by T. R. Harris
The trio made it to the elevators without incident. The building was too tall and angled to use one central lift, so this one only went to the tenth floor. They would have to transfer from there.
The elevator car began to move and continued for three floors before stopping. The door opened and six Juirean Techs crowded in. Three more eyed Sherri and her escorts and decided to wait for the next car.
Two of the Techs turned to Sherri. She bowed. They bowed back.
“What is your race?” one of the Juireans asked.
“We are Betamax,” Adam answered for her. “Our Grand Wizard is not allowed to speak in public.”
“I have never heard of the Betamax.”
“That is understandable. There are very few of us left.”
The elevator stopped. “This is our floor,” Adam said.
They stepped out and over to the next bank of elevators.
“I thought the Betamax were extinct?” said Riyad under his breath.
“Almost. We are the last of their kind.”
They entered an elevator and pressed the button for the twentieth floor. Five Juireans also stepped in. They looked at the trio, but none attempted to start a conversation.
When they stepped off at their floor, they found it to be quite different from where Sherri had been kept. There was a wide, carpeted lobby with ornate decorations and seating along the walls. A forty-foot wide corridor ran both directions from the elevators. Two Juireans Guards were to their right, so they moved in that direction.
“Inquiry…the Formilian dignitary? Where can we find her?” Adam asked.
“Three rooms beyond. She has visitors. You should wait.”
“Visitors?”
“Yes.”
“Who are they?”
“I do not know. Wait.”
“But we are expected,” Riyad said.
“We guard the Formilian. We have not been notified of additional visitors. Who are you?”
Adam looked both ways down the deserted corridor, then back at the two aliens. “Are you familiar with the term, your worst nightmare?”
“No, I am not,” said the Guard leader.
“Well that’s who we are. We are your worst nightmare.”
“I do not understand.”
“Let me explain.” Adam handed his backpack to Sherri, while Riyad set his on the floor. What followed were a pair of swift fists slammed into the alien’s chests, sending them crashing into the wall behind them. Adam followed up with an uppercut to a jutting jaw a foot above his head.
Riyad was having a little more trouble with his alien. His hit had stunned his opponent, but not enough. The Juirean, lashed out and caught the side of Riyad’s helmet, knocking him to the floor with the alien straddling him. The creature took two quick swings at Riyad’s head again, but both were blocked.
Sherri calmly withdrew an M-101 from the backpack she held and swung the stock end at the back of the alien’s head. He tumbled forward, covering Riyad in his long mane of pale green hair.
“Are you done playing around?” Adam asked Riyad.
“Just my luck I have to meet the Juirean version of Bruce Lee. Thanks, Sherri.”
Adam surveyed the hallway. There was no place to hide the bodies, except possibly behind one of the sofas along the wall. But Juireans were tall creatures. They wouldn’t fit.
“Put them on top and then roll them over. Make it look like they’re taking a nap.”
“That won’t fool anyone,” Riyad said as he dragged his unconscious victim to the nearest couch. Soon both aliens were on separate sofas and sleeping like babies. Adam even placed the thumb of his opponent in his mouth. All that was missing was the Teddy bear.
The trio moved to the third door down the corridor. They heard voices inside.
32
Master Malens ra Erron replayed the recording for the fourth time. None of it made sense.
“This is an uncontaminated file?” he asked the nervous attendant beside him.
“Yes, my Lord. A confidant of ours made the copy before the original was destroyed.”
“This is very serious, Nadnon. I wish to discuss this with the Elites.”
“And the Elder?”
“Without his knowledge.”
“My Lord?”
“You heard me. Let us gather facts before confronting Master Synnoc. Now, very quietly, have the others meet me in sub-conference six. Have them come without escort, as that would attract attention. Also have the level nine Admins attend, and only the level nines.”
“Yes, my Lord. If they question?”
“Tell them it is by order of the Vice-Elder. They may contact me personally if more detail is needed. Set the meeting for twenty minutes from now. We have no time to lose.”
The Juirean Council consisted of ninety individuals, yet only nine were considered Masters and referred to as the Elites. This was the senior cabal within the Council, the leaders, from whom the Elder was appointed. Malens ra Erron was the second-most-powerful Juirean in existence, second only to Synnoc li Qriss.
Malens—along with most others within the Council Elite—had not been born in the traditional Juirean manner. They were separate from the vast breeding farms on Salin or elsewhere. Their bloodline, and others of notable accomplishment, was nurtured and maintained. In fact, the greatest honor to be bestowed on a Juirean was to have his bloodline segregated from the rest, to join this elite group of Masters. Malens’ bloodline came from the greatest of them all, tracing his distant ancestors back to the Ra family of Malor and Oplim, the two most important Juireans to ever live. One conquered the Alliance, the other, half the galaxy. The Ras were respected—and feared—within the Council, with no less than nineteen of the ninety related in some form. Two of the Elites were Ras; Malens and Master Cyros ra Vensa. Because of this fact, many within both the general Council and the Council Elite suspected collusion between the family to maintain control over the Expansion.
They were right. It was natural that beings would side with their own blood over others. Yet the Ras were bred for leadership. They were better-qualified than most, especially those who had been advanced simply because of fame or twists of fate. For this reason, the Ras of the Elites often clashed with Synnoc, whom they considered to be an outlier. Yet recently, through the Sol-Kor conflict and now the war with the Humans, Synnoc had consolidated his power to a frightening level. This included the appointment of his friend and confidant Kradis to the position of Fleet Marshal. In addition, during his time within the military wing of Juirean organizational structure, Synnoc had forged many lasting relationships with Overlords and Master-Overlords, many of who now controlled all the forces of Juir and beyond.
This was a dangerous time for the Elites, a tipping point where the empire could go either way. Malens had to be very careful with regards to the erratic and temperamental Elder.
33
“I appreciate you coming, Trimen, but Synnoc will never let me leave. I am being used to lure Adam and Riyad to Juir. Once they arrive, they will be placed in custody and then all of us—Sherri included—with be publicly executed.”
“We cannot allow that to happen.”
“How can you stop him? His Guards and Overlords occupy Formil, and his forces are much stronger than the Humans. He controls our destiny, yours and mine.”
“Trimen…the door has just unlocked,” reported one of the other Formilians.
Trimen concentrated and the door relocked.
Arieel saw the intense look on Trimen’s face and understood immediately.
“You have a Gift!”
“We all do.”
“The door has unlocked again.”
“Lock it…and keep it locked.”
“Something is not right. The door keeps unlocking.”
“As I ordered…lock it again!”
“Ah, c’mon!” said an angry voice from the other side of the door. “What the hell’s wrong with this thing?”
Arieel looked at Trimen. �
��Adam?”
Trimen looked back. “Cain?”
“Hell, I’ll just blast the son-of-a-bitch!”
Arieel smiled. “Yes, Adam Cain.”
Trimen opened the door with his mind.
Adam was in shock. One Formilian, yes. But not a whole room full of them.
Riyad shoved Adam and Sherri inside. “Will one of you super-brains please close the door,” he said.
The door slid shut.
Adam pulled off his helmet, a fraction of a second before the voluptuous Arieel Bol was in his arms. Adam hugged her back, slightly embarrassed by the fact that her mate was standing next to him. He looked over at Trimen and smiled. “Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”
“Quite well,” came the ice-cold reply. “I must say I am not surprised to see you here.”
“That’s more than I can say about you…and the others. What are you doing here?”
Arieel broke her embrace, and then made her rounds, first to Riyad and then to Sherri. She hesitated hugging the person in the white burqa at first, not until Sherri unwound the sheet from around her head. They hugged and then Arieel stood back. “Are you all right? You look terrible.”
Adam watched Sherri scan the alien up and down. Arieel Bol was every boy’s wet-dream, dressed in a soft flowing gown made of a light blue, silk-like material, undulated in all the right places; her hair was black, long and luxurious. There was nothing to show she was being held prisoner, and only days away from being executed.
“Well, thanks for brat, erieel.”
“Did the Juireans do this to you?”
“Synnoc. I almost kwilled em.”
Trimen stepped up to Sherri and hugged her. Adam saw her take in a deep breath and grow weak-kneed. Formilians—both male and female—had that effect on Humans.
“To answer your question, Adam, we came to Juir to bargain for the release of our Speaker. Synnoc would not even consider releasing her to us. As usual, it was because of you.”
Adam knew what Trimen meant, so he didn’t argue the point. “Yeah, but now we can all get away.”
“And what happens to our people if Arieel is freed in such a manner? Formilians will suffer,” Trimen said.
“Not if we kwill that someofmabliss.”
Trimen frowned. “What did she say?”
“She said not if we kill that son-of-a-bitch.”
“I still do not understand.”
Riyad stepped up. “It means we have to kill Synnoc and put an end to all this.”
“That would be no guarantee,” Trimen countered. “Others will continue beyond him.”
“The Union fleet is headed this way,” Adam said. “I’m thinking the Juirean hold on the Expansion won’t last much longer.”
“And what if your fleet is defeated or turned away?” Arieel asked. “I agree with Trimen. I must consider my people. If my death will keep them safe, then I am willing to let it happen.”
“But I am not.”
All eyes turned to one of the unspoken Formilian males in Trimen’s entourage.
“I understand your devotion to our Speaker, Innos,” Trimen said, “but this is larger than her alone. We must protect the race.”
“The Juireans will not be a concern…not when you appoint me as Speaker.”
There was awkward confusion in the room. Trimen frowned. “Innos, you are talking crazy….”
His voice trailed off as he watched the handsome, chiseled features of the Formilian begin to transform. A faint glow came to the skin and five seconds later the Formilian known as Innos was now Lila Bol.
There was a long moment of stunned silence and inaction until Arieel, with tears in her eyes, rushed to the arms of her daughter and hugged her tightly. Lila returned the emotional embrace before looking over her mother’s shoulder at the stunned audience.
“Hello, father—and Trimen. Greetings.”
Adam wasn’t immune to the shock, and now a multitude of questions—and possibilities—raced through his head. He didn’t know how to react. This was his daughter, but she was mutant with very little in common with him except some DNA…if that was still the case. With her ability to alter her form through cell regeneration, any trace of Adam Cain may be long gone by now.
“Lila, what…what are you doing here? You left,” he stammered.
“I still monitor the events in my home universe…and I could not let my mother be murdered. What kind of daughter would I be if I let that happen?”
“Is Panur with you?” Adam eyed with the other two members of Trimen’s group with suspicion, expecting at any moment for one of them to morph in the short, grey-skinned mutant.
“No, he remained behind. He understands what I must do. We might meet again, when my work here is through.”
“And what work is that?” Trimen asked. He had helped raise Lila until the age of six, believing her to be his. But then she began a period of rapid growth and maturity. Although chronologically she was only eight years old, before them now stood a lovely young Formilian female appearing to be in her early twenties. She was ravishing—a clone of her mother, only younger. For her part, Arieel was the equivalent of ninety Earth years old, yet had the look of a bikini model in her early-thirties.
“Once we dispatch the Elder, we will return to Formil where I will take my rightful place as the new Speaker of the Formilian people. The Juireans will know of my powers and will not dare risk retaliation against our people for fear of my wrath.”
Adam nodded. “Sounds good to me. I know I wouldn’t want to mess with you.”
“There is a difference, father. You know me, yet at this point the Juireans have only heard stories. They know of Panur more. Now it is time they get to know me, along with my Human father. It shall be a volatile mixture.”
She smiled at Adam, and his heart melted in a wave of fatherly pride. He not only had a beautiful young daughter, but she was also a genius. And with incredible super powers. And she was immortal. Just the kind of daughter every father wished he had.
“Although this reunion is all touching and shit,” Riyad said, breaking the awkward silence. “But shouldn’t we be going?” He turned toward the door.
“Please wait, Mister Tarazi,” Lila said. “If you exit now you will encounter a Juirean Guard force twenty strong. We have been under surveillance since the beginning.”
“Why didn’t any of you super beings disable the damn cameras?”
“Because we had not been expecting your arrival,” Trimen answered.
“We’re here now, so what’s next?” Riyad asked.
Lila moved to the door. “I will lead us out. Besides those outside, many more are coming.”
She looked up at the camera concealed in the corner of the ceiling and pointed a slender finger at it. A second later a bolt of blue light erupted from the tip….
34
Acus bin Masins climbed the stairs to the Pinnacle Room with caution. He was not allowed inside unless accompanied by a Councilmember. The fact that two Guards stood at the base of the stairs and did not protest his entry, meant he had found the Elder.
Synnoc was seated at the large freeform conference table, with a video monitor lifted from its surface and studying intensely the scene it was broadcasting.
“My Lord, forgive me.”
Synnoc barely reacted to the intrusion.
“My Lord, I did not notice you logged into the room. I have been looking for you.”
Distracted, Synnoc motioned for his assistant to be seated.
Acus looked at the screen. “Is that of importance, my Lord? If not, may I request your attention?”
Synnoc muted the audio and turn to the Overlord. “I have been watching the meeting of the Formilian delegation with Arieel Bol. I am curious if I can learn more from the interaction.”
“And have you?”
“Nothing, except that which I suspected. She was not with Adam Cain at the time of the Overlord’s death.”
Acus knew all the Elder’s secrets. It had
been he who relayed the secret orders to the ship’s captain, directing him to assassinate Overlord Esketon and then place the blame on Adam Cain. Shortly thereafter, however, all the Juireans present died in a terrible explosion, creating a mystery as to what took place after the killing. Even though Synnoc hoped to place the Formilian at the scene of the crime, it was generally accepted by those involved in the plot that Arieel Bol was on Worak-nin at the time, with Fleet Marshal—Admiral—Andy Tobias. That mattered not. She was still to be charged with aiding the Human terrorist.
Now the Elder focused his vacant eyes on Acus. “What do you want?”
“I must report some strange behavior among the Elites.”
The mention of the Elites piqued the Elder’s attention. “What kind of strange behavior?”
“My Lord, I went first to the chambers of Vice-Elder Malens ra Erron to provide him with an update on the defense of Juir. I was not able to meet with him.”
Synnoc frowned. “You were acting on my behalf. Who denied you this access?”
“I was not denied access, simply told by his escorts that he was unavailable.”
“Asleep?”
“It is the middle of the day, my Lord.”
“That is still possible. Master Malens is old.”
“Yes, my Lord. So I took the report to Master Cyros next. His Guards were there, yet he was also unavailable.”
Synnoc sat up in his chair. This was unusual. Cyros was one of the most-energetic of the Elites. He surely would not be asleep at this hour.
“Yet his Guards were in his chambers?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“So he had to be there.”
“I took the report to Master Havorn next.”
“The same?”
“Yes, my Lord. Do you wish to hear my suspicions?”
“Only as they mirror my own. The Elites are not in their chambers, but elsewhere in the building.”
“Exactly. Why would they have been doing such, and without escort?”
Synnoc smiled. “You need not sound naïve on my account, Acus. You believe they are meeting in secret…and without me.”