goddamn grudge match against the Juireans.”

Linuso was taken aback slightly by the ferocity of Adam’s comments. “It is nothing personal, Mr. Cain, I assure you. Currently throughout the galaxy, there are only about two-hundred thousand surviving Klin. Times have been tough since the days of the Juirean betrayal. We will always need surrogates, up until the time when we can come once more into the open and claim a suitable world as our own. At that time, our kind will once again flourish in the light of day and we will have no need of beings like you.”

Adam suddenly turned dizzy again and fell against Sherri. “Isn’t there something you can do for him?” she asked, dabbing away some of the blood from Adam’s mouth with the sleeve of her tunic.

“Of course there is, Miss Valentine, my apologies. I simply wasn’t expecting this outcome from the meeting between you and Mr. McCarthy. We know everything there is to know about Human physiology, including some truly amazing medical advances which we may someday reveal to you. Let me call in some assistance.” Linuso keyed a comm button on his desk and a moment later a pair of Klin entered the room from a side door, followed shortly by a third.

“Ah, here is Senior Fellow Limmore. He has served as the primary intermediary between us and your Mr. McCarthy for some time now,” said Linuso. “He is an expert on what you call Human Nature.” The Pleabaen turned to greet the other Klin. “You can see what your charge has done to our distinguished guest, Limmore. It was quite barbaric.”

Limmore took a seat to the side of the desk. “I would expect nothing less. It is, after all, what makes the Humans so valuable to us.”

The other two Klin came over to Adam and began their examination. After a moment, one of them pulled a jar from a small bag and dabbed some of its contents onto Adam’s swollen face. Almost immediately the swelling began to subside. The other Klin then took a small metal device of some kind and placed it against Adam’s right temple. Adam’s eyes suddenly grew wide.

“That’s amazing,” he said. “My headache’s gone, as is most of the pain. That stuff’s incredible!” He blinked several times and could now see much better through his left eye.

One of the medical Klin address the Pleabaen, “He will be well in a few minutes; there does not appear to be any brain damage.”

“Very good!” Linuso exclaimed, appearing truly excited with the prognosis. He looked over at Limmore.

“Almost ready,” the younger Klin said to Linuso, cryptically.

“Good. Now I will have Ludl escort the three of you to a room where you may rest and receive nourishment if need be. The events I spoke of before are coming to fruition. I will soon have you join me in the command center for the grand finale—oh I just love the way you Humans speak, with all your embellishments and colloquialisms. It shouldn’t be more than an hour now. Ludl, please show them to their quarters.”

“What about the others?” Adam said as he stood up, more confident of his footing than before. “We’re a team.”

Linuso was silent for a moment before answering. “Very well, take them with you, including your two muleship-drivers. I am sure you will all enjoy the show.”

* * *

Once in the anteroom, Adam was reunited with the other five from his group, looking tired yet anxious. Tobias took a closer look at Adam. “What the hell did they do to you in there?”

“It wasn’t them. It was another Human, an SAS commando named McCarthy. He’s working with the Klin.”

“Follow me,” Ludl said from near the door.

The three SEALs turned toward him; Adam could sense them tensing for a strike.

“Stand down,” he ordered. “It looks like we’ve all been invited to a special viewing of the latest interstellar blockbuster. Until then, they want us to wait in a room for about an hour—and that means all of us.” He made eye contact with Kaylor and winked his good right eye. He felt almost giddy from whatever the Klin had given him. Considering how shitty he had felt only minutes before, he was grateful for any relief.

And if he ever saw that son-of-a-bitch McCarthy again….he’d be ready.

* * *

They were taken to a room only a few doors down the carpeted hallway from Linuso’s office. It was large and comfortable, with two beds, a couch and two chairs. Adam entered the room’s grooming station and cleaned up before returning to the main room and falling onto one of the beds. Sherri nuzzled in next to him.

Riyad did the courtesy of filling in the others as to what had happened inside the Pleabaen’s office, while Adam rested his head in Sherri’s lap. The drugs were good, but damn, this was getting ridiculous.

“So what do you think this grand finale is,” Tobias asked Riyad.

“It’s obviously some major battle between us and the Juireans. The Klin appear to have an absolute hard-on for the event.”

“Do you think they’re going to interfere, to manipulate the outcome somehow?” Sherri asked.

“Undoubtedly, but to what end I don’t know. I can’t imagine them helping the Juireans to defeat us. Besides, they still need our manpower to continue the war.”

“It sounds like they expect this thing to end quickly…anytime now,” said Master Chief Rutledge.

“That doesn’t make sense,” offered Lt. Tobias. “The war’s only been going on for a few months. There’s still a lot of galaxy to cover.”

“Give it a rest, guys,” Adam said from the bed, his eyes closed, soothed by Sherri’s stroking of his hair. “All will be revealed soon…the head honcho told us so. Right now, we’ll just drive ourselves crazy trying to second guess these crazy, back-stabbing bastards.”

Everyone in the room was quite—for about a minute—before John Tindal broke the silence. “I say they’ll try to help the Juireans, just so the war will go on longer—”

“But I said it’s like they expect the war to end now,” Rutledge countered.

Jesus Christ! Adam thought. And the debate resumed unabated.

Chapter 36

The Klin war room—located six stories below ground level in the sprawling estate—was a masterpiece of technology and efficiency. It was almost forty-meters square, with every imaginable monitoring device, computer terminal and graphic display that the considerable scientific talents of the Klin could muster. And on top of it all, their communication relays were faster than anything else in the galaxy, allowing for near-instantaneous links from halfway across the galaxy. This was technology the Klin had never revealed to anyone, not in the time of the Alliance, or now in a time of war. Only the Klin could boast of such technology—and the Klin never boasted.

The fact that Pleabaen Linuso Summlin could receive real-time updates from anywhere in the galaxy allowed him to be one of the first Klin to receive the communique from the Fringe….

“This cannot be accurate,” he said to High Commander Senior Fellow Olin Puennel.

“Three separate monitoring stations have confirmed it. There is a new Human fleet moving into the Sector.”

Linuso looked once more at the datapad in his hand. “This speaks of five-hundred thirty-five new ships. What does Senior Fellow Lumonsee say about this from Earth?”

“We have not been able to make link with the Senior Fellow since receiving the report. We have only been attempting to contact him for about ten minutes. We are continuing to link.”

Limmore was standing next to the Pleabaen, looking up at the graphic of the Falor-Kapel system and at the forces moving into position. “That new fleet is too far out to assist. The battle will be over weeks before it can be in the vicinity of Falor-Kapel.”

“Yes, I know,” said Linuso. “What troubles me is that we have had no reports of a fleet leaving Earth and heading for the Expansion. Surely Lumonsee would have known of it.”

“That would be expected. And yet here is this new fleet, and no report on its construction or deployment.”

Linuso nodded his head. “Could the Humans have built this fleet unbeknownst to the Senior Fellow and all our spies and surrogates? If so, then maybe we have underestimated the Humans—or Lumonsee.”

“We have thousands of 2G’s and hundreds of surrogates who have infiltrated the entire structure of Human society. I cannot imagine them being able to accomplish this without our knowledge.”

“And that is why I am the Pleabaen, Limmore, because I can imagine it.”

He turned to the High Commander. “You must make contact with Lumonsee. I have to know what is happening on Earth.”

Linuso walked away, with Limmore following closely behind. They entered a large viewing room, lined with chairs like those in a movie theater. On one side of the room was a large plate-glass window looking out on the command center. On the opposite wall was a large screen, currently displaying a graphic of the Falor-Kapel system and the relative position of the warring parties. The differently-colored contacts were growing ever closer to each other. Linuso turned to Limmore. “Please have our guests escorted here now. It is about to begin.”

“What of McCarthy and Thomas?”

“Not them. When the truth comes out, I want them under close guard.”

“Understood, Pleabaen.”

Chapter 37

It was simply called The List and had taken over eight months to gather. Now the President of the United States—Daniel Danny Ryan—was ready to make use of it.

The document sat on his desk—seventy-five pages wrapped in a dark blue vellum-bristol cover and sporting no title, simply a gold-embossed Seal of the United States of America. And the desk it rested upon was not the original Resolute Desk, the one that so many presidents before him had used. Rather it was a new desk, a plain and simple object, moved here several months before from his underground bunker in the mountains of West Virginia. It also resided in a new White House, one hastily constructed on the grounds of the old one but looking nothing like the original.

All that had once been the glory and majesty of Washington D.C. had been destroyed on that bright afternoon day in early November, when the Juireans unleashed a catastrophic rain of fire from high in orbit above the planet. Nearly every major city around the world had been hit, with the more severe damage reserved for the most-densely populated areas. New York, Tokyo, London, Mexico City, Hong Kong, Sao Paulo and so many more had suffered the most. Sprawling cities like Los Angeles and Paris had not suffered as badly. They had taken their hits of course, yet the conflagration that followed had been more easily contained. In other locations, it had been the fires that caused the most death and destruction.

Ryan put his hand on the thin booklet and tried to reflect on just what The List contained. It was a resolution—a reckoning of sorts—the culmination of a quest for revenge that had started the moment the first fireballs had dropped from the sky.

It had been the Juireans who had initiated the attack and the devastation that followed, yet it was the Klin who had set all the events in motion. The Klin had convinced the Juireans that the Humans of Earth were a threat to them, so severe in nature that only a preempted strike could protect them. So the Juireans came…and they killed. They killed over a billion Human beings, most in the course of the three-hour bombardment of the planet. So many millions more were lost in the fires, starvation and disease that followed.

And that was what made the sins of the Klin so diabolical and unforgivable.

In the aftermath of the devastation, the Klin had arrived as mankind’s Saviors, bringing with them food, shelter and energy, offering an express path out of the darkness and onto the road to revenge. They helped the people of the Earth recover in record time from an event so tragic. But what made Danny Ryan so livid was the fact that these same beings who had come as our friends were the very ones you had caused the tragedy in the first place. At least the Juireans were honest about their intentions. The Klin—on the other hand—turned out to be despicable backstabbing bastards of the first-degree.

Adam Cain had been right all along.

Now the Human race was about to make things right. And it was the Klin—in their rush to make Humanity strong again, strong enough to confront the Juireans head-on—who had sowed the seeds of their own demise.

As it turned out, the superior technology of the Klin was not so superior after all, just more advanced. The science behind everything the Klin made available to the Humans—to help in their recovery and in their war against the Juireans—had been easily understood once revealed to the scientists and engineers. Across the planet there had been countless ‘ah-ha’ moments as the best minds Humanity had to offer began to dissect the science behind the wonders of the aliens. Cold fusion technology, gravity-drives, advanced metallurgy and energy-based weapons systems soon became readily understood—and duplicated—in countless secret facilities around the globe.

The transformation had been so remarkable and so swift, that already the Human race had been able to field a star fleet of their own, and right under the noses of the unsuspecting Klin.

Whether the aliens had expected the Humans to steal the science and technology of their weapon systems, starships and energy production, Ryan would never know. If not, then the aliens truly did not understand mankind….

All he had to do now was accept the fact that humanity had—in the course of eight short months—gained just about all the knowledge it was going to get from the Klin and their surrogates. If that were the case, then The List could be acted upon, and all the months of dancing around the truth could come to an end.

Danny Ryan, President of United States of America—default leader of the survivors of the most-evil plot ever to be unleashed upon the people of the Earth—was about to authorize The Purge.

* * *

Admiral William Keller sat on a couch in a crude reconstruction of the Oval Office, in a building that had been hastily erected on the grounds of the now bulldozed under White House in Washington D.C. Throughout the area there was construction, rebuilding that which had been destroyed. However, the losses from the national museums and historical artifacts that defined America had been lost forever. The Capitol Mall was no more; gone, too, was the Capitol Building, the Library of Congress and the Smithsonian. Boxy temporary structures now dotted the landscape, where the great monuments of America’s heritage had once stood, now sad reminders of all that had been lost on 11-6.

Throughout the inner circles of the governments of the world—among those who knew the truth—a seething anger dwelled. All this death and destruction, all the loss of life and of history, had been caused for no valid reason whatsoever. The Klin had simply used humanity with no regard for life or property. In this way, they were so much worse than the creatures who had dropped the bombs.

Every time Admiral Keller came to the new White House he had to pass through the ruins of this once great city. His office was in the Pentagon, just on the other side of the Potomac, yet a world away. Surprisingly, the massive building in Arlington, Virginia, had been spared in the attack, but not so the great monuments across the river. And he knew that Washington was just one of a hundred such cities struggling to recover after the attack.

As he sat on the couch, watching the range of emotions cross the President’s face, Keller was anxious to get started. He carried a special Smith and Wesson 45-caliber with him that he hoped he could use personally on as many of the traitorous Converts as he could get his hands on. The despicable low-life’s were about to get what they deserved.

The document sitting on the President’s desk contained the names and locations of over seventeen-thousand individuals from around the world. The names were broken down into two categories—the Saviors, or 2G’s, and the Converts.

Originally, the list of 2G’s had contained over twenty-five thousand names just on its own. These were the Klin accomplices who had been born and raised off-planet, and who had come to be known as the Saviors. Yet over the months, it had been discovered that the 2G’s were more innocents than villains in the events surrounding the attack upon the Earth. Having been raised by the Klin from birth, most of the 2G’s truly believed the Juireans had perpetrated the attack upon the Earth unprovoked, and that they had been sent to the planet to genuinely help their fellow Humans. Many soon discovered that the environment in which they had been raised was nothing like the reality of being native-born. Whether it was from an instinctive drive within us all to be social creatures, the 2G’s longed to be part of the greater Human family, and quickly rejected their Klin masters, especially when the truth was revealed to them.

Through these new additions to the Human race, people like Ryan and Keller were able to compile a comprehensive list of individuals who made up the second category of names in the document: the Converts.

Keller would never understand what would make a native-born Human turn against his own race. He understood that throughout history there had always been traitors and spies, yet these had been individuals working against people on behalf of other people. The Converts were working for an alien race and against their own flesh and blood and DNA. It made absolutely no sense to Keller, and only showed how base and deprived humanity could be.

“Well, Admiral?” the President said, snapping Keller out of his own thoughts and back to the present. “Are we sure about this?”

“What do you mean, Mr. President?” Keller said, truly surprised by the question.

“I don’t mean about what we have to do, but rather are we ready to stand alone, come what may?”

Keller understood the question. The debate had raged on for months about whether or not humanity could afford to alienate—no pun intended—the alien Klin. It would leave the Earth standing alone against the Juireans, plus any reprisals the Klin may choose to send their way. It had taken a Herculean effort to convince not only Ryan, but also most of the other world leaders, that humanity was indeed ready. Keller was fully convinced that mankind could stand alone against any threat thrown against her.

“Mr. President, this has to be done, and the sooner the better. For the past few months, the number of revelations coming from the Klin technology has dwindled to just about zero. There doesn’t seem to be too many more surprises left. Sure, we’re not as advanced as they are—how could we be in such a short time—yet we have the foundation we need to defend ourselves. And even with all their science and technology, the Klin have proven to be very backwards in their understanding of war, and even of Human nature. You would think that after all the hundreds of years of studying us they would know us better. And the sooner we act, the sooner the world can learn the truth. It will be cathartic in a way.”

“I know you’re right, Bill; we’ve been over this so many times in the past. It’s just that once the order goes out, there’ll be no turning back.”

“I understand, Mr. President. But you are doing the right thing. War makes for strange bedfellows, but we do not have to sleep with the killer of our children any longer than is necessary.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows at the last comment. “That kind of sums it all up, doesn’t it? I wish you’d told me that a couple of months ago, I might have capitulated sooner.” His attempt at a smile failed miserably.

“Okay, Admiral, you have the order. Let’s clean house.”

Chapter 38

The six Humans and two aliens were surprised by the luxurious and familiar feel to the movie theater they were escorted into. Each row consisted of four seats, so they were able to take up the first two rows in front of the large viewing screen. There were four other seats in the room, larger and more opulent, set off to the side—obviously reserved for Linuso and his senior staff. On the screen was a graphic representation of a star system, detailing two large gas giants as well as various other planetary bodies.

Soon everyone was seated, including the Klin.

“All of you are to bear witness to one of the most significant events to take place in galactic history,” Linuso began, with obvious satisfaction and excitement in his voice. “In a few minutes a battle will begin which will forever shift the balance of power in the galaxy, after which the rightful will be returned to their proper place in history.”

“And of course you mean the Klin, don’t you?” Riyad said, sarcasm barely hidden in his tone.

“Of course, Mr. Tarazi. It was the Klin who established all the systems and scientific advancements which have led to the unification of so many disparate worlds into what the Juireans so disgustingly call their Expansion. We are simply about to right a wrong.”

“But why did you have to use us to make it happen?” Sherri asked. “Weren’t there other races who would have worked just as well against the Juireans? Why us?”

“That is a legitimate concern, Miss Valentine,” replied the supreme Klin leader. “And yes, there are other races who could have sufficed. In fact, you will soon learn that the Humans are not the only ones assisting us in our master plan. But the truth be known, your race was never expected to be the final arbiters of power in the galaxy.”

“The gray, leathery creature on the ship!” Adam blurted out.

The Pleabaen glared at Ludl, now seated three chairs down from him. “So you have seen a Kracori?”

“A what…a who?” Riyad asked.

“You will learn soon enough,” said the Pleabaen dismissively. “I must now set the stage for the show, as you would call it.” He nodded to Limmore, who pulled a datapad from under his cape and began tapping the screen.

The image on the large screen now split in half, with one side still showing the graphic of the star system, and the other a crowded pilothouse aboard a starship.

“This is the scene aboard the flagship of the Klin fleet—yes, we have one of our own—now sitting off the system of Falor-Kapel, which is shown on the left,” Linuso narrated. “This is a live image, so we will be watching events as they unfold in real-time.”

The pilothouse was filled with a number of aliens, with only a few Klin to be seen. However, Adam did see four, maybe five, of the leathery creatures from the hallway—Kracori, Linuso had called them. The Kracori appeared to be manning most of the important stations in the pilothouse.

A thin, pale-skinned Klin moved into view. “Greetings, Pleabaen,” the Klin said joyfully. “This is a great moment for our people.”

“Indeed it is. How are the preparations advancing?” Linuso said from a room five thousand light-years away.

“Any moment now. The Humans are pursuing the Juireans into the Kapelean Corridor. Damper fields are in position to be activated by the Juireans as soon as the fleet is inside the perimeter.”

“This is taking place now?” Tobias asked, interrupting the Klin. “And what’s a damper field?”

Linuso turned toward the lieutenant and paused momentarily. “Forgive the interruption, Fleet Master. I have here with me Adam Cain and his team of Human and alien fighters.”

“Yes, I heard that Ludl had secured Mr. Cain. It was fortunate that we received the report from Hyben that made it possible. And now you have him there to witness the event. Excellent.”

“And he and his companions may need more explanation as the events unfold.” Linuso said, now addressing Tobias. “Yes, these are real-time events, like I said. You are watching Fleet Master Hoden Felmore as he commands the Klin fleet. And a damper field is a static electricity shield that restricts a gravity-drive from forming a deep-well. The Juireans have stationed a series of damper satellites across the entrance to the field of battle so as to prevent any of your combatants from escaping. Low intensity wells are possible, allowing for maneuvering during the battle. Yet if a deep-well interacts with a damper field, it will dissolve instantly. The ship will continue through the field, and can reactivate once outside, but in the meantime it becomes a target for any pursuing craft. The system isn’t perfect, but it appears as though the Juireans want this to be a battle to the end.”

Like a cage match, Adam thought, as he watched the hundreds of tiny dots converge on the screen to the left. He had viewed many a screen like this during his time in the SEALs, and he knew that thousands of Human beings were about to die.

“Whose side are you on, Linuso? Adam asked. “You sound as though you want the Juireans to win.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Cain, we do not care who wins.” He turned back to the split screen and the view of the Klin pilothouse. “Are your forces in position, Ship Master?”

“Yes, we have been for days.”

“I think I get it now,” Adam said. “You just want the Humans and Juireans to screw each other over so badly that you and your tiny fleet can sweep in and pick off any survivors.”

“Crude, Mr. Cain. And I would not call a three hundred ship fleet tiny. It will surely suffice to overcome any of the remaining forces, be they Juirean or Human.”

Adam felt his heart sink. The Klin plan was simple—and probably destined to succeed. He surveyed the graphic. The green colored dots, more-than-likely representing the larger Juirean fleet, were massing at the edge of an area between the two large planets. This would be the Kapelean Corridor, as the Klin called it. The Human fleet, by contrast, was much smaller and colored in red. In fact, it appeared to be only about half as large as the Juirean fleet.

What happened to all our ships? Adam thought. We started out with so many more. Have the battles gone so badly for us, with hundreds of more casualties?

Suddenly, the screen displaying the pilothouse itself split in two, with the lower half now displaying a Klin face that Adam vaguely recognized. And then it dawned on him—it was that bastard Klin from the war room back on Earth. He couldn’t remember his name, but the face he could.

Linuso recognized the face immediately. “Ah, Senior Fellow Lumonsee, I am glad to see we have finally made contact with you. I have a special guest here with me, Mr. Adam Cain. I believe the two of you have met.”

“Pleabaen, you may want to have this conversation in private,” said the pale Klin, his voice low and serious.

“Nonsense. This is a glorious time for the Klin. Speak, Senior Fellow, what news have you from Earth? I am sure our guests will find it interesting.”

Still the Klin hesitated, his eyes narrow, his lips tight. Finally, he spoke, “Linuso, the Humans have staged a purge.”

The Pleabaen became very serious. “What do you mean?”

“They have begun arresting—or killing—all the surrogates they can find. Also, it appears as though most of our 2G’s have joined the native Humans in this effort, helping to identify the remaining surrogates.”

“Silence!” Linuso commanded, rising from his chair. “Off screen!” The image disappeared, to be replaced by a solid gray screen before expanding once again to show the interior of the Klin flagship.

Linuso and two of his aides headed for the door to the theater room. “Oops,” Adam said, sliding down a little farther in the comfortable padded seat. The show was just now getting interesting.

Chapter 39

Once in the command center, Linuso had the image of Lumonsee transferred to a nearby monitor. “Explain!” he yelled.

“The attacks have been coordinated across the planet, plus all the ships in orbit. Humans are now aboard my ship and are hunting me. I do not have much time.”

“So we are going to lose control of the planet.” It was a statement, not a question.

“That is true.”

“But what of our assistance—can the Humans survive without us?”

“From the few reports I have received from the surviving surrogates, the natives have apparently been building many of their own facilities, unknown to us until now. They have apparently mastered our technology…and they are prolific builders.”

“And what of this new fleet entering the Fringe?” Linuso asked. From the look on Lumonsee’s face, the Pleabaen could tell he knew nothing of it.

“What new fleet? None have left from here. However, the Humans have commandeered all of our ships, both in orbit as well as those under construction. I estimate they are now in control of a fleet over twelve-hundred ships in strength.”

“Plus another five hundred thirty-five that have just recently entered the Fringe Sector.”

“I am not aware of this.”

“You are apparently not aware of a lot of things happening under your jurisdiction, Lumonsee.”

“My failings, Pleabaen, will soon be paid for with my life; the Humans are very near. I only hope that this subterfuge is not a precursor to something more widespread.”

“What do you mean?”

“Simple. The Humans are proving to be very deceptive. If what you say is true—about a new fleet arriving in the Fringe—then they have managed to pull off a major coup in spite of all our efforts. It appears as though the Pleabaens—both now and in the past—may have underestimated the abilities of the Humans.”

“That has yet to be supported. So far the only failings I have seen have come from your jurisdiction.”

“And what of Adam Cain and his activities? That single Human has disrupted our timelines for three years already, so much so that our manipulation of the war had to be advanced by twenty years.”

“This line of conversation is getting us nowhere, Lumonsee,” the Pleabaen scolded. “I will deal with events as they unfold; you, however, should prepare yourself for your imminent demise.”

“I will do what is necessary. I have confidence that the Klin will survive; we always have. Just beware, Pleabaen. The Humans are not as we supposed.”

Lumonsee looked off to his right, as a disturbance was heard from that direction. He turned back to the screen. “Farewell, Linuso—” He cut the link.

Linuso remained staring at the blank screen for several seconds. He was desperately trying to correlate all the information he had just received and to determine how it related to the current events taking place thousands of light years-away. The new Human fleet—he was positive now that it did exist—was too far out to affect the outcome of the battle about to take place off Falor-Kapel. The Klin, with their Kracori allies, could still accomplish the ultimate goal of this phase of the master plan. Whatever was happening on Earth was of no consequence at this moment, or into the foreseeable future. Yes, the Humans would have to be dealt with, but that could wait. That situation was months away from having to be resolved.

Right now, the Pleabaen had a galaxy to conquer.

Chapter 40

Linuso was gone from the theater room for fifteen minutes, and by the time he returned stern-faced and tight-lipped, the first engagements in the battle of Falor-Kapel had already taken place. The Pleabaen slipped into his seat and placed his chin on his hand, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair.

“So the people of Earth don’t want to play your alien games anymore,” Adam said, poking the bear.

When the Pleabaen didn’t reply, Adam pressed a little more. “So how does this affect your plans for galactic domination?”

Linuso lifted his head and glared at Adam. “You believe we Klin have been doing all of this for power and for domination? You are wrong! We do this for justice. The galaxy will be a better place with the Klin in…” he hesitated ever so briefly… “power.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Silence,” Linuso commanded, “else I reconsider my decision to allow you and your companions to observe the battle!”

Adam glanced over at Sherri and smiled. She reciprocated and squeezed his arm a little tighter. If they were going to go out, they preferred to go out with a bang.

The screen before them remained split, and on the left side they could see the cloud of green and red contacts begin to intertwine. To Adam, it reminded him of Christmas ornaments, even though he knew people were dying before his eyes.

The green dots dominated, forming a sphere around the red contacts, who—even though outnumber two-to-one—appeared to be holding the integrity of their lines. Yet despite their tenacity, the red dots were being compressed into an ever-smaller ball within the sphere. Adam could see the writing on the wall. The battle couldn’t last much longer.

“Fleet Master,” Linuso said, startling the others in the theater room who had been intently watching the left screen. “You may begin your attack. The Humans are of no consequence; your priority will be to prevent any Juirean ships from escaping.”

“Understood, Pleabaen,” Hoden acknowledged. On the screen he turned and nodded to one of the Kracori seated at a console facing the back of his chair.

Just then, a large set of undesignated contacts appeared at the bottom of the left screen in the theater room, approaching the battle from a direction along the main entry point to the Kapelean Corridor.

“Your forces are out of position, Hoden,” Linuso stated sharply.

The Fleet Master turned his back to the screen again and had a quick and muffled conversation with an agitated Kracori behind him. When he turned to the screen again, his eyes were wide with shock.

“They are not our ships, Pleabaen.”

“More Juireans?”

Hoden turned back to the Kracori.

“Give me answers, Fleet Master!” Linuso lifted out of his seat and took a step toward the screen. At the same time, the senior military advisor seated next to him hurried out of the theater room and into the main command center.

Adam looked over at Riyad, who was seated to his left, and raised an eyebrow. “It appears as though our Klin friends do not like surprises,” Riyad said through a bright, toothy smile.

“Yes, the plot thickens,” Adam said, sitting up a little straighter in his chair and glancing around at the others seated around him. He caught Lt. Tobias’s eye, and sent him a wink.

“Classic,” lieutenant said.

Fleet Master Hoden leaned in toward the screen. “The gravity signatures match our own, Linuso, but they are not our ships. And we count over five hundred of them closing on the battle front.”

Chapter 41

For two billion years, each of the gas giants had played host to a pair of massive asteroid rings, and for most of their orbital journeys, these tiny bodies of rock and metal remained at relative peace and stability with their sisters. Yet there was a place where the two rings merged, to intertwine into a complex and violent dance of unpredictable collisions and billiard ball-like ricochets. This place was called the meat-grinder.

It was here that the two gas giants of Falor and Kapel fought for dominance within their system, not allowing any smaller planetoids to gain footholds and become planets in their own right, not against the competing tidal pulls of the giants. It was through this invisible tug-o-war that the somewhat uniformed rings would enter, then scatter, only to be pulled back in line by the colossal gravities of the giants once emerging from the meat-grinder. And this had been going on for billions of years.

Near the confluence of these rings, there formed a narrow corridor of relative quiet between the giants and the colliding asteroids, where gravity and matter formed a tenuous alliance. Unfortunately, there was only one way in or out of the Kapelean Corridor. Arriving along the elliptical plane was suicide; the only approach came from the top, with the bottom of the corridor effectively blocked by the thickness of the competing asteroid belts.

To travelers familiar with the Falor-Kapel system, the Corridor was well-known. To others entering this stellar Venus-flytrap for the first time, it could spell disaster.

The Juireans knew the system well, and as such, found the confusing dynamic of dead-ends in space to be particularly ironic when planning their trap for the unsuspecting Humans. Escaping from the rear of the Corridor was nearly impossible. And now with the damper field strung across the entrance, the Juireans had effectively placed themselves at the bottom of a jar and then closed the lid, trapping themselves inside with a swarm of wild and angry Humans.

For the Humans, the trap was simply too inviting to ignore. Here was a small force of Juireans—the remnants of their much larger fleet—now backed into a corner with nowhere to run. With nearly all of the recent battles ending with the Juireans engaging deep-gravity wells and departing, the Humans would surely find the lure of a fight to the death fitting justice for the attack upon their homeworld. Yes, the Humans would bite. They would enter the Corridor; their bloodlust would allow for nothing less.

Yet unknown to the Humans, there were over three hundred additional Juirean ships already in the jar, invisible, in dark status. Once the invaders were in the jar—and with the lid snapped shut—the Humans would have no way to escape. It would be a glorious and momentous victory for the Juireans and reestablish their reputation as the greatest warriors in the galaxy.

The Council knew that the Juirean myth of invincibility had suffered greatly over the past several months. The strategy of hit-and-retreat was making the once-vaunted Juirean military the laughing stock of the galaxy. An attempt to lock down the media coverage concerning the string of Juirean defeats had failed miserably. Recently, however, the Council had begun to use the media to spread the rumor of even greater Juirean losses, hoping that the news would filter its way back to the rapidly advancing Humans. The more the invaders believed the Juireans to be weak and on the verge of defeat, the more head-long would be their flight into the trap.

Council Elder Hydon Ra Elys was feeling conflicted with the strategy. He was the proudest of the proud Juireans and hated to see the reputation of his race besmirched, if even for a greater good. Even though the plan was sound, Hydon still made a resolution: after this conflict was over he would show the Expansion just how powerful the Juireans were—and still are. Even now, the factories were running around the clock churning out the machines and weapons of war. Going forward, he would not have them slow. Instead, he would rebuild the Juirean military might and then clamp down on any uprising and squelch any discontent among the Members. Within the Expansion of the future, there would be no doubt who was in charge of the galaxy.

The threat from the Humans had opened Hydon’s eyes to the complacency his kind had been guilty of over the millennia. In reality, the galaxy was still a dangerous place, and one never knew from where the next threat would emerge. From here and evermore, the Juireans would be ready to face any foe. They would not be caught unprepared again.

Chapter 42

Captain Lee Schwartz had already fallen for the old ‘run ‘em through the asteroid field’ ploy once before, and as a result, he wasn’t about to fall for it a second time. Of course, this did limit his options as to how he would deploy his numerically-superior shadow fleet into the coming battle.

Thus far, there had been no confirmation that the Juireans had reinforced their rapidly dwindling fleet, yet the strategy was too obvious to ignore. And now they had backed themselves into a corner. Lee—along with all the top brass in the fleet—couldn’t believe that the vastly more-experienced Juireans would let this happen by accident. No, this was deliberate, and meant that it was here where the aliens would spring their trap.

On the charts it was called Falor-Kapel; for Lee, it was a chance to get back in the action.

Of course, it had been drilled into him time and again by his uncle that Captain Lee Schwartz was in command of the fleet, and not just one of its jet-jockeys. It was his job to stand back and observe the entire battlefield and to deploy his forces as needed. Lee agreed that would be hard for him to be in over-all command if his ass was on fire, in the middle of a dogfight with an alien spacecraft.

Yet Lee had not asked for this assignment. It had been foisted upon him primarily as the result of nepotism, as a way to insure the absolute secrecy required while assembling the Human shadow fleet. Lee had done the deal, and now his fleet consisted of five-hundred eighty-five ships. Most of these ships were perfectly clean vessels that had been reported as destroyed in battle, and yet suffered no damage at all. About a third of his fleet consisted of ships that had been damaged but were now repaired and battle-ready. It was a sizeable force, nearly double that of the supposed main Human fleet of two-hundred ninety-two ships.

Although Lee hated the boredom and lack of action associated with his new status as Fleet Commander, he nonetheless loved the strategy. Soon he could deploy his forces in battle—and he would love to see the look on the face of the Juirean commander when he did. It would be priceless.

* * *

Lee maintained a direct link to the tactical screens aboard the main fleet flagship, the one commanded by his uncle, Admiral Nate Allen. Even though his forces were too far out for the contacts to appear on his screens, tapping into his uncle’s monitors gave him a running commentary on what the other Human fleet was encountering.

As it turned out, Admiral Allen’s greatly depleted fleet had entered the Falor-Kapel star system in hot pursuit of the fleeing Juireans. The alien fleet had been whittled down from over eight hundred ships to now around two-hundred-fifty. Although Allen’s force outnumbered them only slightly—at two-hundred ninety-five—the Humans had proven to be more than simply a one-to-one match for the Juireans, even in light of the deception the Humans were carrying out. The Juireans would know they were doomed to defeat when they entered the dead-end region of the system called the Kapelean Corridor. At least that’s what they wanted the Humans to believe.

Allen and his Human fleet had graciously obliged and followed the Juireans into the Corridor. And then—to nobody’s surprise—nearly three hundred additional Juirean battleships suddenly appeared on the Human tac screens, emerging out of dark status with the activation of their shallow gravity-drives.

The Human forces bunched together near the center of what was now a cloud of Juirean ships surrounding them. The units along the outer Human perimeter were the first to receive fire; they raised their shields and sent answering salvos of their own electric-blue energy toward the enemy. Ships from both sides vanished from the screens. The battle was now joined.

* * *

Captain Lee Schwartz and his shadow fleet were located at the edge of the Falor-Kapel system, about a quarter of a light-year away. At deep-well speeds he could be at the battle scene in half an hour, and now that the Juireans had revealed themselves and committed to the battle, Lee no longer saw the need for secrecy. He gave the command, and his massive fleet tore up the space around them with hundreds of deep-gravity wells and sped off to engage the enemy in the Kapelean Corridor.

The orientation of the asteroid belts, as well as the huge gas giants, forced all the combatants to operate within the same narrow confines. This had been the Juirean’s goal all along. It also restricted Lee’s access to the battlefield. He would have to enter from above the plane, just as all the other forces had, not allowing him to out flank the enemy. Once his force joined the fray, the Juireans would more-than-likely retreat from their enveloping positions and regroup toward the back of the Corridor. This would work just as well. Then Lee and Admiral Allen could press against the Juireans as a unified force. It was going to be a bloodbath.

Lee had not bothered to transfer his flag to one of the larger attack vessels he had at his disposal, but rather chose to stay aboard his twenty-five-man Klin Fleet Vessel—A Series, or KFV-A. He had spent the past seven months with this crew, and the familiarity of having them at his side served to calm his nerves. Yes, Captain Lee Schwartz, USN, was nervous, but not from the anticipation of battle. Instead, he was nervous about command of the fleet, hoping beyond hope that he didn’t screw things up.

As the gas giants grew in this viewport, Lee moved his ship to the apex of the attacking phalanx. His aim was to get in at least a few good licks before having to retreat to a safer position in order to coordinate his forces. This maneuver would undoubtedly bring about the ire of his uncle, but it was a small price to pay for a few more chances at the enemy.

Lee sat in the pilot’s seat of the KFV-A, while the rest of his crew either manned the generators, the weapon systems or the monitoring screens on the bridge. Tim Carlson, his 2G technical advisor, sat at a station to Lee’s right. Tim was intimately familiar with all the systems aboard the ship and would be invaluable in coordinating any damage control efforts, if need be. Lee snorted softly to himself. If he needed damage control, then he would be royally screwed with his uncle. That would mean his ship had been hit, and that was something a command vessel should never allow to happen. Too many others were relying on the decisions coming from the top.

Yet Lee was a renegade. He figured just a few short minutes of battle, and then he would head off to safer ground and his command responsibilities.

Chapter 43

Overlord Kackil Fe Nulon watched as the orange indicated lights of his Juirean fleet enveloped the forces of the much smaller Human fleet. The feeling of satisfaction and relief were easily displayed on his calm countenance and large, bright eyes. The strategy had worked, and now not only the Juirean people, but the galaxy as a whole, would know the redemption of Kackil’s name. He was not the one who had been beaten into submission by the Human invaders, but rather he was their executioner.

Senior Guard Hoan Ga Chold stood next to the Overlord’s chair on the bridge of the Class-5 battleship UN-374. For several minutes the bridge had been relatively quiet as the techs and junior Guards went about their duties with modest efficiency. The battle was progressing very smoothly; there was nothing much for the senior commanders to do now but watch and wait.

Unfortunately for Kackil and Hoan, their peace was about to be shattered.

A tech pressed back from his stationed and turned abruptly toward his supervisor on his right. The supervisor, a Guard-third, leaned over the screen of his technician with a look of wide-eyed panic. He stood and faced Hoan.

“My Lord, there are multiple new contacts approaching from outside the Corridor,” the young Juirean announced.

Hoan and Kackil jerked their heads in the direction of the Guard. “On screen!” Hoan yelled.

Immediately the forward tactical screen zoomed out to a larger view of the battlefield. The enveloping screen around the Humans within the Corridor could be seen, but now there was a stream of new, undesignated contacts coming out of the top left side of the screen. There were hundreds of them.

“Analysis!” Overlord Kackil yelled as he stood from his chair, staring intently at the screen in front of him.

Moments later a voice rose up from somewhere behind the two senior Juireans. Neither turned to face the speaker, but rather continued to stare at the large screen. “Signature analysis matches that of the Human forces. Initial count is over four hundred contacts and rising as more come in range.”

Within moments the last of the cluster of contacts had formed on the monitor, with the leading edge nearing the top of the Corridor. “New count: five hundred eighty-five individual contacts, nearing the perimeter at this time.”

Five hundred eighty-five new Human ships! Kackil felt the blood drain from his head and his vision narrow. He staggered back against his chair and fought to keep his balance. To his right he heard Hoan barking orders. “Move a counter force to the damper field. Prepare for multiple contacts emerging. Fire when ready.”

“Yes, my Lord,” someone yelled from behind.

Chapter 44

The effect of his force showing up had indeed changed the Juirean strategy. The enveloping screen of Juirean ships surrounding the main Human fleet had begun to break off and move to either side of Admiral Allen’s cluster of forces. Lee was just about there; in another minute he would be within the Corridor—

Lee heard a loud descending whine reverberate throughout the ship, as power levels dropped to near zero. He twisted around to face Tim Carlson. “What the hell just happen?” he yelled at the frenetic 2G.

“The well has dissolved, and most of our reserve energy has dissipated. We’ve entered some kind of disruption field!”

“Can you get the drive system back up?”

“Not now…wait, the field around us is weakening. Let me run some numbers.”

Lee looked down at his positional data screen and saw that the ship’s forward momentum was still considerable—and leading them straight for a line of Juirean battlecruisers. The contact signatures of the Juireans flared suddenly and Lee knew they’d just unleashed a barrage of energy bolts toward him and the front lines of his fleet.

“It’s a damper field,” Tim called out to the room. “It’s a high-energy field that disrupts any deep-gravity wells that interact with it. It looks like the Juireans placed a series of generators across the entrance to the Corridor as some sort of shield or barrier.”

Lee could see the tracks of the energy bolts as they drew ever-closer. “Can you get us going again?”

“Just maneuvering wells, nothing deeper.”

“Then do it, dammit! We have incoming!”

Lee felt control return to his hands, and he pulled the ship over to the right in a tight barrel-roll, just as the first bolts struck his recharging diffusion shields. The maneuver worked, as the bolts struck obliquely, limiting their effect.

And yet on his screen, Lee saw several of his lead ships were not so lucky. Eight of them disappeared from his screen as their transponders were destroyed, along with the actual ships themselves.

“Get word to the fleet. Use maneuvering wells only,” Lee shouted to Lt. Steven Sexton, his comm officer.

“Captain!” Tim Carlson yelled out, “we’re through the field and deep-wells are now available, yet ineffective at this range.”

“Understood.” Lee knew that deep-gravity wells were only used for extremely fast transits—like arriving at or leaving a battle scene in a hurry. Once in the fight, however, shallow-wells were used primarily, along with chemical drives for even more close-in dogfights.

“Sexton, relay to the fleet that they will be entering a damping field, but that the effects are only temporary. Have the forward units clear out the Juirean ships nearest the field. We need to give our units time to recover after emerging from the field.”

“Yes, sir!”

Lee pulled his ship to the left this time, leading a squad of five vessels toward the Juirean lines. The enemy laid down another series of bolts, but Lee and the other ships were able to weave their way through the ballistic balls of energy without suffering any direct hits. He brought up the targeting laser onto the nearest enemy combatant. It was a huge Class-Five—five hundred meters long, with multiple deck levels which grew shorter the higher they reached toward the bridge. Lee fired, sending eight simultaneously-released bolts toward the behemoth.

His ship skirted the gravity field of the Class-Five even before the bolts arrived. He spun farther to the left and pulled away from the Juirean vessel. Just then, five of his eight bolts struck the screens of the Class-Five; the great ship glowed blue for several moments as the diffusion shields fought to absorb the energy. The shields held—but only momentarily. Secondary fire from the other ships in the squadron impacted the already weakened screens around the Juirean, overloading the dampers and causing the shields to drop.

Lee flipped his ship over and lined back up on the battlecruiser. He released another set of bolts—just as six others were sent from the Class-5 directly into Lee’s path.

He had very little time to react, as the bolts had been fired to anticipate the movement of Lee’s ship rather than directly at him, like leading a receiver in football. The bolts were going to hit—he couldn’t avoid it.

The first two energy balls hit the starboard side of the disk that made up Lee’s KFV. Even though it made no sense for a disk to have sides, the pilot dome at the center of the disk was oriented in a specific direction. This did allow for the designation of starboard and port, forward and aft and top and bottom of the disk. And now, the starboard edge of Lee’s ship had just been blown away.

Sealing foam trailed out of the gaping hole, trying its best to close the wound. It wasn’t working. Instead, internal hatchways were sealing automatically, isolating the damage to specific areas. Lee’s heart sank knowing that any of his crew in the damaged areas had died instantly or were destined to once sealed off from the rest of the ship.

The only consolation he would receive was when the massive Juirean battleship exploded on his screen. It was a small and infinitely inadequate consolation.

Lee’s fleet swept through the damper field, now able to recover quickly and without consequence, as the Juirean forces near the entrance to the Corridor had either been destroyed or retreated toward the rear. His uncle’s forces began to press against the Juireans; Lee’s ships flowed down and around the cluster of Human ships that made up the center bulge of their forces and began to attack the Juireans at their flanks.

Some of the Juireans separated from their clusters and attempted to run the asteroid belts. Many disappeared off his screen in brief flashes of energy. Still others tried to slip around the edges of Lee’s ships, heading for the top of the Corridor and the damping field. Some made it as far as the barrier. Once these ships passed through—and emerged on the other side as defenseless drifting shells of metal waiting for their power to be restored—Lee’s ships outside the field blew them all to atoms.

It seemed as though the Juirean’s own cleverness had come back to bite them in the ass.

* * *

Kackil stood round-eyed watching the devastation on the screen before him. The Humans had quickly eliminated all of the Juirean blocking forces at the damper field and now hundreds of enemy ships were entering the Corridor unopposed. The central Human fleet had begun to press his forces further to the bottom of the Corridor, and already the Overlord could see his lines breaking apart in panic.

It was over.

Something snapped in Kackil’s head. He reached over and grabbed the back of Hoan’s cloak and threw the Fleet Commander into a nearby console. “It is lost!” the Overlord yelled at the stunned bridge crew. “You have all failed me!”

Hoan regained his balance and stood to face the deranged Overlord. “My Lord…calm yourself immediately!” Hoan yelled, while waving with his hand for others around him to come to his assistance. “You must provide the fleet with guidance. You must not lose control of your mental faculties.”

“Guidance! You want guidance?” Kackil screamed even louder. Several Guards moved up behind the ranting Overlord. “I will give you guidance. The war is lost! Do you realize that, Hoan?”

“No my Lord…only the battle.”

“You stupid fool. This battle was the war!” Kackil rushed toward Hoan once again but was grabbed from behind by the other Guards. He jerked his arms in a desperate attempt to escape, but the hold was too strong.

“Please escort the Overlord to his quarters and stand guard upon him,” Hoan commanded. “The Overlord needs time to rest before returning his manner.”

As the Guards hustled the Overlord off the bridge, Hoan turned once more to the tac screen. His forces were now disappearing from the screen at an exponential rate, as the bright cluster of Human contacts now merged into a cloud of insurmountable size.

The Overlord may return to his quarters, but he will not have time to recover from his psychotic break, Hoan thought. At least not before Hoan’s own ship would disappear from existence.

Chapter 45

How could this be? the Pleabaen thought. The new Human fleet is still in the Fringe. There is no possible way it could have closed the distance between the Fringe and Falor-Kapel in only an hour or two.

He moved to the door of the theater room. “Get me a direct link with our forces in the Fringe!”

Instantly, the right side of the screen once again split in two. On the smaller screen, a Klin appeared, startled that the Pleabaen would be linking to him without warning.

“Where is this new Human fleet!” Linuso screamed at the screen.

The mouth of this new Klin dropped open slightly, and then he looked down, calling up data on a second screen. He looked back at Linuso. “They are mid-way through the Void; I have two of our ships shadowing them at this very moment. May I inquire as to…”

“Cut the link,” the Pleabaen commanded. He returned to stand before the screen showing the interior of the Klin flagship, which was now revealing a frenzied scene of chaos.

Hoden’s face swept back into view. “They are definitely Human, and they are now smashing through the Juirean lines with relative ease.”

“I can see that, Fleet Master,” Linuso said, anger in his voice. “My question is where did they come from?”

Hoden hesitated answering for a moment as a Kracori was speaking in his ear. He turned back to the screen. “The Kracori believe the estimates of their losses leading up to this engagement may have been deliberately exaggerated to give the illusion of a weakened force. They estimate that the Humans will survive this battle with a force numbering close to five hundred ships, maybe more. What should I do?”

Adam saw Linuso bite his bottom lip, his eyes now staring intently at the floor in front of the large screen. He was quiet for almost a full minute before raising his head back to the screen.

“Disengage, Fleet Master. Our force of three hundred ships cannot match the Humans on this battlefield. We cannot afford to sacrifice our forces for a cause we will not win. Layoff the system and await further orders.”

The Fleet Master’s mouth dropped open slightly, and Adam could see all the others within the field of the pilothouse lens suddenly stop what they were doing and stare at Hoden.

He nodded at Linuso. “I will obey. What are we to do now?”

“I do not know. This new situation will require a rethinking. You may cut the link, Fleet Master.”

After the screen went blank, Linuso slowly turned to face the small audience seated in the room. “Do not think this has changed any of your fortunes,” he said, staring directly at Adam. “If anything, it has only hastened your demise. It appears as though you Humans are of no value to us whatsoever, not anymore. Now besides the Juireans, you have made full enemies of the Klin, and you, Mr. Cain, will not live to regret it.”

He moved to the door of the theater room, just as a dozen aliens armed with flash rifles entered the command center. “Take them all away to detention. I will send further instructions momentarily.”

* * *

Detention, this time, was not the plush suite Adam and his team had been previously sequestered within, but rather a thick-walled traditional jail setup located in another building on the estate grounds. They were placed in the same cell, as a single, solid metal door slammed shut. There were no windows in the room, and only six cots, a wash basin and a toilet set into one wall.

The mood of the prisoners was decidedly depressed; to Adam it looked like this could be the end of the line. The only consolation was that the Humans had pulled a swift one on the Juireans, and in the process royally screwed up the plans of the Klin. That was a double bonus. As a soldier, Adam always accepted the concept of sacrifice for the greater good. He and his companions had fought the good fight. They had confounded the enemy and even managed to take out quite a few of them along the way.

Adam sat down on one of the cots next to Kaylor. The blue-skinned alien didn’t seem to be sharing in Adam’s quiet resignation.

“We are to be executed…and soon,” the Belsonian said, stating verbally what was on the minds of the other prisoners. “And for what good?”

“Rejoice in the knowledge that the Klin have had their plans all covered in shit, Kaylor,” Adam said through a wry smirk. “That’s what’s going to get the rest of us through this.”

“Uh-rah!” John Tindal said.

“Uh-rah!” said all the rest of the Humans.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kaylor asked, anger growing in his voice. “You have always had a plan. I have never seen you give up.”

“In battle Kaylor, not all warriors survive. However, just knowing that your side is winning can bring you a lot of comfort.”

“Your side is the Human side. We—Jym and I—are not Human. We do not have a winning side in this conflict.”

“You have a point there, my friend—”

Just then the door unlatched noisily and flew open, and several more Humans were shoved into the cell—including Nigel McCarthy and Carter Thomas.

Adam sprung to his feet and instantly took up a defensive stance—legs spread, left hand forward, right hand back in a fist.

McCarthy instantly recognized Adam and held up his hands, palms open, facing Adam. “No need, Mr. Cain. We are all in the same boat now.”

“I don’t give a damn!” Adam yelled, taking a step forward.

Carter Thomas stepped between them. “Chill out, man,” the large black man said. “This is not the time or the place. We have to work together now.”

“What’s the use? The Klin aren’t going to keep a lot of troublemakers like us around for very long. I’d just as soon spend what time I have left kicking the shit out of this asshole.”

Tobias and Riyad flanked Adam and lightly placed their hands on his shoulders. The last thing the two of them wanted was a full-scale melee to erupt in the cell between Adam’s men and McCarthy’s.

The Englishman stepped around his hulking mediator and up to Adam. “Carter’s right. We have to work together, as a unit – if we’re to get out of here alive.”

Adam was stunned by McCarthy’s brazen statement. “You’re crazy. Why do you think we have a chance to get out of here?”

McCarthy leaned in closer to Adam; Riyad and Tobias leaned in, too. “It’s because I’ve never trusted these bloody silver-skinned bastards in the first place,” said the big Brit in his sharp, sing-song accent. “You see, I’ve made contingency plans, like any good Special Forces operative would.” He looked Adam hard in the eyes, only inches from his face. “You with me, mate…or not?”

Adam hesitated for a moment, trying to determine the truth in McCarthy’s words. Finally he leaned in even closer and grunted, “Uh-rah, you son-of-a bitch. Let’s do this!”

* * *

McCarthy walked over to the wall near the door to the cell. “I’ve had free reign of this place for almost seven years, and I always wondered why the Klin would have a jail cell constructed on the estate,” he said turning his back on everyone in the room. “The Klin never commit any crime against each other, so I figured it had to be for us…just in case we caused them any trouble.”

He ran his fingers along the concrete block of the wall until he felt something, and then he pushed. One of the blocks spun outward. He reached inside what was a small cavity in the block and pulled out a long tube, about the length of a pencil with tiny notches placed within it. He held it up for all in the cell to see. “I give you…a key.”

Adam rushed forward, flanked by Tobias and Rutledge. “That’s great, McCarthy,” Adam said. “But what do we do once we get outside?”

“I have that covered, too.” The big Brit nodded to Carter Thomas and the other five men who had been placed in the cell with him. They moved quickly to the cots and flipped them over. Pulling the long side supports apart, they revealed metal tubes with something hidden inside each one. Thomas lifted up one of the tubes and let its contents slide out into his hand. It was a sword, about a meter long. Adam could tell it was one of the fancy biometric blades which utilized nanotechnology for constant sharpening at the molecular level, just like the ones he and Sherri had used on Hyben. These blades never went dull and provided an almost laser-like cut through just about any material.

“Why not flash rifles or something like that?” Sherri asked.

“These are stealthier, missy,” McCarthy answered; Sherri bristled at being called missy.

“This doesn’t answer the question about what do we do when we get out of here,” Chief Rutledge said. “We’re up to our assholes in hostiles and no way off this rock.”

“Have faith, mate. Like I said, I’ve got it covered. I’ve seen the Klin operate in the past, with other races they’ve used and discarded. Even though they always said they needed me and my men, I never felt they gave us the respect we were due. I figured it was just a matter of time before they’d throw us away, too, just like the others. Once we’re out of here, there’s a carpark behind the building where we can get transports out of here. Just stick with me and my men, and we’ll be out of here in a jiffy.”

Besides the eight members in Adam’s team—including Kaylor and Jym—McCarthy had Thomas plus five other extremely fit-looking men with him, all looking to be ex-Special Forces as well. All of McCarthy’s men were now armed with the blades, plus three extras which he passed to Adam, Tobias and Rutledge. Tindal, Riyad and Sherri armed themselves each with a length of pipe from the cots.

McCarthy and Thomas took up positions on each side of the door, and then the Brit inserted the key into a round hole in the door and turned it.

Thomas flung the door open while McCarthy bolted into the room outside. Two guards were there, natives of the planet Marishal. Before either could react, McCarthy had slashed down on one of them with the sword, severing the alien’s right arm. The cut was so quick and clean that the stunned creature had time to look down at his fallen limb on the floor and then over at his shoulder before collapsing to the ground. Thomas had swung his blade low at the other guard, slicing through both his legs. The creature tumbled forward, and before he could reach the ground, the hulking black man had brought the blade back down from behind, severing the creature’s head from its body. Neither guard had made a sound before they died.

The prisoners spilled out into the area outside the cell. The jailhouse was a small building, separated from the rest of the more elaborate structures that made up the Klin estate. It was basically two rooms; the room they now found themselves in and the cell itself. Even though the jail had been built as a contingency by the Klin, they obviously had not been expecting to use it much.

McCarthy and Adam moved to the exit and cracked open the door, just enough to look outside. They were a hundred meters from the main building, with the jailhouse sitting far off in a secluded corner of the grounds. There were a few trees placed aesthetically between them and the main building, and Adam could now see a large number of alien cars parked behind the building between the structure and the wide lake.

“We need to get to the carpark without drawing attention to ourselves,” McCarthy said. “Go out in twos and threes and walk casually toward the park. Nothing will draw more attention than fifteen people all sprinting across the lawn.”

“Roger that,” Adam said. He turned to his people and they paired off, making sure that a Human was assigned to walk with Kaylor and Jym each—just in case they panicked halfway to the parking lot.

McCarthy turned to Thomas. “Get them all to the shuttle. We’ll meet you there as soon as we’re done.” Thomas nodded, and then slipped out the door, followed by the others.

“What are you going to do?” Adam asked, suspiciously.

“It’s what the two of us are going to do, Mr. Cain.” McCarthy pointed a freckled finger at the main building. “See that antenna array on the roof? That’s the main comm link between the Klin command and the rest of the galaxy. I’m sure you’ve been pretty impressed with what they can do as far as communications are concerned. They call it Continuous Wormhole technology, and it’s through that damn thing up there that all the magic happens.” He grinned broadly at Adam. “We’re going to take it out.”

“With what…these swords?” Adam protested. “You’re crazy.”

“Have faith, mate. Like I said, I’ve planned ahead.”

The massive ginger-haired man stepped out of the jailhouse and began to casually stroll toward the main building; Adam moved up beside him. The other prisoners were now about halfway to the parking lot, and even though they weren’t running, it was still an odd scene, as small clusters of Humans nonchalantly strolling across the green lawn of the estate, yet all headed in the same direction.

There were several aliens outside of the main building, some tending to the grounds, others coming and going from the huge parking lot. Fifty transports or more were parked there. Occasionally, a few of the aliens would look over at the slowly approaching Humans and lock their gazes on them for a moment, but none pursued it beyond idle curiosity.

Tobias and Thomas were the first to reach the parking lot. Since most of the transports were designed to carry four passengers at the most, they would need either the largest vehicle they could find, or a convoy of four of the smaller cars to get all fifteen of them away. Thomas checked the door of a large truck sitting near the edge of the lot. It was unlocked—another consequence of the Klin’s trust amongst themselves. He jumped into the driver’s seat while Tobias moved to the back and raised the rear door panel. As the others arrived, they climbed in the back.

Sherri looked around as she reached the rear of the truck and didn’t see Adam. Riyad noticed, too, and they began a survey of the grounds.

Adam was nearly at the main building by now and noticed Sherri hesitate at the rear of the truck. They made eye contact. Sherri shook her head and raised her arms out to her side in a gesture of “What are you doing?”

Adam moved his right hand back and forth and then waved for her to go ahead. Still she hesitated, until Riyad grabbed her by the arm and literally threw her into the back of the truck.

* * *

When McCarthy and Adam reached the side of the huge brick building, the SAS operative moved swiftly to a stone bench sitting near the structure, facing the lake and nestled in a cluster of small trees and bushes with brightly blossoming flowers. Using his considerable strength, McCarthy lifted the stone bench off its base and set it down on the grass. Inside the base Adam saw four canvass satchels.

The ginger-haired man pulled two of the bags out and handed them to Adam. “Do you know what cyclotrimethylene trinitramine is?”

“Yeah, it’s C4 explosive.” said the Navy SEAL.

“Well, we’re going to climb to the roof of the building and place these charges around the base of the antenna.”

“That’s pretty convenient, that you’d have these explosives just sitting here.” Adam said.

“I’ve been planning for this contingency for a long time. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to use these, but we can’t have the Klin sending out word to stop us as we’re leaving the planet, now can we? Knocking out their communications will give us a jump start. It’s basic stuff, Cain.”

Just then, a loud whooping sound rose up from seemingly everywhere around the estate. The two Special Forces operatives crouched down lower in the bushes and looked toward the prison building. There was a small car parked outside of it now, with several aliens—including a few Klin—scrambling about. Adam looked over at the parking lot and noticed that the truck carrying the team was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s go!” McCarthy ordered as he sprinted for the side of the building. Adam was only a breath behind.

The building was very ornate, with all kinds of decorative quoins and plant trellises adorning its surface. The two Humans scrambled up the walls, made easier in the three-quarters gravity and their Earth-toned muscles. As they reached the top of the four-story building, they threw themselves over the top ledge and ducked behind it for cover. They could hear shouting and the whining of electric vehicles rising up from the ground below. Adam was sure the Klin were wondering what had happened to thirteen Humans and two aliens in the span of only fifteen minutes. Their search would naturally move to the parking lot.

The communications antenna took up about a quarter of the vast roof area of the main estate, and Adam could see now how it had been hidden from the front view of the building by a false wall about fifteen meters tall. The antenna itself was very compact and was a series of three cylindrical tubes surrounding a central spire and connected to each other with side supports. The array reached about twenty meters into the air, with the top third of the antenna painted green to blend in with the backdrop of the forested hills on the other side of the lake. It sat on an eight-sided platform that rested on rollers, allowing the structure to rotate. McCarthy ran for the antenna. “Place the charges equal distance around the base.”

Adam moved to the other side of the antenna array and opened one of the satchels. He withdrew a charge containing three wrapped bricks, each about the size of a sleeve of crackers, and after inserting the radio-controlled detonators into the soft material, slipped it into the area between the base and rollers. “This is all well and good, McCarthy, but have you figured out how we’re going to get down from here, what with the whole Klin army running around below us?”

McCarthy rose up after placing a charge of his own and ran farther around the antenna. “I have to admit, when I originally planned blowing the comm antenna, I didn’t think I’d have to do it with the Klin looking for me. This does change things.”

“So you don’t have a way off the roof?”

“I thought we’d improvise.”

Adam placed his last charge and stood up, his arms hanging limply at his side. “So why did you want me to come along with you on this suicide mission?”

McCarthy pulled a small remote detonator control from his satchel and placed it in his pocket. He smiled over at Adam. “Because I’ve always fostered an intense hatred for you, Mr. Cain.”

“Why? What have I ever done to you?”

“You’ve disrupted my plans ever since the first moment you showed up in the Fringe three years ago. I had a pretty sweet gig going until you came along.”

“Yeah, about that – why are you working with the Klin in the first place?”

“They promised me a planet of my own after all this is over with—a little place called Earth.”

“And you believed them?”

“To a point. Like I said, I never trusted them. But you have to admit, it was a tempting offer.”

Adam ran to the edge of the roof and looked over the edge. Below was the parking lot with the lake beyond. Dozens of aliens were moving about, most armed with flash rifles and looking angry. McCarthy came up beside him and looked over the side as well.

“I guess they never figured we’d climb to the roof the building,” he said.

Adam noticed something off to his right. It was a long cable running above him; he followed it until he saw that it connected with the antenna at the central spire. McCarthy followed Adam’s gaze as well. In unison, they turned and followed the cable with their eyes, off the roof and toward the lake. There was a tower located near the lake’s edge where the cable ran, along with several others that came up from the ground, as well as others from along the roof. The two men looked at each other.

“It’s worth a shot,” Adam said. McCarthy nodded. They ran for the antenna.

After climbing to the top of the array, Adam took a closer look at the cable. It was about three inches in diameter and made of spun metal. It didn’t appear to carry an electrical charge, at least not on its exterior. It appeared to be more for support.

“Do you think it will hold us?” McCarthy asked.

Adam grabbed hold of the cable and tested it with his weight. “Looks like it. But what I’m worried about is whether it will break loose when the charges go off.”

“What choice do we have?”

“We could have just left the damn antenna alone and gone with the others. That was a choice!” Adam said pointedly.

McCarthy grinned. “Like they say in America…my bad!”

Adam grabbed onto the cable and swung his legs up to wrap around it. He began to caterpillar his way along the wire. McCarthy was soon doing the same.

Navigating a cable such as this was all part of routine training for SEALs—as well as other military personnel—even though Adam had often wondered when such a skill would come in handy. Now he knew. However, Adam had not done anything like this for years, so even in the light gravity of the planet, it wasn’t long before his arms began to ache and his shoulders burned.

They were now off the roof, crawling along the cable a good fifty meters above the ground. Adam chanced a look over his shoulder and for the first time realized just how high up he was. All it would take is for one of the aliens below to look up and they’d be sitting ducks—

A yell rose up from below and Adam once more glanced over his throbbing shoulder. Several of the aliens were now pointing at them and yelling, as more of them came over to join in, these carrying flash rifles. Xan-Fi’s were accurate up to about a hundred meters, yet their charge dropped off dramatically after only about thirty. Even still, with the two Humans dangling so high off the ground, suspended on a three-inch diameter cable, it wouldn’t take much to knock them off.

Soon the flash of bolts began to ping past them; once a targeting computer locked on, that could be all she wrote.

Adam wrapped his legs tightly around the cable and let go with his hands. As he dangled there upside down, he quickly removed his shirt, and then using all the abdominal strength he could muster, bent back up until his hands gripped the cable once more. He draped the shirt over the cable and began to tie the ends together, forming a loop. McCarthy saw what Adam was doing and understood immediately; he mirrored the maneuver.

Adam began to twist the cloth, wrapping it tighter around the cable, yet leaving a loop at the end. Once it was about as tight as he could make it, he placed his right arm into the loop and gripped it with his left. McCarthy did the same with his own arm.

The pair began to slide down the cable, picking up speed as they went.

As they neared the building where the cable terminated, Adam yelled out: “Blow it!”

McCarthy reached inside his pocket and pulled out the small detonator. He flicked the device on with his thumb and without hesitation depressed the trigger.

The explosion was extremely powerful, hot and loud; the concussion and heat hit them almost instantly, causing them both to lose their grips on the cable with their legs. Now they hung there, held only by the loops in their shirts. Then, much to their chagrin, the antenna array didn’t topple over. Instead, the roof supports surrounding it gave way, and the entire structure simply disappeared into the bowels of the building, crashing into the office of the Pleabaen.

The cable the two Humans dangled from suddenly sprang upward, becoming incredibly taut. Both Adam and McCarthy were tossed upward above the cable, yet their arms, looped within their shirts, kept them from flying off. And then they dropped back down again, Adam crying out in pain as it felt as if his arm was being ripped out of its socket.

The cable snapped.

Adam and McCarthy were hurtling toward the ground, traveling in a wide arc in the direction of the tower near the lake. The two Humans swept over the parking lot about ten meters below, with dozens of aliens scrambling to get out of the way. But the arc continued, and they found themselves flying back up into the air.

At the apogee of the arc, they were over the lake and about twenty meters up. Adam released his grip on his right arm and let it slip through the loop in his shirt, setting him free. He tumbled through the air and impacted the surface of the lake with such a force that he was momentarily stunned. The unexpectedly cold water of the lake jolted him back to his senses, however, and he sank deep into the icy water until his buoyancy stopped him. He kicked for the surface.

Adam emerged about ten meters from the shoreline and quite a ways down from the parking lot. A dozen aliens were running across the grass toward him.

McCarthy suddenly surfaced next to him, a wide grin on his face. “Whoa! That was exciting!”

Adam didn’t say anything, but instead kicked strongly for the shore. They reached it in a few seconds and stepped up onto a firm mud bank. A car raced passed the aliens running toward them; it was only seconds away.

“I don’t know what good all that did,” Adam said as both he and McCarthy bent over, panting, shirtless and shivering from the cold water dripping from their bodies. The car was just about upon them.

The vehicle skidded to a stop; the two Human soldiers spread their legs and brought their arms up in a defensive stance, ready for a fight. They had a pretty good idea they could overpower anyone in the car; what they had to watch for were the weapons.

The door to the transport flew open. “Get in!” a female voice yelled from inside—and then Sherri’s frowning face appeared in the doorway. Without hesitation, Adam and McCarthy jumped for the car, diving head first into the rear compartment. Riyad Tarazi—seated in the driver’s seat—shoved the central joystick forward and the car sped off, just as streaks from flash bolts zoomed past.

Adam was lying face down between Sherri’s legs; he lifted his wet head and looked into her eyes. “Later, stud,” Sherri said with a smile. “Right now we have to get off this damn planet.”

Adam and McCarthy sat up. They were packed into the back seat of the transport with Sherri. The massive Carter Thomas was in the front passenger seat.

“Why aren’t you with the others?” Adam scolded, looking around at the others in the car.

“We thought you might need a lift,” Riyad said.

Thomas looked at his boss. “I sent Mitchell along with the others. They’re about ten minutes ahead of us.”

Riyad steered the car across the grass and around the main building. The antenna had apparently crashed all the way down through the structure, igniting fires as it went, with flames now engulfing nearly half the building. There were hundreds of aliens streaming from the structure; many covered in blood with vacant looks on their faces. Others still rushed out covered in flames, only to collapse to the ground, writhing in agony.

A mass of transports clogged the access gates in and out of the complex, so Riyad steered to the left and plowed through the metal fence next to the main gate.

The crash was loud and violent, as the metal fence bounced off the hood of the car and smashed the front windshield. Glass filled the driver and passenger seats, but Riyad and Thomas were unfazed. They simply brushed off the broken glass, not bothering with the tiny moles of blood dotting their faces and arms.

They were on a main street and moving as fast as the small electric vehicle would allow. “Where to?” Riyad yelled, the wind whipping into the compartment through the shattered windshield.

“Turn right at the next intersection. I’ll guide you from there,” said Carter Thomas.

Adam kept looking through the cracked rear window of the car to see if they were being pursued. Fortunately, there was very little traffic in this part of the city and no one was behind them. Thomas guided them into a rundown industrial section of the city where he had Riyad stop next to a row of buildings with the truck from the estate parked outside.

They exited the dented and scratched car and ran through a set of double doors into the building. Adam was relieved to see a large shuttle sitting in the middle of a cavernous warehouse, the side entrance opened with Andy Tobias standing in the doorway.

“Thank god. We were beginning to worry,” he said, eyeing Adam and McCarthy’s shirtless and soaked torsos with a questioning frown. They slipped in past him and into the shuttle. “I guess I won’t ask.” The lieutenant then shut and dogged the hatch behind him.

Adam followed McCarthy to the pilothouse. One of his men—they hadn’t had time for introductions—was seated in the pilot’s seat. Kaylor and Jym were hunched up against the back bulkhead, looking terrified.

“And of course, you also have a shuttle,” Adam said with a shrug.

McCarthy slipped into the co-pilot’s seat. “Every contingency covered, Mr. Cain.”

“How the hell did you get it inside the building?”

“A little push here, a little pull there.” McCarthy then busied himself with the pre-launch sequence.

The man sitting next to him turned to McCarthy. “Primed; we can go at any time.”

“Do it!”

Instantly—and from all around—there came such a deafening roar that all those not piloting the shuttle placed their hands to their ears. The building around them disintegrated into a cloud of dust and debris, as the first of a series of thousands of microscopic gravity-wells formed far above them. The shuttle was drawn into the air, a bright flash of sunlight now blazing through the shuttle’s viewport. The debris streaming up soon disappeared and the city fell away quickly below. Three minutes later they were in space.

Kaylor stepped up behind the pilot. “This is a short-range shuttle. It will not get us very far,” he said, concern in his voice.

“It only needs to get us there,” McCarthy said, pointing through the viewport at the smaller of the two moons of Marishal.

Adam stepped up next to McCarthy’s seat. “Don’t tell me, you also have a starship hidden on the moon?”

“Nothing fancy, just a little Klin 722—you probably don’t even know what that is, do you?”

“I do,” said Kaylor. He looked over at Adam. “It’s like the ships we saw on Calamore, at the Klin base there. Basic, but it will suffice.”

Adam placed his hand on Nigel McCarthy’s broad and freckled shoulder. “I’m impressed, Mr. McCarthy. Well done.”

McCarthy looked up at him and grinned. “And that is why the SAS can beat the shit out of a SEAL any day.”

Adam returned the grin. He would leave that comment alone…for now.

Chapter 46

Most beings throughout the Expansion would have been surprised to learn that the Juirean High Military Command was not housed in Malor Tower. Nor was it in one of the five surrounding structures that ringed the Tower and made up the Arolus Array high atop the Kacoran Plain on Juir.

Rather, the structure that housed the supreme military force in the galaxy was located a kilometer away in a non-descript building behind a grove of limillian trees. If one didn’t know where to look, it could be easily missed.

One would think this camouflage of the building was intentional, being as it was the headquarters of powerful and secret military activity. In truth, it was not. Instead, for generations the military operations of the Expansion—and the Juireans in particular—had faded into disinterest and neglect. This was not anybody’s fault; it was simply the verities of the times, where peace reigned and dangerous bombast was suppressed by pragmatic need.

And so it was with eye-opening consternation that Council Elder Hydon Ra Elys traveled the short distance to the building just as the battle of Falor-Kapel was unfolding.

With Hydon’s already proclaimed resolution to rebuild the Juirean military to its former glory, he was shocked and appalled to see just how much work lay before him. Even with the recent upgrades made since the beginning of the Juirean-Human conflict, Hydon still couldn’t believe how archaic and out-of-date were so much of the Command’s equipment and processes.

And the Command was only a short walk from the very capital of the Expansion.

In the darkened room—surrounded by other Councilmembers, a dozen Elites and an untold number of Overlords—the leader of the Expansion waited for any word of the battle taking place on the other side of the galaxy. Communications would take four hours to reach them, and so far, the only communique had been a cryptic flash from a supply ship well outside the battle zone mentioning something about ‘additional units.’

What additional units? Whose units? And to what effect?

So when the first detailed link came through, sent out through space four hours earlier, all the highest and most powerful beings in the galaxy huddled closer to the linking screen for the update.

An image appeared, of a haggard looking Guard wearing the capes of a ship’s commander. He began to speak very fast. “This is Senior Guard Sevan Ra Vulus. I command one of the three remaining Juirean vessels—”

Although unaccustomed to spontaneous displays of emotion, most of those huddled around the screen cried out with joy. Even the Elder smiled. He knew this had been a possibility; the forces were just too close to parity. And yet if the Human fleet had been destroyed, with only a few Juirean ships surviving, then that was an acceptable price to pay. The Juirean fleet could always be rebuilt.

But the Senior Guard was continuing: “The three ships that made it through the meat-grinder have assembled near the third planet in the system. We all suffered considerable damage during the journey. I will soon be transferring my surviving crew to one of the less-damaged ships in order to escape the system.”

Escape. Escape from what? Hydon thought.

Sevan was still speaking: “The Humans have regrouped outside the damper field, and even as we speak are sending out scouts searching for survivors. I do not have much time. I am sure by this time you know of the fleet’s destruction…”

Which fleet! Human…or Juirean!

“…When the second Human fleet appeared, all of our forces were trapped at the bottom of the Kapelean Corridor. Some tried to run the damper field but were destroyed by the waiting Humans. Also, the Humans appear to have more advanced weapons which can penetrate diffusion screens with impunity. I…wait.” Sevan was handed a datapad from off screen. “I have just now received the latest screen-capture, which was taken just as we entered the asteroids. Five hundred forty-two was the last count. That is the number of surviving Human combatants.”

The room fell graveyard quiet; stunned looks covered every face, even that of the Elder. Five hundred forty-two Human warships.

“I will be ending this link now. I must make preparations to abandon ship. Any additional forces the Command can authorize to this region must be substantial. The Human fleet is unstoppable at this point.”

The screen went blank; no one spoke for a full minute, and then some of the lower ranking techs moved off to other stations.

When Hydon regained awareness to his surroundings, he noticed all eyes were focused on him. He could feel the muscles in his neck as they twitched, knowing that his anger was on visible display.

He turned to Fleet Marshal Relion, who seemed a half-a-head smaller this day than last. “Gather all the data you can on this battle,” Hydon growled. “I need the clearest picture of what happened as soon as possible. What assets do we have available between Falor-Kapel and here?”

The Fleet Marshal did not consult any screen or datapad. “None, my Lord…none worth mentioning. All our available forces were already deployed.”

Hydon knew his mouth had dropped open involuntarily. He quickly snapped it shut and firmed his jaw. “Have all—and I mean all—remaining military units dispatched immediately to the outer boundary. We do not know if the Humans realize how vulnerable we are to attack. Their journey could take four months, maybe more. Will that be enough time to fortify Juir, Fleet Marshal?”

Relion appeared on the verge of collapse, yet he did manage to say to the Supreme Juirean Leader, “It will have to be Elder. It will have to be.”

Chapter 47

After three hours of fighting, the battle was over. The Humans had lost seventy-four ships, plus another one hundred-two damaged to some degree—including Lee’s flagship. As best they could tell, only three Juireans had escaped.

If ever there had been a decisive victory, this was it.

Fortunately—and much to his relief—the section of Lee’s ship that had been struck had been unmanned at the time. It contained berthing quarters and focusing ring arrays – part of the ship’s propulsion system. With all his crew at General Quarters, no one had been in those compartments when the ship was hit. Still, two of his crew had suffered cuts and broken bones from the impact. When he visited the injured in the small sick bay, they were both in great spirits, buoyed by the victory.

Lee still kicked himself for having risked their lives. Others within the fleet were expected to be the tip of the sword, but not his command ship. This was something he would have to deal with, if possible. During his days of flying the single-seat F-35 Lightning II, if he was hit, only he would pay the price. Now he had risked his entire crew on account of his childish recklessness. He was sure his uncle would have more than a few choice words to say about his behavior when they met for debrief.

Within an hour of the conclusion of the battle, the Humans began to locate the Juirean damper field satellites and disable them. Once an opening was made in the field, the Humans bolted out of the killing field and reassembled just outside the Falor-Kapel system.

A shuttle docked with their ship, and Captain Lee Schwartz, USN—along with Tim Carlson, Second-Generation Human—were transferred to the fleet flagship, one of the KFV-D’s, a large Klin disk fifty times the size of their KFV-A.

Lee scaled the last ladder leading to the wardroom aboard the fleet flagship, while Tim followed close behind, trying his best to keep up. Lee was operating on pure adrenaline now, having not slept in nearly forty hours. The Captain had confided in Tim, telling him that the thrill of the battle—after all the months of playing nursemaid to an ever-growing shadow fleet—had really brought out the warrior in him. And even though he fully expected to be chewed out by his uncle for having risked his life and crew during the engagement, he was ready for anything the top brass wanted to throw at him.

Lee entered the wardroom after a quick knock on the door. Inside were five admirals and two generals, each with wide grins on their faces, either standing or seated. There was champagne on the long metal table. Also, seated against a far wall, was Michael Rittenberg, the senior 2G in the fleet.

Lee’s uncle, Admiral Nate Allen, noticed the young Captain immediately. “Speak of the devil, here’s the man of the hour now.”

All the senior officers gathered around him, shaking hands and patting him on the back. Tim faded into the background, letting Lee have his moment.

Nate Allen approached and gripped his nephew’s right hand tightly. “I should have you busted all the way down to seaman recruit for the stunt you pulled out there. You were in command…not some hotshot jet-jockey.”

“Yes, sir,” Lee said, the light in his eyes betraying the bags that had formed below them. “I couldn’t let the other guys have all the fun. Besides, I didn’t ask for the command, you just kinda laid it on me.”

“That’s true, and that is a subject for another time. But right now, great job, son. Great job. This is a victory for the record books.”

“Yeah, it worked…just like it was drawn up.”

The admiral noticed the young 2G standing against a far wall, looking out of place. “Come over here, Mr. Carlson,” he commanded warmly.

Caught off guard, Tim was embarrassed as all the eyes turned toward him. Everyone in the room was aware that he was a 2G, a Human who was not even born on the planet Earth and who had been raised by the Klin. Most native-born were very stand-offish toward his kind; Tim still had no idea why Lee insisted that he come along on this journey.

Nate shook the man’s hand vigorously. “I want to thank you for saving my nephew’s life. He told me all about it. Your quick actions and expert knowledge when encountering the damper field saved many a life. I will be forever in your debt.”

“Eh, thank you, sir,” Tim stammered. “Just doing my job.”

“Yes you were…and a job well done. I know it hasn’t been easy for you over these past several months, but I just want you to know that you are now an honorary native-born Human, and you will always be welcomed as part of the larger Human family. It’s actions that define a man, not his birthplace.”

Tim had to fight back the emotions. His whole life was a study in contradictions and lies, never settled, never feeling like he was part of well, anything. Now, he not only had friends, respect and acceptance, he also had a home. And it was not just a house or a country, but an entire planet.

Lee stepped up to them. “What now, Admiral? Where do we go from here?”

There was a large screen on the opposite wall, displaying a bright and colorful representation of this part of the galaxy. Nate looked over at the display. “I guess that depends on where the next Juirean fleet shows up. I know they have to have more than just the one.”

Tim noticed when Rittenberg rose from his chair. As a fellow 2G, Tim had been watching him for a few moments, wondering what emotions were going through his mind in the aftermath of the victory over the Juireans. Now he watched as the older man moved closer to the screen.

“Excuse me, sir,” Rittenberg said. “As you know, I have some knowledge regarding the functioning of the Expansion.”

Nate turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Of course I know. Please….”

Rittenberg moved to the large display, while all the scrambled eggs and silver stars gathered around him. He pointed to a spot on the display. “This is where we are now and this bright cluster near the center is the galactic core. It is a place of incredible violence and destruction, as our central black hole makes the region very unstable. There are very few habitable planets in the region, and so the galaxy is divided into two distinct sides. From what the Juireans have sent against us so far, I believe they have depleted their available resources on this side of the galaxy in an all-out attempt to defeat you—us—here at Falor Kapel. If they had had more resources to contribute, I believe they would have already.”

“That makes sense,” said General Steven Block, USAF. “So you’re saying this side of the galaxy is more-or-less ours for the taking?”

“Pretty much, sir. However, this side of the galaxy contains most of the unsettled sectors of the Expansion and has always required more military resources to keep them in line. The other side is where the Expansion has been established the longest. Peace has reigned there much longer.”

“Are you saying that the Juireans may not have that many additional assets to throw against us?” Nate asked, incredulously. “They’re a goddamn galactic empire, for Christ’s sake! They have to have more than one fleet.”

“You must remember, sir, that another five hundred ships were destroyed off the Earth, plus another eight hundred or so since the start of this campaign. That may not sound like a lot for something as large as the Expansion, but the Juireans have not had to fight a major war in over a thousand years, and nothing as serious as this one in, well…ever. They simply have not had the need for more military assets.”

“Unbelievable,” Nate Allen said. “I’m not saying you’re right, Mr. Rittenberg, but if you are, then we’ve very close to having this war won.”

“Sir, the Juireans will recover, in time. They still have incredible industrial capabilities and trillions upon trillions of beings from which to recruit.”

“We can’t let them do that, Admiral,” Lee threw in. “If we rest now, and simply consolidate our holdings on this side of the galaxy, it will give the bastards time to recover.”

“Agreed,” said Admiral Allen. “But we need a target, and it doesn’t look like the Juireans will provide us with one for quite a while.”

“There is one, sir,” Tim said, speaking up finally. All eyes turned to him.

“Where?”

He walked over to the large screen; Rittenberg stepped out of his way. Tim placed his finger on a point on the other side of the galactic core. “Right here.”

Everyone in the room leaned in for a closer look.

“Where is that?” the admiral asked.

“It’s the planet Juir.”

Chapter 48

Jonnif of the Kracori, Commander of the Ludif Forces operating with the Klin, was as furious as he could get without being engaged in a death-frenzy. His two loyal assistants, Kolif and Bulinif were equally upset. The Humans had managed to thwart years of planning in the span of three hours, destroying the Juirean fleet and revealing an unbeatable force that could now run rampant throughout this part of the galaxy.

The three Kracori were in Jonnif’s private chambers aboard the Klin flagship, trying to sort out their options in the face of this staggering new reality.

“The Klin have completely underestimated the Humans, and this breakdown has jeopardized our plans as well,” Jonnif declared.

Bulinif dropped heavily onto the couch and kicked a leg up on the arm rest. “The Klin are the weak-links here. They have procrastinated for generations in taking the initiative against the Juireans and their obsession with the Humans has now cost us the advantage.”

“You speak the truth, Bulinif,” Jonnif said. He had pulled an intoxicant from the wall dispenser and downed the drink in a single gulp. The strong liquid would clear his head in a moment or two. “I’m afraid it is now obvious that the Klin have outlived their usefulness. They promised us a share of the Expansion, and they cannot deliver on even part of it. And now they have armed and trained an opposition force greater than even the Juireans. I see no reason to continue with this charade.”

Kolif downed his own intoxicant and then slammed the glass down on the table in front of him. “Agreed. The Klin are so few anyway that they would have been of no help in any major battle. The legend of the Klin was to provide us with the credibility necessary to rule, but now it is the legend of Earth that must be overcome.”

Jonnif suddenly stood up from where he sat and activated the monitor that made up a good portion of the tabletop where Kolif sat. He leaned over the display. Bulinif rose from the couch and joined his two companions, now huddled over the table. Jonnif pulled up a representation of the central region of the galaxy and placed his finger on a point just above the galactic core.

“Juir is the key, my Ludifs. Whoever controls Juir controls the Expansion.”

“This is true, Jonnif, but the Humans now have an open corridor all the way there,” Bulinif said. “It was our plan all along. Once the Humans and Juireans were destroyed, we could then run straight to the planet with very little resistance, arriving long before the Juireans could recover. Now we cannot do that.”

“Why not?” Jonnif asked. “The Humans are neophytes in the ways of the Expansion. They may not even know that their path is clear.”

Bulinif’s eyes grew wide. “That is correct! They have won a battle here, but they may not realize that the war is won. All they need to do is move on Juir.”

“And that is all we must do, as well. The first force to reach Juir—and destroy the capital of the Expansion—can claim the mantel of ruler of the new Expansion, or whatever the Ludif Assembly will choose to call it.” He grinned at his two companions. “And without the Klin to restrict our operations, we will be free to rebuild the galaxy into whatever form we choose.”

“What of the Humans?” Kolif asked. “Even with the Juireans and the Klin defeated, there would still be a powerful force left to challenge our authority.”

“This is true, my Ludif. The Humans will have to be dealt with, that is a certainty. However, our priority should now be to beat them to the planet Juir. We may not have the strength to defeat their fleet, but we do have ample power to lay waste to the home of the Juirean scum.”

“And the Klin?”

Jonnif smiled again. “Let a purge of our own begin. Just as the Humans have recently discovered, they are of no further use to us. Assemble the fleet…and set a course for Juir!”

Chapter 49

Juirean Overlord Anawar Fe Batlin looked over the shoulder of the screen operator and frowned. “Are you sure?” he asked the nervous Fenwolenese, squirming in his chair.

“Yes, my Lord. It matches the signature we now have in our database. It is definitely a Klin—or I mean—a Human spacecraft.”

“Cluster the ships on my location, we are going to investigate. Raise the shields and charge the launchers,” The Overlord returned to his command chair, both shocked and surprised that he would find such a vessel so far above the ecliptic plane. From his understanding, all the Human battle forces were concentrated in Region Six and well within the ecliptic.

This fact was actually the reason Anawar was where he was at the time. He had been tasked with rounding up all available Juirean military craft from the outlying systems, no matter how small or insignificant those vessels may be. He was then to escort them to Juir; the Authority was in the process of consolidating all available forces there, either as a buffer against the advancing Humans, or as the core of a new fleet to be sent against them.

Anawar’s picking had been sparse, and to date he had acquired only two aging Class-3’s, four small Enforcers and four other craft that had been originally merchant vessels, yet now carried single bolt launchers on their bows. It wasn’t much, but it was all the isolated and nearly-forgotten Members of the outer Expansion had to offer.

The fact that a Klin-built starship—whether manned by Klin or Humans—had been detected this far from the battle theater raised a variety of concerns for the aging Overlord.

First, this could mean that his small force may have stumbled upon the secret hiding place of the evil Klin. Like all Juireans, Anawar was overcome with emotion when it was confirmed that the Klin endured, and for four thousand years had been planning their revenge against the Juirean race. And now that the war had begun, the Klin were proving they had found the perfect surrogates with which to carry out their evil deeds in the form of the barbaric Humans.

The other possibility was that this ship was not operating alone, and that the Humans were attempting to outflank the Expansion by traveling into its heart from above the ecliptic plane. Yet so far, no other gravity signatures had been detected. This ship appeared to be traveling alone.

Anwar’s options were obvious, in light of the overwhelming advantage in firepower he had over this single vessel. He could simply blow the ship to atoms, or he could have it submit and take the crew as prisoners. The second possibility was preferred. Acquiring an intact Klin spacecraft—along with its crew—could be very valuable to the technicians and analysts within the Authority.

Whether or not he could take the ship captive would depend on the course of action its crew chose to take. If they elected to stand and fight, then he would surely destroy the ship. If they succumbed, then he would accept their surrender.

On the forward screen, Anawar saw his small fleet form up to the rear of the contact. They would overtake it in less than ten minutes at their current velocity. The choice as to whether they lived or died now rested in the hands of the crew of the small saucer-shaped vessel.

Either way, Anawar would be satisfied.

* * *

“Son-of-a-bitch! Didn’t we just leave this party?” Sherri Valentine yelled to no one in particular. She ran to the pilothouse just as Riyad approached from the other direction.

Already inside were Adam, McCarthy and Tobias, along with the two aliens, Kaylor and Jym. Adam nodded to her as she entered, a look of worry and disgust on his face.

“Juireans, are you sure?” she asked moving to get a closer look at the tac screen facing Nigel McCarthy.

The big Brit didn’t look back at her, but rather kept his attention focused on the screen. “Not just Juireans, Miss Valentine, but ten of them.”

“What are they doing this far out?”

“At the moment they’re rapidly closing on our bloody position.”

“What are you going to do?”

“The better question is what are they going to do?” said Andy Tobias. “We can’t outrun them and we can’t out fight them. If they’re in a bad mood, they may just blast the crap out of us.”

Adam slipped into the co-pilot seat next to McCarthy and activated the shields. “I for one am not going down without a fight!”

“Relax, Mr. Cain,” said McCarthy. “We’re already within range of their weapons. I think if they intended to shoot, they would have done so by now.”

Adam released the controls and leaned back in the chair. He let out a deep sigh. “So what now, prisoners again and hope for an escape or rescue?” He looked around at the others in the pilothouse. “Just about everyone I’ve ever counted on to come to my rescue is right here in this room with me. If we’re going to do this, we’ll have to do it on our own.”

Riyad Tarazi placed his hand on Adam’s shoulder and grinned in his interminable way. “Adam my friend, we are all quite resourceful—as you are well aware. We have been like a cancer to all our past captors, destroying them from the inside out. If I were the Juireans, I would be the ones afraid of taking us prisoner.”

* * *

The Juirean forces dissolved their wells and then moved under chemical drive to surround the much smaller spacecraft. A comm link was established, sending directions for docking the Klin starship within the bowels of the Class-3. Soon, atmosphere was returning to the vast landing bay, as the shimmering hull of the alien craft creaked and moaned, warming from the absolute cold of space.

Anawar had never seen a Klin/Human spacecraft in person before—very few Juireans had and lived to tell about it—so he was anxious to see this one up close. As he entered the landing bay, he was first struck by the circular shape of the craft and its near-uniform silver color. The prominent disk now rested on a wide pedestal that had descended from its center. A doorway in the base was slowly sliding open.

A squad of twenty security personnel formed a semi-circle facing the doorway, flash rifles leveled and ready for any sign of hostilities. Having read dozens of reports regarding the ferocity of the Humans, the Overlord could not discount the possibility of a head-on suicidal attack by the beasts from within the ship. The guards were nervous, yet ready.

Anawar stepped forward to calm his guards. They were all non-Juireans, and he didn’t want any premature discharge of their weapons should the occupants of the ship flinch the wrong way. That could get messy.

And besides, he might actually see a Klin emerge from the doorway in the pedestal, and not a Human. To see a Klin in the flesh would be the most momentous event in his life. An actual Klin….

To his disappointment, no Klin emerged from the circular ship. Instead there appeared a Human, about a full head shorter than he, wearing a light tan shirt with an open front, displaying a primitive-looking series of abdominal muscles for all to see. Disgusting. The creature had dirty yellow hair, bright blue eyes and a redness on the left side its face which appeared to be a healing wound. The creature’s arms were bare below the shoulders and exhibited a remarkable degree of musculature—Anawar had read that these creatures were extremely strong and quick with their reactions. Overall, the beast looked primitive and savage, as the reports indicated it would be.

Yet the expression on the face, coupled with the sharpness of the eyes, led Anawar to believe that this being also possessed a hidden intelligence not mentioned in the reports. He would have to be careful with this one—

And then Anawar involuntarily took a step backwards, as another Human appeared, followed by another and then another. In a moment, Anawar Fe Batlin, Overlord of the Juirean Expansion, was experiencing an emotion he had never felt before. His heart raced and he felt a flushness on his face. He knew this to be fear…and standing before him was the catalyst for this feeling.

He now counted thirteen Humans standing before him, all dressed in a variety of tattered and dirty clothing. Some were even larger than the yellow-haired one; there was even a black one of a size almost equal to his own. There was an obvious female in the group as well, yet from her demeanor she appeared as an equal to the males, both in resolve and toughness. In the back stood two other creatures, a Belsonian and a Fulquin, yet Anawar could not take his eyes off the Humans.

The Overlord could sense the tenseness in his guards; if he was feeling such, then surely the non-Juireans manning the flash rifles must be on the verge of panic. Anawar looked over at the sentries and calmly spoke: “Stand at ease. Do not fire unless ordered.”

The row of sentries appeared to relax, even more so when five Juirean Guards entered the landing bay, also armed with flash rifles. They took up positions on either side of the Overlord. Good, Counselor Timino is observing, Anawar thought. He has sent reinforcements.

The yellow-haired Human took two steps forward—he was apparently their leader. “What now, boss?” the creature asked.

Gathering his courage, Anawar himself stepped forward until he was only an arm’s length from the formidable beast. “I am Overlord Anawar Fe Batlin. You and your crew are now prisoners of war. Your ship will be confiscated and—”

Anawar broke off as an excited voice blared through the microphone in his ear. He raised his hand to the side of his head in an involuntary reaction to the sound. “My Lord!” said his Counselor through the link. “Facial recognition has just identified the Human with which you are speaking. It is Adam Cain, my Lord! Adam Cain!”

Anawar suddenly locked eyes with those of the alien. He took a step back. “You are the terrorist Adam Cain!” the Overlord said in a voice that echoed throughout the landing bay.

The creature raised his eyebrows and his lips began to stretch wider across his face. “That didn’t take long. I suppose my mug shot is plastered everywhere from here to Timbuktu.”

“Yes, you are well-known to all Juireans. Your murderous exploits have been related in all their bloody detail. I am also aware that you had been in transit to Juir when you escaped from your captivity, killing nearly all of the crew aboard a Class-3 battlecruiser.” Anawar heard a murmur run through the non-Juirean guards in the landing bay.

“I had help,” Adam Cain said, cocking his head sideways slightly. “Now that we’re all acquainted, I return to my original question: what now?”

Anawar’s chest was exploding with excitement—and trepidation. Here was the infamous Adam Cain, standing before him, and within his custody. There was only one thing he could do.

“You, Adam Cain, will be presented to Council Elder Hydon Ra Elys, the leader of the Juirean Expansion, and the most powerful being in the galaxy. I will personally deliver you to him on our glorious homeworld of Juir!”

The End

of

Tactics of Revenge

The Human Chronicles Saga

Next up…

The Legend of Earth

As all the forces in the galaxy converge on the planet Juir, Adam Cain and his team of Navy SEALs and SAS Commandos soon discover that there’s a new enemy on the scene: the Kracori – another super-race recruited by the Klin as their surrogates in war.

Yet now the Kracori have decided to take matters into their own hands, not settling to be the puppets of the Klin any longer.

This is the next exciting chapter in The Human Chronicles Saga, as galactic forces collide, alliances are betrayed and a startling truth is revealed that will leave the Human race either the masters of the galaxy or simply a tragic footnote in the history of the Milky Way.

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Novels by T.R. Harris

The Adam Cain Saga

The Dead Worlds

Empires

Battle Plan

Galactic Vortex

Dark Energy

Universal Law

The Formation Code

The Quantum Enigma

Children of the Aris

The Human Chronicles

The Fringe Worlds

Alien Assassin

The War of Pawns

The Tactics of Revenge

The Legend of Earth

Cain’s Crusaders

The Apex Predator

A Galaxy to Conquer

The Masters of War

Prelude to War

The Unreachable Stars

When Earth Reigned Supreme

A Clash of Aliens

Battlelines

The Copernicus Deception

Scorched Earth

Alien Games

The Cain Legacy

The Andromeda Mission

Last Species Standing

Invasion Force

Force of Gravity

Mission Critical

The Lost Universe

The Immortal War

Destroyer of Worlds

Phantoms

Terminus Rising

The Last Aris

The Human Chronicles Box Set Series

Box Set #1 – Books 1-5 in the series

Box Set #2 – Books 6-10 in the series

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

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

Box Set #5—Books 21-25 in the series

REV Warriors Series

Rev

REV: Renegades

REV: Rebirth

REV: Revolution

REV: Retribution

REV Warriors Part 2

REV: Revelations

REV: Resolve

REV: 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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