Empires: A Classic Space Opera Adventure (The Adam Cain Chronicles Book 2)

by T. R. Harris

  20

  Maybe it was paranoia, but Adam got the impression the city of Kanac was waking up several hours before daybreak. Lights were flickering on, and there was more activity on the streets. Transports zipped along the roads and sound filtered down from windows as Adam hurried along the wooden sidewalk.

  He was expecting a reaction, both to his escape, as well as from the refugee group after Hannon. What did Sherri call them, the Afinn Alliance? But what was happening here was something else. Something bigger.

  The 22nd Street Bridge was only a few blocks away. It was one of three bridges across the Us’nor River that ran through the middle of Kanac. It flowed down from the Foothills and emptied into the ocean south of Balamar, in fact, not far from Coop’s shipyard. Adam crossed the street and looked down at the shallow, slow-moving river. Was it possible for he and Hannon to take the river to Balamar? He’d never heard of the river being used to ship goods. It was wild, with deep pools followed by raging rapids. Then it wound around the hills between Kanac and Balamar before ending at a hundred-foot waterfall at the ocean’s edge. Maybe it would be possible, but they would need a boat, but since the river wasn’t used for much, there wasn’t a lot of them in the area. Adam would keep the river as a last resort.

  Adam surveyed the bridge, which had a stone base on each bank with wooden planks joining them. It wasn’t a very impressive bridge, but it could carry four lanes of traffic while the other two only carried two. Most of the city’s commercial enterprises were found along the river, following Nineteen and Eighteen Streets. Most streets in Kanac were numbered. The problem: They didn’t follow any logical pattern.

  So, where was Hannon?

  There was more foot traffic on the bridge than would be expected at this hour, with groups of aliens essentially running in packs. Something was certainly afoot, and Adam knew he and Hannon were the cause. He checked his weapons inventory. He still had the two MK-17s from the Juirean ship. Each had limited bolts left, but he did have four extra battery packs, giving him a combined forty shots. That wasn’t a lot against an entire city mobilizing against him. He had no idea what Hannon had with him, but knowing Delta Force as he did, he was sure Mike wasn’t unarmed.

  He moved closer, hugging the buildings until he had a clear view of the bridge. Where was Hannon?

  A strong arm suddenly wrapped around his throat and pulled him back. The power was incredible—and unexpected. He tried to twist around but was held firmly in his assailant’s grip. Then he relaxed.

  “You can let me go now.”

  Adam turned to see a grinning Mike Hannon in the shadowy haze.

  That’s when Adam slugged him, sending Hannon to the ground.

  “Fuck you, Cain!”

  “No, fuck you, Hannon. You killed a friend of mine.”

  “He was a Juirean.”

  “So what?” Adam asked, hovering over Mike, daring him to get up. “I liked him.”

  “Like in some alien bestiality way?”

  “I should leave you here and let this town tear you apart.”

  “Then you, Sherri, and all the rest of the Humans will be taken away by the Juireans and locked away somewhere, or worse. And the Union won’t do a damn thing to help you. You’re all part of the conspiracy to kill Quanin and start a galactic war. You think you’ve had it bad before, wait until that happens.”

  “You son of a bitch!”

  “Yeah, I’ve been called that recently.”

  Hannon got up from the ground and dusted himself off, keeping a wary eye out for another fist from Adam.

  “I have information that will make you all heroes.”

  “We’re already heroes, or haven’t you been paying attention.”

  “I can place the blame on where it belongs. Without what I know, you’re all screwed.”

  “Screwed because of what you started.”

  “Does that matter now? Come on, let’s get to this shipyard Sherri told me about.”

  He turned and began walking back the way Adam had come.

  “Not that way,” Adam said. “We have to go east.”

  “But isn’t Balamar this way?” Hannon asked.

  “It is, but we need some help. We have to go this way.” Adam began moving toward the bridge.

  “If you haven’t noticed, pal, but you really stirred up a hornet’s nest when you escaped from the Juireans. We can’t go that way. That’s right into the middle of the city.”

  Adam snorted, and the two men came chest to chest. “If you haven’t noticed, pal,” Adam repeated, “these aren’t Juireans mobilizing for a fight. These are people hired by your friends, not mine. The Juireans don’t hire out their kills. I have an address where we can expect to find help, and it’s this way. Are you coming or not?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Not in a million years. Now let’s go.”

  “What are you carrying?” Adam asked as the pair slipped from shadow to shadow until they were at the base of the bridge. Unfortunately, 31st Street was on the other side of the river. They would have to cross the busy bridge to get there.

  Hannon pulled a shiny object from his waistband. Adam whistled.

  “An ’88; I’m impressed. But, of course, an alien assassin like you would have the best equipment.”

  “I also have this.” He produced the Human handgun from his pocket.

  “And a Glock. How many magazines?”

  Hannon grimaced. “Just the one. I wasn’t planning on fighting off an entire city; in fact, I was supposed to be long gone by now.”

  “While leaving the rest of us to take the fall. Nice.”

  “That’s right. So, I guess Afinn betraying me is the best thing that could have happened for you and your friends. This way, you guys get off scot-free.”

  Adam waved a hand toward the people on the bridge. “That’s what you consider scot-free?”

  They stopped at the last place they could hide before exposing themselves.

  “So, how are we going to do this?” Hannon asked.

  “The only way we can,” Adam said. “We just walk across as if we belong there. There are so many alien species around here that it may take them a while to recognize us as Humans.”

  Hannon shrugged. “I don’t see where we have a choice. Lead on, Captain Cain.”

  Everyone in Kanac wore weapons out in the open, some around their waists, others across their chests; therefore, the two Humans didn’t hide theirs, either. Adam had his two MK-17s, one in each hand, while Hannon carried the Glock in his right and the MK-88 in his left. They boldly walked onto the bridge and merged with the dozen or so people already there. An increasing number of transports passed along the commuter lanes, while the pedestrian traffic stayed to the sides of the bridge.

  The Humans watched alien eyes, pods and stalks as they walked, looking for any signs of recognition. They were about a third of the way across when it happened.

  It began with a pair of purple-skinned aliens wearing nose tubes to supplement the oxygen level of L-3. Black orbs set in large seas of white suddenly grew larger and unblinking as the pair approached from the other side of the river. They had MKs on their waists, and cautious hands began to move toward them.

  Adam and Mike didn’t wait; there was no point. They lifted their energy weapons and fired.

  The dual flashes lit up the surface of the bridge, getting everyone’s attention. Some aliens ducked for cover, while others stood frozen in place, confused. But then the guns came out and greed took over. The targets were here, right in front of them.

  The Humans began running, staying to the side of the bridge and mingling with the panicked crowd. They saved their shots, letting others do the bulk of the work for them. Creatures were falling all around from friendly fire, as everyone took aim as best they could at the sprinting Humans and opened fire.

  Suddenly, it was like the 4th of July in central Kanac. Night turned into day as a volcano of activity erupted. Transports tried to veer out of the way of the streak
ing energy bolts, with one of them crashing through the side of the bridge and plunging the short distance to the river below.

  Adam and Mike were across the bridge and racing for the cover of the buildings on the other side. There was so much panic in the streets that no one knew what or who to shoot. The Humans ran in a crouch, hiding their identities the best they could while firing only when necessary. Hannon saved his Glock for later, not wanting the loud and distinctive sound of the weapon to give away their position.

  “Where’s this place we’re going?” Mike yelled as they ran.

  “Not far; about three blocks from the river.”

  At the speed Humans could run in the gravity of L-3, it only took a minute to reach 31st Street. Adam stopped, checking the addresses to see which direction to turn. Naturally, it was to the right, and even further in the opposite direction from where they would eventually have to go.

  They were in a warehouse district, with little pedestrian traffic nor people leaving their homes in search of an unknown bounty. But by the response Afinn’s offer was having, it had to be sizeable. It seemed everyone wanted in on the action.

  “Here it is!” Adam cried out. “Number 48.”

  Adam checked the door and found it was locked. But not for long. He lowered his shoulder and smashed the metal panel inward, breaking the lock. The Humans stepped into a pitch-black interior.

  “Lights,” Hannon said. “Find some lights.”

  They felt along the wall next to the broken door until they found a switch. When Mike flicked it, the men gave out audible gasps.

  “Now, this is what I’m talking about!” Hannon exclaimed.

  They were in a large warehouse, or more accurately, a department store chocked full of weapons of every imaginable make and model. They lined the walls, as well as in stacked crates filling most of the room. Adam’s heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Could some of the superweapons from Hax’on be here? He knew Dal had them, even though he couldn’t prove it. Until now.

  He raced to a stack of crates and pulled one open: Xan-fis and nothing special. He tried several more crates until near the back of the warehouse he struck paydirt.

  Adam was somewhat familiar with the rifles, having been designed to be game changers on some distant world engaged in a civil war. They had all the bells and whistles anyone would want in an assault rifle, including ungodly bolt capacity, a grenade launcher and even ballistic rounds, which was uncommon in the alien universe. They were also lightweight and with near-instant charging.

  “Bingo!” he called out. “I just found our salvation.”

  He surveyed the warehouse, looking to see where Hannon had gone.

  “I did, too,” Mike said from a dim corner of the huge room. Adam took a couple of the superweapons from the crate and went looking for the assassin.

  That’s when he saw it.

  It was about twelve feet high, made of a non-reflective black material, and with a pair of matching barrels protruding from the front.

  “It’s a fucking tank!” Hannon called out from his perch atop the vehicle.

  “Not sure what it fires, but she’s a beaut, and looks to be brand new.”

  “Far out. Here, take these.” Adam tossed the two rifles up to Hannon.

  “What are these?”

  “Just the most-advanced rifles in the galaxy, even better than anything made on Earth. One hundred shot capacity at level-2 with forty at level-1. Grenades, too; the whole kit and caboodle.”

  “The whole what?”

  “It’s a saying, obviously from before your time. I’ll get more of the rifles and meet you back here. Then we have to go. People saw us come in; they’ll be massing for an assault pretty soon.”

  Mike’s wide smile glowed in the dark corner of the warehouse. “Let ’em try.”

  21

  Two minutes later, Adam and Mike were ensconced in the small crew compartment of the tank. It was nice that they had a heavy-duty assault vehicle—if they could just figure out how to start it.

  “It has to be one of these buttons—”

  “Don’t!” Adam protested.

  A thundering explosion filled the room, blasting away the huge roll-up door and part of the outer wall.

  “You don’t know what it does,” Adam said, finishing his sentence.

  The sound from the flash cannon bolt was deafening in the enclosed warehouse. It was the first time Adam had encountered a space-rated cannon blast in an atmosphere and at such close range. It was awesome.

  “At least now we know how to fire the main gun,” Mike said through an embarrassed smile. “Okay, I have pedals, and these sticks must steer it. It’s like driving an excavator.”

  “Two to operate,” said Adam. “One drives while the other one shoots. That’s fine; I just need to find out how to aim the cannon. Let’s go; I’ll learn along the way.”

  The tank lurched forward on heavy tracks. The vehicle was designed for off-road terrain, which was just what they needed. Adam knew that if they tried to make it to Balamar along the main road, they would hit not only local resistance but Juirean as well. They would have to cut through the jungle, and they just happened to have the vehicle that could do it.

  But that wouldn’t stop the Juireans for long. Once the maneheads realized what the Humans had and where they were going, they’d bring down some of their fighters from space. The Class-3 may even launch, although it wasn’t capable of in-atmosphere operation. It would have to reach space and then drop energy bombs on them.

  There was no point in dwelling on that now. First, they had to get out of Kanac.

  The tank rumbled out onto 31st Street and turned left, going west. As predicted, people were moving in—around fifty of them. They didn’t hang around long after seeing the tank emerge from the shattered façade of the warehouse. But the incoming fire was constant, coming from roofs and alleys, as well as the numerous transports that were now careening onto the street.

  Xan-fi energy bolts skidded off the angled black surface of the tank, causing little to no damage. Then someone got ambitious and steered their car into the front of the tank, bailing out at the last minute. The big assault vehicle lurched to a stop, with the car wedged under the front, between the tracks.

  “Reverse!” Hannon yelled. “There has to be reverse in this damn thing.”

  Adam couldn’t help him look for the controls as dozens of aliens scrambled for the tank, hoping to climb aboard. He lit off two blasts from the dual cannon, sending the brilliant, starship-grade balls of energy down the street before gravity pulled them down to the dirt road. They splashed and spread out, igniting fires in the surrounding buildings and incinerating more of the attackers.

  Giving up on finding reverse, Mike steered the tank sharply to the left, allowing a track to dig into the crumpled car and travel over the wreckage and back onto the road. They were away again.

  “Turn here,” Adam instructed. “We have to cross the river.”

  Mike twisted the tank to the left and chugged down the road leading to the bridge.

  “Ah, shit,” he said, looking at the video monitor in front of him.

  Adam knew what he meant.

  Word was out about the tank, and now a dozen or so abandoned vehicles were stationed on the bridge, blocking their way. Adam lit off more cannon blasts. It worked, to a point, throwing the first row of the cars and trucks high and to the rear. Unfortunately, all it did was pile the vehicles higher on the bridge. Adam fired again, and again.

  “Be careful; we may only have a limited number of shots,” Mike cautioned.

  “The river,” Adam said. “It’s shallow here. I’m pretty sure we can make it across.”

  Mike blew out a breath. “Okay, let’s find out.”

  He steered the tank to the right and down the shallow embankment to the water. They splashed into the river, feeling the stones churning underneath. The tank fought for traction, losing some from the buoyancy of the water. They sank lower, watching the monitors as the
river climbed precariously close to the top of the tank.

  The river was deeper here than Adam thought, and he had the terrifying fear that they could become submerged in the middle of the river with a dead tank. The cameras were underwater now, but before the tank sank deeper, he saw hundreds of aliens lining the bank, flash weapons ready. If they had to swim for it, they’d be sitting ducks.

  “Damn, we’re floating!” Mike called out.

  The tank was indeed floating, drifting in the light current and beginning to turn downriver. Fortunately, the vehicle was still watertight. But the motor ran on electricity, and unless the vehicle was amphibious, something would eventually short out.

  The tank jerked as it struck something in the riverbed.

  “We’re moving again!” Mike said. “We must be on a sandbar. I’m giving it gas to see if we can make it to the other side with one big surge.”

  The engine hummed louder in the tight, closed compartment as the tank bounced along the bottom of the river, gaining purchase here, before floating again a little more downriver. Eventually, the nose angled up, and the water level fell below that of the cameras. They were on the opposite bank and digging into the mud, climbing up.

  The scene outside was chaotic, as a constant barrage of energy bolts struck the tank as it emerged from the river. The brilliant flashes caused the cameras to whiteout at times, blinding their path forward. The tank leveled out, and Adam sent another dual round of cannon fire indiscriminately ahead of them, just for effect. The crowd cleared, making way for the deadly black vehicle.

  More transports harassed them as they made their way westward toward the city’s edge and the jungle beyond. They’d been on the road for ten minutes, which was plenty of time to notify the Juireans where they were and what they had. Adam didn’t worry so much about the natives of Kanac. The maneheads were another matter. He and Hannon had to get to the cover of the jungle as fast as they could. Otherwise, they’d be sitting ducks for cannon fire from above.