by T. R. Harris
“What does that mean? Are we supposed to come to some conclusion from that?”
“Further explanation is needed,” said manly orb, joining in the impatience of his partner.
“Indeed.” The female globe continued. “While in the holders, both on the unit and in the transport cases, the surrounding material inhibits the spinning of the particles. Without spin, they have no charge. It’s only when they are removed from the holders do the particles acquire their valences. Only at that time do they become volatile.”
“Are you telling us the cubes are harmless if they remain in their holders?” Copernicus asked, incredulously.
“That is precisely what we are telling you.”
“What about their effect on gravity and communication links?”
“Those are harmless consequences of their state of matter. It is not dangerous.”
Adam cut to the chase. “So, we can shoot this thing into the center of a star and it won’t create a supermassive blackhole.”
“Only if the blocks are removed first. However, if they remain in the holders, they will melt, along with the accumulator. It appears your concern has been exaggerated.”
“The concern for destroying the coll—the accumulator—but not for the danger of the individual cubes,” Adam pointed out. “I still say we get rid of it.”
Everyone nodded their agreement.
“As you wish,” said the male orb, “although accumulators are easily constructed.”
“Maybe by you, but not us.”
“Would you like us to show you how?”
“No!” was the unanimous opinion of the living beings in the room.
Epilogue
It was the first snow of the season, and Adam stepped out from the warmth of the cozy log cabin to take in the crisp mountain air of the Tahoe Basin. Sherri, Copernicus and Riyad were inside, reaching the point where laughter and raised voices were required to overcome the effects of the spiced rum they were drinking. Adam was a little tipsy himself, although the freezing air and slight wind sobered him up quickly.
This was the six-month anniversary of their return to Earth after the dark matter affair. Adam had rented the cabin specifically for this occasion, even as he continued to search for a plot of land to build his new log home.
He smiled. Most of the nine hundred thousand Juirean credits were already spent. It seems the conversion rate from JCs to dollars wasn’t what it once was, and he was burning through cash faster than expected. Pretty soon he would have to return to the bounty hunting business. Maybe he just wasn’t meant to have money.
Kaylor and Jym were anxious for him to come back, too. The cost of the running the Colony Ship was eating them alive. They needed a new source of income.
The snow-white clouds parted in the clear air, revealing a patch of black sky filled with sparkling stars. Although these were only local suns, not more than a few hundred light-years away, Adam had been to a few of them. There was life around those tiny dots of light, life that in one way or another had probably pissed him off sometime over the past twenty years. He smiled at the cynical thought—although it was true. But even through his cynicism, Adam could still hear the calling of the lights. He would be returning soon; that was just his fate in life. More adventures among the stars were in store for him and his friends, of that he was sure.
He thought again about a slogan for his galactic bounty hunting business. He had the perfect one, at least in his opinion. Others may question the message it conveyed, but they couldn’t deny the truth behind it:
Adam Cain…the alien with an attitude.
The End
Part IV
The Lost Universe
An Adam Cain Adventure
The Human Chronicles Saga
Book 24
by
T.R. Harris
____
Copyright 2018 by T.R. Harris
All rights reserved, without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanically, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Adam Cain is an alien with an attitude.
His story continues…
86
This had to be the best smelling bar Adam Cain had ever visited; even the patrons and the wait staff smelled good. And the place was spotless as well, even the floor.
Adam had never been to the planet Fortis before; in fact, he’d never heard of the place until deciding to go fugitive hunting here. Now he was wrapped in the glove-like cushion of a furry bean-bag chair and sipping on what was probably the most-delicious alien drink he’d ever tasted, and all the while gazing through the appropriate dimness at his target.
He tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, being the only Human in the room. But seeing that the place was a cornucopia of exotic creatures, he didn’t stand out as much as he would in a bar full of locals. In fact, the only person paying him any attention was the sensual, silky-skinned waitress. That was fine by him. She was amazing looking, reminding Adam of one of those Asian anime characters from the graphic novels he used to read as a kid, before he could afford real porn. She had incredibly large eyes, featuring huge black orbs surrounded by a sea of white, hypnotic in their depth and intensity. Add to that a miniscule nose and a pouty, pink-lipped mouth that puckered as if in a perpetual kiss, and Adam was thoroughly enamored with the sexy native.
Now he watched as she glided up to him and bent over, placing another of the smooth, fruity drinks on the small end table next to the beanbag. Those gorgeous, intoxicating eyes lingered on him a little longer than necessary, and Adam reciprocated. He had no idea how compatible the two species were biologically, but he was almost tempted to find out—if he didn’t have more pressing matters to tend to.
The fugitive’s name was Lo’ol, and he was also seated in a beanbag chair a few stations away, along with four others of his kind. They weren’t native to the planet; they were far too ugly for that. Instead, they were Z’inifs, thick, muscular beasts with scaly skin and dual sets of fly-like eyes: two prominent multi-segmented disks resting below a pair of smaller heat-sensing ones on their foreheads. Although the eyes didn’t swivel in their sockets, the Z’inifs could rotate their heads three hundred-sixty degrees in a millisecond when surveying the surrounding landscape. Adam was thoroughly freaked out the first time he saw Lo’ol do that, nearly spitting his nectar-of-the-gods drink into the room as a consequence. He didn’t fear the strength of the aliens, but he knew it would be very hard to sneak up on them if he had to.
Lo’ol would be Adam’s largest bounty to date; one hundred thirty-five thousand Juirean credits. He had no idea what the alien did to warrant such a large reward, and he also didn’t care. He was only here for the money.
Adam hoisted the figure-eight-shaped glass and chugged half the contents. The damn concoction was great from the first sip and had only become more addictive with each successive serving. Earlier, after testing his blood for compatibility, the waitress brought a sampling of six native drinks. This one stood out head-and-shoulders above the others. Besides the heavenly taste, Adam was pretty sure it was non-alcoholic, since his mind was still sharp and his vision clear. This would come in handy when he made his move on Lo’ol. Yet once the job was done, Adam would conduct a Library search to find what the drink was called, along with its secret formula. The guys back at the Colony Ship would love this shit.
Adam became alert when Lo’ol and the others began to gather up their satchels, preparing to leave. He laid a fifty Juirean credit chip on the small side table and waited until the others left before he got up to do the same.
He didn’t get too far.
W
hen he pressed to his feet, it was as if he was a majestic redwood just felled by the legendary Paul Bunyan. He toppled forward until crashing face-first onto the sweet-smelling floor. Shocked and embarrassed, Adam struggled to his hands and knees before making a second attempt to stand. His legs were like rubber, his feet numb. He managed to stay upright this time, but only with the help of the hot alien waitress.
“Assist you, I may?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist. He gazed into her huge black orbs, confused. His mind wasn’t suffering the normal effects of intoxication, and neither was his vision. But damn, the rest of his body was literally falling down drunk…all except for a prominent lump in the front of his trousers.
“What the hell is in that stuff?” he asked with unaffected speech.
“It is a muscular neutralizer, as well as a sexual stimulant, very potent and flavorful. It is the house specialty.”
“A neutralizer—and a stimulant—at the same time? What good is that?”
“It depends on the dominance of the sexes within your species. On Fortis, females are dominant, and we wish our males to be compliant, yet functional. Are you not pleased with the effect?”
“How long will I be like this?”
The alien giggled. “You consumed much. You will need assistance in walking—and other functions—for several hours. We have a service that can return you to your room or ship. Do you wish me to call one…or I could assist you personally?”
Adam didn’t have time for this, no matter how curious he was to learn of the mating habits of the natives. He’d followed Lo’ol to the bar knowing the alien was making one last stop before returning to his ship. He would be off the planet and in a deep gravity-well in less than an hour. Adam didn’t have time to sober up…or for other things.
“I appreciate the offer, but right now, help me over to that partition,” he said, indicating a half wall with decoratively carved wooden columns reaching to the ceiling. Once there, he grabbed one of the posts and pulled. It came free, much to the chagrin and shock of the waitress.
“What is the purpose?” she asked.
“I need a crutch,” he said, looking with regret into the large eyes of the alien. If only…. “And by the way, thanks for your help.” He smiled at the pretty alien, flashing his long white teeth at her with warmth and sincerity.
The diminutive native gasped and pushed away, her impossibly large eyes increasing by fifty percent from shock and fear. In a flurry of screams and waving arms, she scurried away, in a desperate attempt to escape the savage death-challenge Adam had just issued against her.
The bar exploded in a cacophony of protests from the male patrons, including a rather profanity-laced verbal attack by the native bartender. Adam leaned on his makeshift walking stick and made for the exit. He ignored the protests. The bartender was yelling about the vandalism and the threat to the female, yet fortunately he didn’t press the matter. He may have realized by then that Adam was a Human and valued his life more than a piece of wood or the welfare of the barmaid.
It was dark outside when Adam emerged from the bar and into the cool night air of Fortis. He scanned the wide road and sidewalks for his target. There he was, to the right and about thirty yards away, heading for the spaceport a mile down the road. Adam set off after him, using the wooden crutch to support his traitorous legs. Most of the intoxicating effects were in his lower extremities. His arms and hands were working fine, although his fingertips were numb. And then there was the boner. It didn’t impede his progress, but it was embarrassing and inappropriate for the moment.
That damn drink should have come with a warning label!
Riyad, where the hell are you? Adam barked mentally through his artificial telepathy device.
Waiting with the truck, like I’m supposed to be, answered a disembodied voice in Adam’s mind. What’s taking you so long?
Lo’ol just left the bar. He’s heading for the spaceport.
Well, grab him and let’s get out of here. We don’t get paid for talking about apprehending a fugitive. Only by actually picking him up will we earn our bounty.
I don’t think I can, Adam replied. I got pretty fucked up in the bar.
There was a pause in the mental link between the two men. Adam could sense the humor in Riyad’s thoughts. Are you drunk?
Half of me is. The other half is fine.
I take it the drunk half is the half that counts?
My legs and feet, Adam thought. And my hands are beginning to show the effects. It was the devil’s drink, buddy. I wouldn’t recommend it.
No problem there; followers of my religion are not allowed to partake. Where are you now?
About twenty yards behind Lo’ol and his entourage, heading west from the bar, toward the spaceport. He’ll be there in about ten minutes.
I’m on my way. Don’t do anything until I get there. You may be the great Adam Cain, but totally wasted, you’re just like the rest of us.
Adam felt the mental contact break. His friend and associate, Riyad Tarazi, had a native truck parked on a side street nearby, waiting for Adam to grab Lo’ol. On Fortis, foreign criminals enjoyed a type of limited immunity, so kidnapping him for return to Formil was illegal on the planet. The two Humans had been counting on a quiet little abduction, no fuss, no muss. But now that Lo’ol was approaching the spaceport and within the crowd of people in the area, there would be nothing quiet—
Adam was suddenly thrown to his left, landing face down in the middle of the street, the result of a nasty blow to the side of his head. He didn’t know what hit him, except that it wasn’t a fist. It had to have been a bat or metal object of some kind. Whatever it was, it did the trick. As he struggled to find his lost crutch and regain his feet, he sensed that the hit should have hurt a lot more than it did. Apparently, the muscular neutralizer was beginning to affect other parts of his body, if not the bulge in his pants. That was still there and as strong as ever.
Adam avoided another incoming swipe of the weapon when he awkwardly fell again to the pavement, his assailant swinging widely for a head that was no longer there. Adam rolled on his back, getting the first look at his attacker. It was a Z’inif, one of Lo’ol’s posse. The alien had hidden in an alleyway waiting for him to pass before lashing out with a metal pole. Now the rest of the fugitive’s gang was running towards him, weapons at the ready.
Leave it up to their damn bug-eyes to have spotted him, Adam thought. Of course, the clacking of his walking stick on the cement sidewalk probably contributed as well. And now there were five of the scaly creatures about to pounce on him.
Just then, the blinding lights of a mid-size panel truck lit up the scene. Riyad steered the native transport at the main group of aliens; they reacted swiftly, relying on their insect-like reactions to jump out of the way. The truck hopped the curb and crashed into the window of a closed storefront. There were flashes from multiple MK bolt-launchers, but from Lo’ol’s group, not Riyad.
It was over a moment later. Riyad stepped around the back of the crumpled truck, grimacing from a smoldering hole scorched through the fabric of his shirt. The level-two bolt left a nasty second degree burn in the shape of an angry red circle within the bushy patch of black hair on his chest. Riyad was swatting away the remaining embers.
“This better grow back,” he said to the Z’inif. “The ladies really like my normally full swath of manly chest hair.”
The aliens didn’t respond. Instead, they held their weapons steady on the bearded Human, while standing a respectable distance away, fully aware of his abilities.
Riyad looked down at his invalid friend, still sitting in the middle of the street, his numb and paralyzed legs spread out in front of him.
Riyad raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m glad to see you too, my friend,” he said, glancing at the lump in Adam’s pants. “I never realized you had the hots for me, or does danger turn you on more than I realized?”
“A little of both, I guess,” Adam replied.
Lo’ol stepped up and glared down at the Human.
“The famous Adam Cain,” the alien sneered. Z’inifs had short tubes for mouths, but the universal translator could still decipher the flutters of their language. Lo’ol’s weird eyes locked onto Adam’s pants. “Re’oc Rum? Only tourists drink that…or subservient natives. You are lucky to be alive.”
“It’s debatable whether I am,” Adam moaned. His head throbbed—even through the spreading effects of the intoxicant—and his feet were beginning to burn, as if a thousand fire ants were holding a convention on his toes. “Why do they allow that stuff to be sold? It’s toxic.”
“Not to the natives.”
The tube-mouth warbled. The translator created a garbled response in Adam’s ear: a Z’inif laugh.
“And now it is I who have captured you, Adam Cain, and I will be richly rewarded by my sponsors for the effort.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Lo’ol’s mouth fluttered again. “This was all planned. It was I who inflated the bounty for my capture to entice you to come after me. I even chose a planet close to Formil on which to wait. And now you will make me wealthy.”
“And what about me?” Riyad asked. “I’m pretty famous, too.”
“Although I have heard of you, you are of no importance to me.”
Riyad beamed, learning of his widespread fame. Then his face soured. “But I’m not part of your evil plan?”
“No. The flash bolt was meant to kill. We shall have to remedy that.”
“We come as a set,” Adam said quickly. “You can’t have one without the other.”
Lo’ol’s head spun around, causing Riyad’s mouth to drop open.
“That has no sense,” the alien said after his head stopped spinning. “I can take only you without effort…unless your companion is also affiliated with the mutants? If so, I was not aware.”