by T. R. Harris
The Holaconese screamed out in protest, his main set of arms jutting through the netting and waving in terror. Adam sat on the chair.
“Assault! Assault! Summon the authorities,” the creature screeched.
Adam looked around at the gathering crowd of curious stark-naked Formilians and smiled. If there was anywhere in the galaxy where his face was recognized, it was here. He was the very public consort of the Formilian Speaker and had lived in the system aboard the Klin Colony Ship for several years. They knew him as the famous Adam Cain, Savior of the Galaxy, and if he wanted to wrap a color-shifting alien in a net and then sit on him, who were they to interfere? Most moved on, minding their business.
“Why are you spying on me?” Adam asked the still struggling alien.
“I…I was not spying on you. I am offended by the accusation.”
“Cut the bullshit. Who hired you?”
Adam knew Holaconese were highly sought-after covert spies, based on their ability to blend into a variety of backgrounds, becoming essentially invisible.
“I was not spying on you; I have no employer.”
Both Adam and the alien were now in the full light of the Formilian sun, and the Holaconese appeared to be in distress. His once shimmering skin—along with his accompanying clothing with the same chemical properties—was shifting much too swiftly and without a pattern. He wasn’t blending with the sand, nor the blue of the sky. Adam leaned over closer, mesmerized by the chaotic colors.
A few drops of water fell from Adam’s wet hair, landing on the forehead of the color-shifter. A ring of white radiated out from where each drop landed and the alien yelped with pain.
“Water hurts you?” Adam asked, incredulously.
“No. Not the water. It is the refractive quality of the light through the droplets. It magnifies the effect and overloads my color receptors. Please move me back into the shadows.”
“I might…if you tell me who hired you to spy on me.”
“Again, I reiterate, I am not spying on you.”
Adam shook his head, sending a shower of salty rain onto the alien. He cried out again in pain.
“I will tell you nothing!” the creature yelled.
They are tough little bastards, Adam thought.
Adam reached down and took the bottom of the netting into his hands.
“Have it your way,” he said. “Maybe a little dip in the ocean will change your mind.”
He began to drag the net-encased alien toward the water, leaving a smooth trough in the sand along the way.
“No! Stop! You must not.”
“Then tell me what I want to know.”
They were only a few feet from the water when the alien gave in.
“I will tell you!”
Adam stopped pulling and looked down at his captive, waiting.
“In the shade.”
“No, now, or we’re going for a swim.”
“Panur! It was Panur.”
Adam frowned. “Panur? He hired you to spy on me?”
“Please, take me to the shade. I will explain.”
Adam obliged, and a few seconds later, they were back near the bar and under the protection of a large, colorful canvas awning. Adam kept the alien wrapped in the net.
“All right, why is Panur spying on me?”
“I do not know. I simply provide raw video footage of you while on Formil. I relay this to Panur. He does with it what he wishes. You know the mutant. He is quite powerful and convincing. I do only what he asks.”
Adam twisted his face into a scowl. Of course, Panur would be watching him, wanting to keep track of any strange abilities he may develop. But to hire someone to keep an eye on him, that was uncalled for. Then something dawned on him: This was Adam’s first day on the beach.
“Were you making videos of me in the room as well?”
The alien hesitated. When Adam gripped the netting tighter, a threat to pull the spy back into the sunlight, he spoke up. “Yes. I installed multiple cameras in your room. Again, I make no judgment as to what is pertinent or not. I forward all recordings to Panur.”
So, Panur had four days of Adam and Arieel’s very graphic sex tapes. And he undoubtedly showed them to Lila as well, providing Adam’s daughter with hours of footage of her mother and father getting it on. Adam grimaced. He knew Lila had been raised more Formilian than Human and shared many of the customs and beliefs of her more-liberated mother. That was good, to a degree. But still, he was embarrassed.
“Throw out your weapons, and I’ll let you go,” Adam said to the Holaconese spy. The alien accepted payment to do a job; Adam couldn’t fault him for that.
A moment later a small MK laser pistol landed on the sand outside the net. Next came a four-inch knife. That figures, Adam thought. Their weapon of choice. But then another knife joined the pile, along with a pencil laser, a stun wand, another knife and a miniature flash dart.
Where the hell did he keep all that stuff?
“Is that it?”
Another object landed in the sand, something that looked like a set of brass knuckles.
“That is all.”
Adam stepped back and let the alien extricate himself from the netting. Once free, he bent down to pick up his weapons.
“They stay here,” Adam snapped. “Now, go before I really get mad.”
The spy scurried off.
Adam picked up the assortment of weapons and carried them to a nearby trash bin. He tossed them inside.
Adam was fuming by this point, upset that Panur didn’t trust him enough to report the manifestation of any new abilities. He moved down the beach, back to Arieel and the line of guards protecting their leader.
The Formilian sentry frowned. He looked behind him to the empty blanket next to the dozing Arieel and then back to Adam approaching from outside the restricted area. Adam stepped up to him.
“Do you have a communicator?”
He handed the device to Adam.
“I’ll only be a second.” Adam stepped away and opened a link with the Colony Ship. He looked up into the tropical sky, noticing the bright dot that was the station far above, visible even during the day.
“This is Adam Cain; I need to speak with Panur.”
A Formilian crewmember aboard the space station set out to locate the mutant. A few moments later, Panur’s face was visible on the tiny monitor.
“You have discovered my agent,” the mutant stated without embarrassment.
“Of course I did,” Adam barked. “I said I would let you know if anything major showed up. You didn’t need to record my every move.”
“I may be able to notice things you could not, my friend. Truly, what I did was not intended as a slight. I will call off the others. You will have your privacy.”
“Others? You mean that color-shifting bastard wasn’t the only one?”
“Your powers may manifest at any hour. I needed a team of operatives to cover you effectively.”
Adam’s shoulders slumped. “And the videos, who’s seen them?”
There was the slightest hesitation from the mutant.
“Only those with a need to know. Or an interest.”
“An interest! Lila?”
“Yes.”
“Sherri?”
“Yes.”
“Copernicus?”
“He was most anxious to view them until Sherri put a stop to it.”
“And, of course, Riyad.”
“He has requested copies.”
“Why didn’t you just broadcast them across the whole friggin’ galaxy?”
“That would not have been appropriate.”
Adam shook his head. “I’m cutting my vacation short. I can’t trust that you won’t bring in another crew to replace this one.”
“There is no need. Besides, Arieel will be heartbroken.”
But I’ll be able to get some rest, Adam thought. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“If you insist. But it seemed as though you rather
enjoyed the vigorous workout sessions with our enthusiastic Formilian friend, although at times we worried for your wellbeing. Are the Formilians not a stimulating and energetic race, so full of sexual creativity, as we have both experienced firsthand?”
“That’s my daughter you’re talking about, dickhead,” Adam exclaimed. Panur and Lila had been an item for a while, but that didn’t make it easier for Adam to swallow. Then he focused in on the tiny, featureless gray face of the mutant and scowled, fighting against images of a graphic sexual nature invading his imagination. “Eww. You’re disgusting.”
“Me?” Panur flashed a perverted grin. If he had eyebrows, he would have fluttered them most lasciviously.
Adam snapped the communicator shut and tossed the device back to the Formilian guard. The native batted it around for a while before dropping it into the sand.
3
Adam’s ears still rang from the tongue-lashing Arieel gave him when he said he was cutting his vacation short and returning to the space station. He promised he would make it up to her, but that would depend entirely on how quickly he recovered from his current vacation.
The shuttle slipped into one of the vast receiving bays of the Colony Ship—a vessel he had only recently christened the Behemoth. He’d grown tired of calling the Colony Ship the Colony Ship. The aliens were okay with that. In fact, they preferred to call it the 74-K3, which is what the Klin called it. That designation had never caught on with the Humans who lived aboard the massive vessel, and since Adam was now the official owner of the station, he made an executive decision concerning the name. Besides, he liked the sound of Behemoth. One couldn’t say it without it sounding, well, huge. It also reminded him of a simpler time; a time when he first read about the adventures of the starship Behemoth in the space opera novels of Michael Freeport. That was before there were real aliens and real starships. In a way, he longed for the blissful ignorance of that time, before the fate of planets and galaxies rested on his shoulders. Sure, he was being melodramatic. But in his case, it was true more often than not.
He took a golf-cart-like transport to a nearby construction bay, where his team and the mutants were hard at work on the two trans-dimensional starships Panur had designed. Everyone was there when he entered. His temper reignited when he encountered the sly smiles and snickers of Sherri, Riyad and Copernicus. Lila and Panur hid their emotions behind masks of stoic indifference.
“Welcome back, stud,” Sherri jibed. “You look… well rested.”
“Knock it off,” he said to the vivacious blonde. Then he pointed at the two lecherous men. “And you two, you’re just jealous.”
Riyad threw up his hands. “I concede, my friend,” he said, flashing his trademark white smile. “However, I prefer my lovemaking to be an act of tenderness and affection, not a cage-match wrestling contest. You are a better man than me to have survived to talk about it.”
“I’m not talking about it—ever again. You got that?”
Each of his friends gave him bows and prayer hands of forgiveness, apologizing profusely, if disingenuously.
Adam shot an angry look at the tiny grey mutant. “See what you started? I hope you’re happy.”
“To be honest, I am,” Panur said. “Every chance I get to study Human emotional interaction is a treat.”
Adam’s extended middle finger gesture was well known to the alien. Panur shrugged it off and returned to work.
Adam moved on as well, shifting his attention. He looked at the pair of sleek, metallic blue starships dominating the vast chamber. They were incredible looking vessels, each about a hundred meters long by thirty wide. They didn’t carry the bulbous twin gravity generators at their sterns like most other ships; rather, they had only modest deformations for more compact grav-drives. These were trans-dimensional starships which moved through space by jumping between universes, able to cover vast distances faster than any conventionally powered craft. They didn’t need huge generators to create deep gravity wells, only compact interior units to provide basic maneuvering upon arrival at a transit point.
This also made the interiors roomier than other ships of comparable size. For a luxury vessel, that was a bonus. But Panur had designed these ships with combat in mind. The mutant genius had equipped the ships with an array of cutting-edge weapons and defenses, a habit he’d acquired during his recent arms race with Kracion. The ships—designated Sansa and Arya after the two Stark daughters from George R. R. Martin’s classic A Song of Ice and Fire novels—were simply the most powerful spacecraft in the galaxy. Panur was hoping they would be the most powerful ships in any galaxy the team visited. Not that they were looking for trouble, but on the mission they were planning, they had to be ready for every eventuality. Where they were going, there would be no backup.
The mission was to follow the faint—yet distinctive—trail of the Aris starship that was presumed to have saved Kracion at the last minute from crashing headlong into the fiery hell of his prison-star. From the moment the screens flared, and contact was lost with the pod carrying the Mad Aris, the mutants were planning the mission. They were desperate to learn Kracion’s fate. Was he cast into the star, or did the Aris rescue him? And if they had, what were their plans for him?
Although answering these questions was the primary objective of the mission, Adam felt Panur and Lila were equally curious about the immortal Privileged Aris themselves. There were fifteen of them, and no one knew what became of them since attaining immortality. The mutants were curious what plans they may have for the Milky Way if any?
For Adam, his primary goal was to make sure Kracion wasn’t coming back—nor any of the other Aris. He’d had enough of the scrawny three-billion-year-old creatures to last a lifetime.
“Are you ready to get back to work and lend us a hand?” Copernicus asked, a scowl on his face. “You picked a hell of a time to take a vacation. We launch in four days. If you’d stuck around, we’d be on our way already.”
“What’s your rush? The evil immortals will still be around when we get there, wherever there is.”
Coop scanned Adam’s bright blue Aloha shirt with its white and orange flowers, along with his knee-length brown swim trunks and open-toed sandals. “You should at least be color-coordinated.”
Adam shrugged. “I don’t think anyone cared much about that on Formil, especially on the nude beach. You really missed it, Coop. Too bad you didn’t come along.”
Coop shot a furtive glance at Sherri. Copernicus had pleaded with her to make the vacation a couples thing, consisting of him and Sherri and Adam and Arieel. That suggestion landed like a lead balloon on the home front.
“Stow your gear, Mr. Cain,” Riyad said from behind him, saving both men from any further embarrassment. “And then man a working party. We have provisions to load. Snap to it, sailor.”
4
Monty slept the first two days of the journey to Sasin. When he awoke, he made his way to the pilothouse, thankful for the lack of gravity in the Forty. Summer was asleep in her cabin, but he found Tidus strapped into the pilot seat, staring blankly at the distant stars through the forward viewport.
“You are awake,” the Juirean noticed. “How are you feeling?”
“I think sleep is worse than the injury. It’s hard to get moving after so long in bed.”
“Does Summer know you are awake?”
“Not yet. I looked in on her. She’s sound asleep.”
“That is good. She has remarked how she is having what you call nightmares. Sleep has become a curse for her.”
“Considering all she’s been through; can you blame her? People like you and me, Tidus, we accept all this.” Monty waved his hand at the vastness of space beyond the viewport. “She’s crammed a lifetime of weird experiences into a single year. And her time at the Aris base had to leave scars.”
“I was not being critical. She is a remarkable example of your race—perhaps too remarkable.”
Monty frowned. “What does that mean?”
&nb
sp; Tidus turned to face the former Navy master chief. “My friend, I have had many experiences with Humans, including Adam Cain and the others. I have witnessed firsthand the exceptional nature of your race and accept fully the outcome of the Juirean and Human encounters. However, what I saw during the Cartel attack went beyond even what Adam could achieve, and we both know why his abilities are superior to most other Humans.”
“The mind melds with Panur.”
“Precisely.”
Monty’s frown remained etched on his forehead. “If this is about the attack, then you’re going to have to provide more detail. Remember, I passed out right at the beginning.” He looked around at the interior of the pilot house. “I accept the fact that we survived, but I’ve been asleep since then. Tell me what happened. All I remember is that the Cartel ships fired on us. All of them. After that, I’m blank. I’m actually surprised I woke up at all.”
“Of course,” said Tidus. He turned to his console and pulled up a data file. Monty leaned in closer to see it. His abdomen was still healing, so he winced from the effort. “As you see from this playback, Summer’s initial efforts were reckless and off-target. But immediately after the Cartel fired, she began to gain proficiency at a phenomenal rate. See here, this is a scale of rate-of-fire and accuracy.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen charts like this before.”
“Then you know the efficiency is beyond anything short of full computer automation. And then she accessed the forward battery to destroy another vessel.”
“I didn’t show her how to do that.”
“That is true. But somehow, she learned—and during the briefness of the encounter. In all honesty, neither of us could have done half as well.” Tidus leaned back from the screen. “Tell me, Monty, from all indications, Summer has an innate talent for targeting and shooting, evidenced by her prior record. Is what you see here a result of that talent, or is something else at work?”