by T. R. Harris
“Rank does have its privileges! And you’re right. I’m not your typical Second-Generation Human, born and bred to follow the indoctrination of the nasty-ass Klin. I received a slightly different course of instruction, and from a very unusual source.”
“Nigel McCarthy.”
The man called Robert staggered back a step. “I am truly impressed with your powers of deduction, Mist…Captain Cain. Bravo.” The man stepped closer. “You have just muttered the name of my illustrious father, a name I’ve not heard in a long, long time. And now you’re probably thinking, what a small galaxy this is, and how the son of Nigel McCarthy intends to have his revenge on the man who took his father’s life?”
“Your father was an asshole.”
Robert’s blue eyes grew wide. “You are…correct! He was a royal arse, as he would say. I’m glad he’s gone; you did me a favor.”
Adam shook his head. “Okay…I give up. This is a strange coincidence, but I get the feeling this isn’t a coincidence at all.”
“Some is, some isn’t,” answered Robert McCarthy. “The story is fascinating, but one for another time. Let me first get out of this silly outfit. We’ll meet in my actual chambers in a few minutes, where we can share a brew, and get to know each other. Needless to say, it’s been a while since I chatted with a fellow Human or was in the company of such a ravishingly beautiful female where my desires are considered normal and not a form of bestiality.”
“Keep wishing, dickhead.”
“I can admire you from afar, can I not Ms. Valentine? No harm in that.”
Sherri considered the handsome young man for a moment before responding. “I guess not. Whatever turns you on.”
The glint in the man’s eye answered the rhetorical question beyond the shadow of a doubt.
Robert McCarthy left through the side portal, leaving Adam and Sherri alone in the center of the huge room, bathed in flickering torchlight, wondering what to do next. They walked over to the hundred-foot-high opening and stared out at the stark mountain peaks, which were in the process of being overtaken by the shadows of the coming night.
Out of curiosity, Adam reached out a hand to touch the force field. To his surprise, his hand passed through the thin barrier with only a slight electric tingle. His hand felt the bitter cold on the other side.
“Well, that’s pretty neat,” he said, impressed
Sherri did him one better. She stepped completely through the barrier before quickly returning. “Burr!”
“That thing could have been one-way only; you could have been stuck out there.”
“What can I say: I live life on the edge.”
14
A few moments later, a burly V’casin came to fetch them.
They were led through the side portal and down a long corridor, which was occasionally broken on the left side by traditional plate-glass windows revealing the stunning view outside. They came to a door on the right and were directed to enter.
If unexpected was the word-of-the-day, it certainly applied here.
They were in a living room designed to be a throwback to 1950’s American suburbia, complete with a low-slung lime-green couch and two matching chairs, each with thin, highly-lacquered wood arms. There was also a shiny-top coffee table curved like a leaf, and stone block walls where a narrow teakwood credenza sat. All that was missing was the RCA box TV with its 21-inch black-and-white screen.
The far end of the room opened to the kitchen, which was even more of a shock. The counters were made of individual two-inch-square pale-yellow tiles and edged with mirror-reflective metal bands. The appliances were a classic General Electric stove and oven, and a smallish refrigerator with bands of red-painted metal. There was even a figurine sitting on the counter of a pot-bellied Italian chef holding a wooden stirring spoon.
Ritchie Cunningham would have felt right at home here.
Adam opened the refrigerator; it was empty.
“What do you think?” asked Robert McCarthy from behind his guests.
“Are you trapped in a time-warp of some kind?” Sherri asked, not trying to hide her disgust for their host’s taste in interior decorating.
“Not a time-warp, but a celebration of a different time back on distant Earth.”
“And how would you know, you’ve never been there?” It was Adam’s turn to wrinkle his nose at the obviously staged room.
“Yes, but I have studied it extensively. At the time this was popular, your America was going through a period of forward-thinking, trying out new designs and ways of doing things. Don’t you like it?”
“It’s the gaudiest damn thing I’ve ever seen,” Sherri stated with certainty.
Robert was hurt. “It took me considerable time and effort to collect all this history. I find it grounding in a way. I may not be an Earth-Human, but these are things created by my ancestors at a time before they knew the outside universe existed—or at least knew it for sure. Too often, we get lost in all the strange—all the alienness—around us.”
“You are a strange one, Robert McCarthy,” Adam announced.
The smile ran away from Robert’s face. “I would appreciate it if you would not refer to me by that name.”
“Why not? He was your father.”
Robert motioned for them to join him in the living room. A moment later, a V’casin native—looking even more alien within the odd setting—came in with a tray of light intoxicants, placing the glasses on coasters on the armrests of the uncomfortable chairs. The cushions were hard and the backs too straight. Adam wondered how this style of furniture ever became popular in the first place….
“Let me explain more about the relationship between my late father and me,” the man began in earnest. “Nigel McCarthy was the senior Human within the Klin system. He was in charge of not only the abductees—the two of you included—but also the budding Second-Generation population. You remember, at the time, the Klin were breeding an army of 2G Humans to go up against the Juireans. As such, females were commanded to engage in acts of procreation continuously. To refuse could lead to extermination. As a fervent supporter of the Klin plan, my dear old dad did his part for the cause, fathering well over one hundred fifty offspring. To say he took advantage of his position would be an understatement. That is why the fact that I am his son has little meaning. He had lots of sons.”
The man took a sip of his drink before the smile returned to his face. “Yet I was one of his first. In the early days, Nigel still believed the Klin were going to honor their promise to award Earth to him as payment for his assistance. To that end, he took some of his first-born sons and began training us to be a sort of bodyguard regiment—a group of men who would have blood-loyalty to him when the time came. Or at least that’s what he thought. He believed most Humans wouldn’t take too kindly to having a new King forced upon them. On that account, he was probably right. Anyway, we were given advanced training regarding Earth and her history and taught to be more Human than the other 2Gs, including lessons in military tactics and strategy. Then when my father learned of the impending betrayal by the Klin in favor of their true allies, the Kracori, everything fell apart. This, I might add, was about the time he met you, Captain Cain. My brothers and I were tossed aside by loveable daddy-dearest and left to our own means. It saddens me to report, but I am the last of my lineage existing within Klin society.”
“Why you? How did you survive so long?” Sherri asked.
“Good question, my dear.” Robert took a moment to openly look Sherri up and down before continuing. “It all came down to imagination.”
“What do you mean?” Adam asked.
“Imagination,” Robert repeated. “I have it; the Klin don’t.”
He drained his drink and slapped the glass down on the coffee table. Then he leaned back on the couch and crossed his legs. “Have you ever wondered why the illustrious Klin, masters of technological advancement throughout the galaxy, were never able to achieve their goal of dominance over less-advanced specie
s? I spent a lot of time thinking about this before finding the answer. They lack imagination. Sure, show them that something is possible and damn, they’re on it like stink on shit, white on rice—how I love the way you speak! Can you imagine what a bore it’s been to spend all these years with the monotone speaking Klin? It’s enough to drive a person crazy—”
“Would you mind,” Adam prompted. “You were talking about the Klin’s lack of imagination.”
Robert frowned. “Patience, my friend. It’s not like you have someplace else to be.”
McCarthy smiled again, a spontaneous, almost manic look in his eyes.
“You ask how I survived, Ms. Valentine. Simple. I became the Klin’s imagination. Of course, they didn’t realize it at the time. They still haven’t. They just thought I was especially helpful, always coming up with new ideas as to how they could further their cause. Case-in-point: the most recent offensive on the part of the Klin.”
“That was your idea?” Adam asked.
“It surely wasn’t theirs. Since time immemorial, the silver-skinned slugs have been singularly focused on needing a partner race for their scheming. They’ve always had this inferiority complex based on their low numbers. It’s kind of outrageous to dream of galactic domination when there’s only a couple of hundred thousand of you around. Hell, that’s barely enough to manage a good-size city, let alone a whole galaxy.”
“The robots were your idea?” Adam stated.
“Of course, they were, but even then, the Klin tried to screw it up. They wanted androids, intelligent robots who could take their place in positions of power and responsibility. I told them that was a bad idea. You make the robots too smart, and pretty soon they’re looking to take over. Keep them dumb and obedient; that’s what I said. If later on you still need another class of robot to help out around the house, make them then, but in limited number, and under the watchful eye of your brainless killer bots.” Robert slapped his knee. “And you know the greatest thing about working with the Klin: all you have do is come up with an idea and those silly bastards can figure out a way to make it happen. I gave them a list of must-haves for the robots, and they went out and built them.”
Adam opened his mouth to ask another question, but Robert held up his hand. “You’re going to ask about the VN-91s, aren’t you?”
“The what?” Sherri asked.
“The large carrier ships. You refer to them as the black ships. Oh, what a scary name.” He spread his fingers wide and made them wiggle. “Let me back up. As I said, Nigel trained a small group of his sons in a lot of things, but the only subject I found truly interesting was the military training. He taught us two very important lessons, both related: Know your enemy and always be prepared. Knowing one’s enemy allows the second lesson to come into play. If you know your enemy well enough, then you can anticipate all they can throw at you. And for that, I thank you, Mr. Cain.”
“Me? What the hell do I have to do with this?”
“Needless to say, my father was obsessed with you. He’d talk about you all the time during our lessons, using you as an example of what could go wrong if you underestimate your enemy. So, when everything went to shit, I started studying you, tracing the factors that resulted in the Juireans, the Klin and the Kracori all suffering catastrophic losses, while the primitive Humans rose to the top of the food chain. It was very educational. But the main lesson I learned is to always identify the threat…and then devise counters to it. For instance, the brain link you have within your body—yes, I know about that.”
Adam tensed. The man may know of his ATD, but he couldn’t know about the rest of it. In addition, he made no mention of Sherri in his revelation.
Robert twisted his body around and placed a finger on a small, elongated lump on the back of his neck. “You see, I have one, too.”
Adam mentally grimaced. He figured he had the upper hand against the talkative 2G, but now he wasn’t so sure. What other surprises did Robert McCarthy have in store?
“Yes, I’ve been studying you for a very long time, Adam Cain. I even had eyes on you when you first visited Formil and conned your way into getting the brain linking device. I’d long suspected that the Formilian Speakers used such technology, but it was when you upset their neat little magic show were my suspicions realized. And this is another example of the Klin’s abilities. Once I told them about the Formilian’s brain interface device, they went out and built one in a matter of weeks. Sure, mine may not be as advanced as yours, but it works.”
The lights in the room dimmed and then brightened. “The Klin—in their infinite lack of imagination—could never see a purpose for the device, other than as a very complicated and expensive remote-control switch. I tend to agree with them, especially since I haven’t had anyone to speak with telepathically since I got it. Perhaps we can sync our units so I can experience the sensation?”
“Perhaps later,” Adam said. “But as a military man, I’m more curious about the black ships—the VN-91s. They’re the truly revolutionary piece of hardware in this war. And you say it was your idea? That’s incredible.” Adam figured stroking the man’s very large ego couldn’t hurt. Besides, when his story ended, Adam had no idea what would happen next. The long line of questions was becoming Adam’s version of A Thousand and One Arabian Nights.
“Yes, it is a great story,” Robert said enthusiastically. “It goes back to the fact that there are so few Klin. They could never have a sizeable fleet of warships to match that of the galaxy, no matter what. So, I figured they had to do more with less. If they couldn’t have a fleet of ships, they needed to have invincible ships.” He laughed. “Under normal circumstances, sitting around and dreaming up what an invincible warship would look like would be an act of folly. But I have the Klin to make my dreams come true. I started with developing a ship impervious to outside attack. I made a list of all the offensive weapons that could be brought to bear and then worked on a defensive system to stop each one. This evolved into the three-tier screen system you’ve experienced. But then I looked to offensive weapons. The only truly invincible weapon is a laser, and one powerful enough to travel across millions of miles of space and penetrate any diffusion shield in existence. But these weapons are huge, and the power requirements impossible to achieve. But then it dawned on me. The limiting factor with the laser was the lack of energy to charge the system. And what did the enemy fire at you? Energy bolts! The solution seemed simple. Capture this incoming energy and use it to power the lasers. I’m not a scientist or an engineer, but I don’t need to be. I just imagine something, and voila, the Klin make it real. It’s a great system. Now the Klin have invincible ships with millions of robots ready to carry out their objective. The Klin will finally achieve their goal and all because I gave them the vision to make it so.”
“So why the slow advance? Why not go for the big worlds and leave the others alone? You don’t have to kill so many innocent creatures to conquer the galaxy.”
Robert frowned. “Is this Adam Cain I hear talking? To paraphrase…you: ‘The only good alien is a dead alien.’ I think back to the Kracori, the Sol-Kor, and now the Nuoreans. There are whole planets smoldering in your wake that was once inhabited by innocent creatures you didn’t like.”
“That was self-defense, and you know it.”
“A surrender would have achieved the same objective.”
“Every planet you’ve approached has offered to surrender,” Sherri pointed out. “But you attack them anyway. That seems more genocidal than strategic.”
“Ah, but it is strategic, Ms. Valentine,” Robert countered. “I agree with you in one respect. By now, the Expansion is ready to surrender to the Klin. But then what? The Klin are too few to rule an empire as big as a galaxy. So, do the Klin cloister away from the population for fear of assassination and revolt? Or do they slowly integrate themselves into the operations of the galaxy? Eventually, resistance would come, followed by a deadly uprising. The more ingrained the few Klin become, the harder i
t is for their robots to protect them. The only way the Klin can rule a galactic empire is to cut it down to their size. Then as the Klin population grows, so can the empire.”
“All you have to do is stop,” Adam said, frustrated. “Take what you have and leave the rest.”
Robert smirked. “And you believe that is how it would end? No, the forces opposed to the Klin will always be planning, waiting for the time to strike. Yet I agree, our current timetable for conquest has reached an anticipated juncture. I have to decide which Council planet to destroy as a response to the attack on G-nin Bor. I’m sure you heard about it, an utter failure on the part of your forces.”
“I heard about it,” Adam said. “And since it was such a lopsided victory, why do you need a response? You won.”
“Lessons must be learned, my friend. Now we have to demonstrate to the Expansion that no world is safe, not even those of the Advisory Council.”
“What are you going to do?” Sherri’s voice trembled.
“I’ve been weighing the possibilities. At first, I thought Formil would make a good object lesson, but then decided against it.” He laughed. “As the O’lac Building was being constructed, I sent an army of spies to wire the place from top to bottom.” He looked at Adam and cocked his head. “Strategic planning can only go so far. Having direct intelligence regarding attack plans and troop movements is valuable, too. That’s how we were able to anticipate some of your more recent operations. No, it can’t be Formil. I put too much time and effort setting up my network there. I did, however, consider the nine worlds of the Formilian alliance that produce the bulk of their electronic devices. But we rely on those products as much as the rest of the galaxy, utilizing an elaborate system of dummy buyers to get what we need. So those worlds are safe.”
Adam’s stomach tightened as Robert worked his way towards the inevitable.