by T. R. Harris
U’lac reviewed a data screen placed in the tabletop in front of him. “Yet your proposal conflicts. You state that there is a possibility the Klin may change strategy if provoked, including our use of nuclear weapons to deter their approach to target worlds. Although we have welcomed the news about the deterrent nature of these weapons, we have decided to use this approach exclusive for the protection of the thirteen worlds of the Advisory Council. The psychological impact of losing these systems would have a catastrophic effect on the rest of the galaxy. They must be protected. Yet this approach would only take effect if the Klin decide to attack select worlds, rather than the methodical nature of their current offensive. To that end we will not be using the option in defense of other systems.”
“You won’t arm the other worlds of the Expansion?”
“In your report, you said the use of such weapons on a wider scale could entice the Klin to change their plans.”
“Yeah, but to not even try….”
“Our strategists have come up with alternatives which we feel are a more sensible answer to the Klin situation. Would you care to hear them?”
Adam blinked several times. “Like duh…of course I would.”
“Endender Das, would you care to take over the briefing?” U’lac asked another creature at the table.
Das was a Criminean, a squat creature with grey skin covered in a light coating of fine fur. He came dressed in a green-colored robe that exposed his thick arms. Adam didn’t know much more about him or his kind, except that they controlled an eight-hundred-world federation within the Expansion.
“Yes, U’lac, I would welcome the opportunity.” The alien locked eyes with Adam. “We have made two conclusions. One, with the current progression of the Klin’s invasion and the thousands of worlds within the Expansion, it will take nearly twenty standard years for them to reach the first of the Council systems—including Formil. It is believed that during this interval, other options may present themselves. Among those options: The Klin may lose interest in the invasion and decide to accept their conquests as the basis for a galactic empire designed to satisfy their need for leadership and dominance. The other: During this twenty-year interval, our scientists will find an answer to the Klin’s invasion ships. Even now, thousands of the best minds in the galaxy are working on the problem.
“The next conclusion involves a more proactive response to the invasion. When we consider that the black ships of the Klin do not pose a direct threat unless fired upon, we only deem them to be delivery vessels for the real threat we face—the autonomous mechanized devices they carry.” The alien looked along the table at the faces of the other Council members. There were several nods or other gestures acknowledging agreement.
“If needed, we are proposing concerted military action against the worlds producing these mechanized devices.”
“You propose attacking the manufacturing worlds?” Adam gasped. “They’re members of the Expansion.”
“We no longer consider them as such. They have joined forces with the enemy.”
“They had no choice.”
“That matters not. They are now an integral part of the Klin invasion plan. If the means of producing these machines is eliminated, then the rest of the galaxy will be safe.”
“But you’d kill billions of innocent beings. These planets had no choice but to surrender and do the bidding of the Klin.”
“Yet you further detail in your report that the Klin may eventually exterminate these races after their factories become fully functional and self-sustaining,” countered the Criminean. “If that is correct, then these species are already scheduled for extinction. There will be no effective loss by employing our strategy. And with no machines to invade member worlds, the threat vanishes.”
“There’s an easier and less costly way,” Adam exclaimed. “Simply wipe out the remaining Klin. Then the threat goes away forever. Do you think if we stop the production of their robots that they won’t come up with another way to attack us? It’s what these bastards do. And I was told personally by one of them that they’re at war with the entire galaxy. They’re also patient sons-of-bitches. We may stop this invasion, but they’ll be back. They always come back. Unless we wipe them out at the source.”
The Council members looked at each other, coming to a silent agreement.
U’lac, the Formilian, spoke next.
“We have details of your proposal in our files. We will ask that you wait as we make our decision.”
Adam remained seated. That was it? Didn’t they want more details about his plan?
“Please step outside the meeting room,” U’lac coaxed.
Adam waited a few seconds longer before pushing back from the table and standing up. He glared at the aliens around the table—even at the Human who had remained silent throughout the brief debate. Then he stalked away and into the lobby outside the conference room.
Adam began to pace, not only out of frustration but also confusion. Would the decision come soon, or in days? Should he wait here, or return to his room?
And another thing: It had been years since he’d been treated so rudely, so dismissively; however, thinking back, Adam realized that wasn’t true. It had happened several times before and under similar circumstances. It seemed that no matter how many times you save the galaxy, the politicians in charge only think about the next election and what it will take to keep them in power. The Council wasn’t thinking long-term. Accepting that it will be twenty years before any of their homeworlds are threatened, they didn’t want to risk upsetting the Klin’s current timetable. In twenty years, all of the Council members would be gone, and the Klin would be someone else’s problem. Yet with the omnipresent threat hanging over the galaxy, these thirteen beings could rule the galaxy for years, citing the welfare of the masses as justification for their actions.
The door to the conference room opened, and Ashton Hill walked out. Adam raced up to him.
“What the hell was that all about?” he barked at the other Human. “Why didn’t you speak up? Are you going to let them exterminate billions of creatures, or worse, just sit on their hands while the Klin conquer thousands of worlds?”
“It’s not as simple as that, Mr. Cain.”
“Bullshit. It is that simple. They’re giving in to the Klin to protect their precious positions, yours included.”
Hill’s dark eyes bore into Adam’s. “Fuck you, Cain! You think just because you’re famous you can do what you damn well please. You’re wrong. You’ve spent years following your own lead without regard to anyone else. Yeah, you’ve gotten lucky a few times, but people like me and the other members of the Council have more responsibility than you can possibly imagine. We make decisions based on everyone’s welfare, not just a select few.”
“Like selfishly saving your own worlds while letting the rest of the galaxy fall to the Klin?”
“That’s not going to happen. As we see it, we have time for a more nuanced response to the Klin. There’s no need to rush into something that could piss off the Klin.”
“The Klin are our enemy; they’re already pissed off at us if you hadn’t noticed.”
“And we want to make sure they don’t get even more pissed off,” Hill yelled.
“So, what am I supposed to do now, while you and your spineless wonders work on your nuanced response?”
Hill’s face turned an even darker shade of red.
“For your information, hotshot, we’ve approved your mission—but to a point. You’re to find the Klin, but do not engage. I repeat: Do not engage.”
“And if we’re attacked?”
“Then run as fast as you can. The Juireans have agreed to let you keep the ET vessel. That should help.”
“I need my whole team. They won’t all fit in the ET. And we need a non-military vessel, one that won’t attract too much attention.”
“Then get a ship from general assignment. I give you permission.”
“Gee, thanks. It’s good t
o see we’re still on the same side.”
“You arrogant son-of-bitch,” Hill growled. “It’s either your way or no way, is that it? What makes you think you’re so much smarter than the rest of us?”
Adam could think of a small colony of mutant brain cells in his head for starters. But he kept that information to himself.
“Fine, I get it. Just find the Klin and report back to Formil. Aye aye, sir.”
Adam gave Hill a cock-eyed salute and then turned on his heel and left.
Even though he had the go-ahead for his mission, there was more to the diplomat’s acceptance of Adam’s mission than he admitted. Adam had hinted in his report that the starting point for the search could very well be a trap. Hill hadn’t mentioned that. If Adam and his people were captured, it would be foolish to count on any help from the Expansion, or even the Union for that matter. Their demise would fit nicely into Hill’s plans. They would no longer be around to interfere with the Council’s plans.
Of course, Adam wasn’t in the business of making life easier for those who pissed him off. In fact, he often went out of his way to be the thorn-in-the-side of anyone who made him mad. And at the moment, Adam Cain was as mad as a hornet.
4
He conveyed the news to the team by way of his ATD and then had to listen to several minutes of bitching and moaning in his mind from multiple sources. Even Copernicus chimed in, evidently having mastered the rudimentary skill of telepathic communication using his ATD.
Next, he took the elevator to the ground floor of the huge government building and caught a transport to the far side of the commercial spaceport on the south end of the Temple Complex. This was where the office for general assignment transports was located. The building was old and in ill-repair, just the type of place you’d expect to find a disgruntled bureaucrat ready to take out her frustrations on anyone who approached the counter. It was Adam’s turn in the barrel.
“I’m Adam Cain. I’m here to requisition a long-range starship.”
The female alien on the other side of the counter was impossibly slender with near-translucent skin, making it appear bluish under the harsh overhead lighting. She was old, Adam guessed, based on the abundance of wrinkles on her face. Of course, this could be how all the members of her species looked. He’d never seen her kind before.
“I have no ships to requisition,” the alien declared. “All are being used for system defense or evacuation purposes on other planets. Come back in six days; I might have something then.”
“I can’t wait six days. Don’t you have anything at all?”
“What ships I do have in inventory are already reserved.”
“But I’m Adam Cain. Surely you’ve heard of me. This is important.”
“I have heard the name, although I suspect you are not him.”
Adam’s jaw fell open. “Why not?”
“The alien is much bigger than you.”
Adam had run across this before. It seemed that the larger the legend, the larger the creature had to be.
“But I am Adam Cain. The mission I’m about to embark on is of the utmost importance, involving the security of the entire galaxy. Is there no way you can bump one of the reserved vessels and give it to me?”
“No,” the female snapped. Her tone said it all. There would be no bumping taking place today.
“Yet…,” the clerk began, “there are several vessels in storage at the Solic-Min moon.”
“What’s that?”
“It is the primary moon of the planet Andos within the system; the gas giant.”
“Yes, I know the planet Andos. But what is this storage facility?”
“It is not a facility, but a cluster of old and derelict vessels in orbit. They are used primarily as a source of spare parts. I will call up the inventory.”
A viewable monitor came to life on the wall next to Adam, and he watched as the pictures and data on dozens of ships scrolled by. The clerk was right. These vessels were nothing more than scrap, lingering in orbit above a large, ice-covered moon. Adam had to laugh; this would have been mechanic-porn for Kaylor and Jym. They made their living culling together derelict starships and making them operational again. So did Copernicus Smith.
“Stop!” Adam said as a ship scrolled by. The clerk reversed the feed, stopping at the indicated vessel.
It was a large freighter, easily five hundred feet long and with two huge humps along the aft section of the hull housing the gravity generators. It wasn’t pretty, but it would provide the perfect cover for his operation.
The skinny alien read the survey report. “Only one of the NX-41 generators is operational. The vessel has been certified air-tight, with basic electronics intact. Transponder registered to the Morlain Confederation—expired. You must know that moving a vessel that big on one generator would be extremely slow. Yet looking at your options, you do not have many with more potential.”
“I’ll take her,” Adam said. “Can you provide me with updated registration?”
“I can. The fee is nine hundred Juirean credits.”
“But this is an official government-sanctioned mission.”
“And I represent the government. The fee must be paid before you will be allowed to move the vessel.”
Adam was sure the sour look he gave the bureaucrat was lost in translation. But at least he had a ship.
Fortunately, the trip from Formil to the moon Solic-Min only took less than an hour in the Juirean ET starship. Unfortunately, all seven members of the team had to squeeze into the small crew pod designed for only two. Luckily, the two creatures for which it was designed were the seven-foot-tall Juireans, which helped a little.
Adam made a slow loop around the derelict starship as most of the team pressed their faces against the round viewing canopy to get a look. Arieel could care less, but the rest of the team gawked at the vessel with emotions ranging from disappointment to excitement.
Starships don’t rust in space, but since the freighter was designed for surface landings, it was obvious that at some time in the past, this one had spent a lot of time planetside and exposed to the elements. It was almost a uniform ruddy orange in color, with some sections having been completely eaten away. The clerk had also said the ship was airtight. Obviously, she meant that sections of the ship were air-tight because it was evident most of the freighter was open to the vacuum of space.
From the survey, Adam knew there were two small landing bays at the stern, with a large cargo bay between them. Along the hull going forward were eight smaller cargo holds, four to a side, with dedicated airlocks for each. Three of the outer pressure doors on these cargo bays were missing.
Adam steered the ET toward the forward section and hovered above the bridge, focusing a spotlight through the large, three-sided viewport. There was no power on, and all he could see was the uniform grey of the cold interior.
“You said NX-41’s?” Jym asked, breaking the silence.
“Uh-huh, but only one’s working.”
“Forty-ones are the most-common generators for a ship this size. We should be able to find another one within the shipyard.”
“On the surface, they require heavy machinery to move,” Copernicus added. “But in space, a small turbo-tractor should do. Freighters like this should have several tractors onboard.”
“If they have not already been scavenged,” Kaylor said.
“We’ll see,” Coop offered. “But as Jym said, there should be a few 41’s nearby. They’re not the type of generator you can use in a standard starship. They’re too big and bulky.”
“I’m glad you guys are enthusiastic about the challenges we face,” Adam said with humor in his voice. “Just remember, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“Then get us inside,” Coop said. “We’re anxious to get to work. Besides…I think someone just farted.”
5
Adam had already scanned the freighter with his ATD. The ship was as dead as a graveyard, so before anything could be done,
the batteries needed recharging.
The ET had a small, one-person airlock in the back, and Kaylor dressed in a spacesuit and squeezed his way out the exit hatch. He attached a power cable to a receptacle on the skin of the ET and then glided weightless to the access hatch at the rear of the huge ship. Using tools he carried with him, he manually cranked open the hatch and entered the airlock. Since there was no air inside, he cycled the next door open and entered one of the dual docking bays for the freighter.
Using the magnetics in his boots, he lumbered across the deck until he came to a power module hookup and plugged in the cable. He hovered in place as the batteries began to charge. It would take an hour to get enough juice to open the docking bay door so the ET could be brought inside. After that, more systems would begin to come online until the one working generator could be jump-started, providing a surge of electricity throughout the derelict ship.
Three hours later, Adam exited the ET, which was now magnetically secured to the deck of the landing bay. All the team members would wear environment suits until they could assess the integrity of the various compartments. They fanned out, now able to use their ATDs to track power coursing throughout the vessel. Another two hours passed before they met up on the bridge, which was now pressurized and filled with stale smelling air.
Adam removed his helmet. The others followed suit.
“Okay, we have a lot of work to do and very little time. Coop?”
“There are four turbo-tractors aboard—each needing recharging—but they look to be operational. Kaylor and I will take a couple out once they’re charged and look for another NX-41 generator. Jym will be working on getting the other one operational to the point where we can have localized gravity aboard. We don’t want to engage all the internals until we get the beast-of-a-generator locked into place.”
“Good,” Adam replied. “Riyad and Sherri, I need you to do an interior survey of the hull integrity. Identify secure compartments and flag those that aren’t. Arieel and I will work on getting the bridge systems up and running, including diagnostics. I want to be on our way in three days, at the max.”