by T. R. Harris
“And where are your other colleagues at this moment?” The Klin directed this question at Sherri.
“Hell if I know. Probably back on Formil, trying to figure out a way to kill you…all of you.”
Riyad! Adam called out in mind.
Here.
I need you to get on a CW link with Formil and have someone create a fake news broadcast about you meeting with Arieel today in the O’lac Building.
Eh, why?
The Klin aren’t taking us anywhere until they’re sure you’re not following us. They don’t believe it’s just Sherri and me out here.
Got it; give me a minute.
Adam turned his attention back to the Klin. He and Sherri were huddled together in the small landing bay aboard a Klin KFV-A, a small, circular-shaped attack vessel Adam hadn’t seen in over a decade. He didn’t know they still used them. However, this particular clan of Klin was the last of their kind; they were probably down to their last reserves—or had been until this new offensive began. Then, according to Senior Fellow Cannis—the sole Klin aboard the huge black ship he’d been taken aboard—the aliens cannibalized some of their Colony Ships to make the first black starship, along with an army of robots. After that, they enlisted the help of an unsuspecting race as their new partners in crime, promising them co-leadership of the galaxy in exchange for the planet’s manufacturing might. Those were the Andahareans, or whatever they called themselves. But then in typical Klin fashion, once the factories were pumping out tens of thousands of killer robots a day, the machines turned on their makers.
Riyad came back into his mind.
Arieel just sent a link to Formil. We rigged a little welcoming ceremony in the captain’s quarters; just a brief grip-and-grin. Hopefully, it will add a little visual realism to things.
Good thinking. Let me know when it hits.
Unfortunately, the news broadcast wasn’t the only thing hitting that day.
Adam watched with curiosity when the lead Klin placed a metal glove over his right hand and forearm. He wore a thin grin on his face as he stepped up to the Humans. “Your reputation is well known within the Klin, Adam Cain. For your knowledge, I was aboard the colony vessel that you used to travel to the Sol-Kor universe and back. I knew well some of my kind you killed that day.”
Adam eyed the metal glove. “Your Pleabaen will be pissed if you harm his prize captive.”
“If you ever receive an invitation to meet my leader, perhaps. Yet I have been instructed not to bring you near until the locations of your colleagues have been revealed. Yet, in the interim….”
The alien pulled back his glove-shrouded hand and laid a heavy blow to the side of Sherri’s head, catching both her and Adam off guard. Her head wobbled, and her eyes crossed, while a trickle of blood drained from her nose.
Anger swelled within Adam, and he flexed his mutant-enhanced muscles in preparation for an attack.
No! Don’t. Sherri said in his mind. I’m all right. Just surprised.
Tell that to your bleeding nose.
Sherri wiped the blood away, before staring the Klin in the eyes and licking the red liquid off the side of her hand. “Thank you, sir. May I have another?”
Veins in the Klin’s neck pulsed, and he pulled his arm back again to grant Sherri her wish.
“Stop!” Adam yelled. “Check with your contacts on Formil. I’m sure you have them. See if Riyad and the others are there. It shouldn’t be too hard to do.”
The Klin eyed Adam with unbridled hatred, but he held back from delivering another hit to Sherri’s head. “I will do that, yet I will not spend much time in verifying what you say.” He then looked at Sherri and her still bleeding nose. “Savages barely evolved. I would not be faulted for killing you both, as you attempt to escape.”
“We’re not trying to…oh, yeah,” Adam remarked. “That would work.”
The Klin commander left the shuttle bay but returned an hour later, a disgruntled look on his face. A few minutes before, Adam had felt the gravity generators kick in. The ship was moving somewhere, hopefully to the hiding place of the remaining Klin.
“I still have my suspicions,” said the Klin, “however, it has been verified that Riyad Tarazi is on Formil. Our data shows that you seldom travel without him. As a result, I have been ordered to take you to bring you forth. You will stay here in the shuttle bay. Sustenance will be provided. We have extensive data on the nutritional requirements of Humans. Unfortunately, the food will not kill you.” The alien appeared agitated, and before he left, he leaned in closer to the Humans. “I do not understand why I am not allowed to dispose of you now? It would be simpler—and safer—in my opinion.”
“You can’t deprive your superiors of their simple pleasures,” Adam replied. “Now be nice to us, otherwise, I will complain to the management about your poor customer service.”
The alien didn’t use the metal glove this time to strike Adam across the face. It was humorous, however, to watch the normally non-violent Klin hold his hand in pain afterward. Adam didn’t react to the hit; instead he gave the commander a full-toothed grin. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”
The frustrated and hurt alien growled at Adam, another atypical Klin reaction.
Riyad, we’re on our way. Stay close.
We’ll try, came the mental reply. But without the ghost program in the ET, your signal is kinda weak. Arieel’s doing her best to keep a line on you. We may have to move in a little closer.
It’s your call. Just be careful. The Klin commander is already suspicious.
12
Adam’s mutant brain cells kept pretty good track of the time it took to reach their destination. It came in at just under five days, which was a long time to hang out in the KFV-A’s landing bay, sleeping on stacks of thin blankets, eating the most basic of Human-compatible food, and having to be escorted to the single grooming station aboard the ship every time they had to go to the bathroom.
Most conversations took place by way of their ATDs since there was a good chance the room was bugged. They spent most of the time probing the controls of the Klin starship, identifying relays and chokepoints just in case they had to take over. The ship carried a crew of twenty-five, of which half were the once-ubiquitous Jakreans.
The four-foot-tall gray aliens, with the pear-shaped heads and huge black eyes, were the thing of science fiction novels and hundreds of alien abduction stories. That was probably because the Klin used them back in the early days to help build a Human army to fight the Juireans. The tiny creatures could tolerate the gravity of Earth better than their masters and they were obedient and loyal to a fault. In fact, it was probably a Jakrean who placed a stun bolt in Adam’s back the night he’d been kidnapped.
Since the debacle that was to become the Klin’s attempt to use Humans in their proxy war with the Juireans, Jakreans had fallen out of favor with the Klin. The Kracori couldn’t stand the whiny little creatures and refused to have them on their ships. And when the need for Human abductees waned, the Klin stopped using them altogether.
Until now, Adam reasoned it was because of the reduced population of the Klin. There had once been more of them, but after the battle of the Dysion Void—where five Colony Ships were destroyed making their faithful escape through a barrier of stellar debris, they had more need for the semi-intelligent creatures to do their basic chores.
The Klin robots—the AN-9s—weren’t designed for everyday tasks. They were killers, first and foremost. So, the presence of the gray aliens made sense.
It also meant Adam could take down the entire crew in a matter of minutes if need be.
Fortunately, everyone behaved themselves, and the alien spacecraft made a landing on a planet with standard Juirean gravity. Sherri and Adam remained locked in the landing bay, unable to view the new home of the Klin.
According to estimates, there were five or six remaining Colony Ships. The populations of the two sacrificed to build the first black ship and the initial AN-9s had to
be relocated somewhere; they wouldn’t all fit on the remaining CSs. Adam was anxious to learn the location of the planet. Traditionally, the Klin never ventured far from each other, meaning the surviving Colony Ships were probably in the system somewhere. That would make them easy targets for a fleet of either Expansion or Human warships—preferably both. One massive and decisive strike would be all it would take to end this current threat to the galaxy.
And the sooner, the better, Adam thought. He was in need of a very long vacation.
The pair were taken to a large room with rock walls and of a design not typically found with the Klin. The furniture, the arched ceilings, the thick, musty smell of the air, all spoke of an ancient structure which the Klin more-than-likely appropriated from the natives upon their arrival.
There were four smallish beds, and Sherri crashed on one of them and was asleep a few moments later. Adam wandered the interior for a few minutes longer, noticing the mechanical lock on the door and not an electronic version. A precaution against his ATD, or just the native’s standard method of securing a room?
He fell back on another of the beds and closed his eyes. His ATD was active and monitoring the situation, his mutant brain cells linked to it on an unconventional level. He felt secure knowing his subconscious would alert him to any intrusions. So, he closed his eyes and slept.
He and Sherri were in the belly of the beast, thousands of light-years from allied territory, and with only a handful of friends for backup. From here on out, things were going to get exciting.
13
The Klin have an air about them, a smug superiority undeserved in light of their four thousand years of running from their own shadow. So, when Adam and Sherri were told they were to meet another creature—their escort made it obvious this was not a Klin—the alien treated the news as if this entity was nothing more than an underling assigned cleaning duties for the captives.
Appearing annoyed with the task of leading the prisoners to a new meeting room, the Klin ambled along the corridor at a snail’s pace, in no hurry to reach his destination. The two native guards behind them were more engaged, more alert, their black eyes locked on the pair of Humans, weapons gripped in hairy hands, ready if needed. The natives were called V’casin and were six feet of thick muscles and furry bodies. Even without seeing the exterior of their mountain fortress prison, Adam sensed the high elevation and the sub-zero outside temperature. The natives were built for such a climate, Humans and Klin were not.
Adam and Sherri had displayed no signs of resistance prior to this, but the V’casin seemed aware of the Human race and the reputation surrounding them. The Klin could be complacent, but not the natives. The rumors may be true.
Their Klin escort opened a double-door entry and stepped through the portal. Adam and Sherri followed, before letting out audible gasps at what they found inside. It was a huge room, carved out of the side of the mountain, with an opening to the outside a hundred feet across by as many high. Beyond was the spectacular expanse of a towering mountain range, with most peaks twice as high as their current elevation. All were coated in a thick blanket of snow, with several of the higher tops ringed with impressive clouds of gray and white. The brilliant blue of the sky contrasted sharply with the evenness of the snow.
There didn’t appear to be anything covering the vast opening, yet the temperature within the room was warm and welcoming. Then Adam noticed a faint shimmer ripple across the outside scene. For a moment, he thought it was a projection—a picture of remarkable clarity. But then he noticed more wrinkles across the opening. It was a force field, similar to a diffusion shield, but one designed to keep out the weather rather than energy bolts. Seeing that they were in a Klin stronghold, the presence of unknown technology was to be expected.
Ringing the room were a dozen or more flaming torches held in metal sconces attached to the walls, whose dancing light reflected off gold-inlaid symbols cut in the smooth stone floor. There was a huge central ornament hanging from the ceiling, made of crescents of gold and silver metal forming a huge hollow ball.
Music played as well; melodic swirling notes punctuated by the periodic punch of deep drums.
The room had a medieval—if not Druid—look to it. Sherri and Adam shared a look. They didn’t know whether or not to take it seriously. This wasn’t typical Klin interior decorating.
“Wait here,” the Klin snorted impatiently before he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. The V’casin guards went with him.
Overcoming the awe of the incredible view outside—along with the careful stagecraft—the Humans surveyed the rest of the huge room. It was sparsely furnished with only a raised platform to the left made from a smooth slab of granite. A sacrificial alter, Adam wondered. It would fit the décor. To the right was a secondary entryway. It was a wide arched portal thirty feet high and twenty wide, covered by double doors with metal bands riveted both vertically and horizontally in the dark, bark-like wood.
The room had a musty smell, but also the tell-tale trace of circulated heat from a hidden ventilation system. The room wasn’t without modern amenities, no matter how much someone wanted them to believe so.
Fortunately, the Humans didn’t have to wait long before the show began….
The double doors to the arched portal opened slowly inward. A pair of V’casin natives, dressed in black leather uniforms laced with metal supports, pushed the doors open until they were pressed against the stone wall of the chamber. A progression of torch-carrying natives followed, quiet and stern-faced, even as the subtle music in the room sounded a little louder. Next came the Grand Master, in a shrouded carriage supported on two long poles, carried along by eight natives, these dressed in red robes. A trailing force of eight more torch carrying V’casin closed out the procession.
If this was meant to impress the Humans, it failed miserably. Sherri and Adam shook their heads and struggled to keep from laughing. It was so over the top, like something out of a bad B-movie from the ’50s, and definitely not of Klin design.
The carriage was lowered a few inches until its bunting-covered base sat on the floor. A native brought up a short three-step ladder and attached it to the side of the carriage. He then stepped up and separated the white shroud, allowing the figure inside to emerge.
He came forth, covered in a shimmering golden robe and cape, wearing a red and black painted mask depicting a generic male face with narrow eye slits and an equally narrow cut for the mouth. In his right hand he held a seven-foot-long golden scepter with a red-crystal headstone. The creature began to make his way down the steps.
When he reached the floor, he stood to his full eight-foot height, dominating the much smaller, fur-covered natives.
Adam frowned; it all seemed so…hokey. He’d been traipsing around the galaxy for over twenty years, and he’d never seen such a show of gaudy extravagance—and especially not for the intimidation—or enjoyment—of him and Sherri.
Sherri couldn’t hold it any longer. She burst out laughing, and not just a single snicker, but a prolonged, bend-at-the-waist, tear-producing chortle. Adam was more restrained, but not much.
The huge masked figure stood straight-backed for a moment…before leaning on the scepter and grabbing his stomach with his free left hand. A deep-throated cackle came from the other side of the mask, which didn’t stop until he was also doubled over with laughter.
“Damn you, Sherri Valentine. You ruined the whole thing!”
The towering figure bent over more and unfastened straps on his shoes. Then he stepped to the floor, coming in now at a respectable six feet in height. Adam wasn’t surprised when the figure took his left hand and removed the mask, revealing the flushed and tear-streaked face of a Human male.
“Sorry for the dramatics,” said the smiling face. “I couldn’t resist.”
The man looked to be about thirty, with broad shoulders, bright blue eyes and blond hair. The shock came not from the fact that he was a Human, but because he looked a lot lik
e Adam Cain….
“Was that really necessary?” Adam asked, impatience—and a slight warble—in his voice.
The man waved a hand at his V'casin entourage. “Leave us now. Shoo!”
When the aliens stood looking confused, the man bellowed, “Go!”
The natives scurried from the chamber.
The man reached over and lifted the bunting covering the base of his carriage, revealing a metal box underneath. “See, they weren’t even carrying me; it’s on wheels.”
“Who the hell are you?” Sherri asked, having recovered from her laughing spell.
“Robert’s the name. Welcome, Ms. Valentine, and of course, the infamous Adam Cain. You don’t know how thrilled I am to have you here.”
“So, what was the show all about?” Adam asked. They were still on an alien ice-world, surrounded by Klin. He wasn’t about to drop his guard…not even for a good-natured Human.
“I’ve always wanted to make a grand entrance. Having the two of you here gave me the opportunity. I have to say, I had a hell of a time finding something that looked like a scepter. A little too much?”
“Are you a prisoner…or a traitor?” Sherri asked, upset now with the man’s lack of seriousness.
Robert laughed. “Right to the point, I see, Ms. Valentine. I suppose you would call me a traitor, although that would imply I was once on the side of my blood-relatives. I assure you that was never the case.”
“You’re a 2G,” Adam stated flatly, fairly confident in his conclusion.
“Bingo, Mister Cain. You win a cookie. As you see, there are still a few of us around, mucking up the works.”
“That’s Captain Cain to you.”
Adam noticed the faint British accent and cringed. It couldn’t be….
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to insult you, only dazzle you a little with my brilliance.”
“You don’t talk like any 2G I’ve ever met.” Adam pointed out. He glanced around at the huge chamber. “And you seem to be in some position of power. Is that right?”