Invasion Force (The Human Chronicles Saga Book 21)

by T. R. Harris

  “I want to learn how to do that!” Jym exclaimed. “Teach me.”

  “I don’t think I can,” Adam said. “I think it’s the mutant brain cells that make it possible.”

  “That is not fair! You seem to have all the best abilities, although I should be able to make the static electricity balls….” Jym placed his hands in parallel and began to concentrate.

  “Well, damn,” Coop said. “Jym’s right; too bad the rest of us can’t do that. It could come in handy during the mission.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s cool that at least one of us can do it.” He looked over his shoulder. “Now…I’m wondering if you could use your new superpower to clean out the corridor? All those dead bodies are beginning to create quite a stink.”

  7

  Adam opted for the old fashion method of alien body disposal. After gathering the weapons, he took a motorized cart from one of the cargo holds and stacked the bodies five high before dumping them out the back of the ship.

  Two pirates had remained aboard their ship, but they’d bugged out after seeing the life-sign monitors for the boarding party wink out. Nineteen dead pirates meant they’d obviously bitten off more than they could chew by attacking the old freighter. The survivors weren’t looking for any retribution for the loss of their comrades. It was a wise decision.

  Once the bodies were jettisoned, Adam went to the starboard engine room to check on the progress of the cycling unit install. The metal casing fit well into the hole created by the MK blast, and Kaylor, Riyad and Coop had moved the heavy piece of machinery to the forward end of the generator and were attempting to lift it into place.

  “Ah, just in time,” Riyad said as Adam entered the room. “We were just getting ready to cut the gravity again, but seeing that you’re here, you can just lift the cycling unit into place with your mind.”

  “That’s pretty big. I’ve never lifted something that big before.”

  “Yeah, that’s what she said.” Riyad sent Adam one of his trademark smiles.

  “C’mon, hotshot, give it a try,” Coop prompted.

  “Sure, why not?”

  Adam stood back so he could grab all the air in the room he could. The blue swirls returned, this time longer and wider. He concentrated on the underside of the ten-foot square module and the light began to accumulate there. The unit began to move. He was doing it.

  Just then, Kaylor gasped for breath, followed a moment later by Coop and Riyad. Eyes bulged and hands grasped vein-pulsing necks. All three crumbled to the deck.

  Adam was the next to feel the rush of air from his lungs. His mutant brains cells responded to his distress, allowing him to stay conscious longer than the others. He let his mind drop the cycling unit, releasing the compressed air under it to flow back into the room.

  Kaylor and the three Humans recovered quickly, coughing and leaning back against the bulkhead, trying to figure out what just happened.

  “Don’t tell me,” Riyad gagged. “You sucked all the air out of the room to lift the unit.”

  Adam was rattled himself, but not like the others. He nodded. “Another good thing to know, I guess. Like they say: Live and learn.”

  “With an emphasis on live, my friend,” Riyad added.

  After the many distractions and interruptions, the freighter was just about ready to go. The cycling unit was connected to the NX-41 generator with power lines attached. Monitors and gauges were running and everything seemed in order.

  The next phase called for Kaylor to align the eight focusing rings—four for each generator. They were located in a compartment under the bridge and focused the gravity-mass waves at a point in space about seventy miles in front of the ship—hence the name focusing rings. The waves would almost instantaneously build upon themselves in a dynamo effect before reaching the point where a miniature blackhole was created, along with its accompanying event horizon. The freighter would fall toward the singularity, before the blackhole would dissolve and be replaced with another, also seventy miles from the ship. This all took place in a fraction of a second. Pretty soon even the mightiest of starships could move through space using this technique; always falling towards oblivion, yet never able to reach it.

  Kaylor was relieved to find that the focusing rings were easily accessible aboard the freighter, not like they were with his old muleship, the FS-475. That ship had been poorly designed, with the placement of the focusing rings almost an after-thought. Yet without focusing rings, it wasn’t a starship. The skewed thinking of the ship’s designers still upset him to this day.

  Over the past couple of days Kaylor had already done a number of surveys of the ring compartment. He knew that at one point in the long history of the freighter something had hit the ship, damaging a number of the coupling stations. This was hard to do to this part of the ship. Normally, the singularities cleared the path ahead, sucking everything in the way into the event horizon. Whatever hit the ship had streaked in at an oblique angle, tearing out a pair of focusing rings in the process. Repairs had been made—sort of—at least enough to keep the ship operating for a few more years. After repeated breakdowns, the freighter had been retired to some unnamed planet where it rusted for several years before being moved to the orbiting starship graveyard.

  Two of the main coupling brackets showed signs of the haphazard nature of the repairs. On his first day aboard the freighter, Kaylor began making more permanent and modern improvements to the coupling units. He was a master at utilizing whatever he had available, and a ship this big provided the Belsonian with ample spare parts. He cannibalized whole sections of a transport system attached to the bulkhead of a cargo hold and managed to shape the necessary coupling brackets in the ship’s damage control workshop. He took great pride in his handiwork, even as Adam chided him, saying they only needed the ship to operate for a couple months. This wasn’t going to be a permanent addition to the Cain fleet—a fleet which, by the way, didn’t exist.

  Yet Kaylor didn’t do anything halfway.

  There were plenty of spare focusing rings in the supply compartment; unfortunately, many had collected a thick layer of dust when a section of the hull rusted away sometime in the past. Kaylor had to clean the lenses before they could be installed, being careful not to scratch the glass. Even still, several had to be discarded because of pitting on their surfaces.

  Four of the existing rings were good. Kaylor had replaced two others, and now had the final two with him as he walked along the curved passageway, lined on his left with periodic ring stations.

  He twisted a release lever and pulled out the sled that held the ring components. The new focusing ring was dropped in and pressed into a locking position. He closed the compartment before turning to the alignment controls placed on the wall.

  Send power to number seven, he said through his ATD. By now, the team was comfortable communicating through their brain interface devices; it was easier and didn’t require any additional equipment. The problem came from revealing too much information through their thoughts. Copernicus was still trying to make up with Sherri after transmitting some rather lurid observations about Arieel on an open thought. He still had a ways to go to perfect his telepathy technique.

  Routing power now, Jym answered in Kaylor’s mind.

  The panel lit up and Kaylor began to fine tune the focusing ring alignment, bringing the sine waves into sync, while also adjusting the target angle. This was much easier than he was used to. Having ample space to work was definitely an advantage.

  When he was satisfied with the alignment of ring #7, he closed and locked the sled before moving to #6.

  This ring station had provided him the most challenge with the new coupling brackets. It had taken the most direct hit from the rogue projectile and therefore needed the most reconstruction. When he inserted the new focusing ring and snapped it into place, he got an immediate red-light notice on his monitoring datapad.

  I am at number six. The wobble is beyond tolerance.

  Understood, came Jym’
s mental response. What are you going to do?

  Not sure. I do not want to rebuild the unit; that would take too much time.

  Is it peripheral or lateral? Jym asked

  Lateral…wait, I have an idea.

  Kaylor flipped the monitoring datapad over so he could see the backside. A small panel covered the battery compartment. With his thumb, he removed the panel and placed the two-inch-by-one-inch piece of plastic along the left side of the ring channel, giving a final push to secure it in place.

  Checking the still-operating datapad, he was happy to see the light shift to yellow—an indicator that the ring was stable and within tolerances.

  Activate power to the ring, he commanded.

  You fixed it?

  Apparently. It should hold for a while.

  And that’s how a five-hundred-foot-long intergalactic star freighter—a vessel that harnessed the unimaginable power of blackholes—got its groove back.

  Like most things that take place over a galaxy-size area, it was another case of hurry up and wait.

  Once the freighter was flight-tested and ready for faster-than-light travel, Kaylor placed the vessel within a deep gravity-well for the two-month-long journey to the starting point of the Klin invasion of the Milky Way. After a frenetic three days getting the ship ready, the team had nothing but down time now before reaching their destination.

  Kaylor steered the large craft above the ecliptic so to avoid a transit directly through the Klin cone of conquest. He and Jym spent the bulk of their time learning the finer aspects of the ship’s flight systems. After reconciling with Sherri, Coop was enjoying the personal tutelage of the two females aboard as they continued to give him a crash course in ATD operation. Adam got the impression he was learning faster than he let on, just to keep the women fawning over him.

  Adam spent most of his time with Riyad, each trying to outdo the other with dire scenarios about their current mission. When not so engaged, he was in his compartment perfecting his new superpower.

  More than any ‘power’ he’d acquired to date, he was getting the most kick out of his power of telekinesis. Since he’d learned a valuable lesson from the episode in the engine compartment, he was anxious to try out his abilities on a planet, where there was ample atmosphere to play with. He snickered when it dawned on him that even the real Superman didn’t have this power—not that he could remember.

  It didn’t matter. He had the power now and it was giving him a more confident outlook on the mission—despite the game he and Riyad were playing.

  During the journey the team kept up on galactic affairs by tapping into open broadcasts or through Adam’s sources back on Earth. Even though they were on an officially-sanctioned mission, he was told unofficially they were on their own. Various authorities had been ordered not to provide direct support to the team lest the Klin equate their activities with those of the Advisory Council. Adam smirked. It seemed the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

  It was while watching one of these bootleg broadcasts that Adam’s worst fears were realized….

  8

  Simon McAuliffe was a Human.

  Dzin Ra Moralan was a Juirean.

  And if hadn’t been for the presence of the other six strategic planners in the room, the two may have gone to blows.

  Whether or not the argument escalated to a physical altercation was up to the Juirean Overlord. McAuliffe had done some boxing in his younger days as a Navy lieutenant junior-grade, and now in his mid-fifties, he’d maintained his rugged good looks and wiry build. In the light gravity of Formil, the Juirean wouldn’t have stood a chance against the Human, and Dzin knew it. This fact only made the alien more furious. Juireans didn’t cow down to anyone—unless they knew it was a losing battle.

  But now the two were engaged in a battle of words—a conflict more conducive to the two of them leaving the room alive.

  “It is premature,” Dzin yelled. Juireans didn’t normally express their anger with such verbal intensity. Except for an occasional primal battle cry, they were usually soft spoken, yet clear with their meaning. “There is no evidence the Klin have changed strategy.”

  McAuliffe gripped the datapad tightly in his right hand. Had it been a stack of papers instead of an electronic device, he would have tossed it across the table at the obstinate alien. “Seven breaches beyond the plane of their most recent advance, and you do don’t call that evidence?”

  “The opening of the advancement cone has widened to the point where they must pick their targets with more care,” the Juirean stated. “This has caused their attacks to take on a more ragged appearance.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  The Juirean sat back down in his chair, prompting the red-faced Human to do the same. There was a visible show of relief from the others in the room.

  “As the Klin have advanced, they have come in contact with an ever-increasing number of Expansion worlds,” the Juirean said. “If they follow their customary thoroughness, they would have to suppress ninety-four worlds at their present position before moving on. They obviously do not have the resources to do this—not yet. So they are selecting specific worlds, and I might point out, accepting capitulation from a higher percentage of those they approach. Worlds that would have normally been destroyed are being passed by, absorbed into Klin territory, either to be left alone or dealt with at a future date. The strategy is sound.”

  McAuliffe looked to his left and the huge wall-size display screen. It showed the expanse of the Klin invasion, from its single point to the cone now measuring a thousand light-years across. Along the widest plane of attack were the ninety-four worlds the Juirean had mentioned. Only thirty-two had been targeted by the Klin, with nine accepted surrenders. That left a lot of planets awaiting a verdict from the Klin as to their ultimate fate. This was also the first surge the Klin had made where they didn’t gobble up every Expansion world in range.

  To Simon McAuliffe, the message was clear: The Klin were beginning to accelerate their penetration into the Expansion, making all the planners’ timetables obsolete. It also meant the time for action was now, and not twenty years in the future.

  Yet the Juirean and his faction didn’t accept this. They still believed they had time. McAuliffe didn’t. He wanted the allies to attack, and attack now. And every day they delayed put the Klin that much closer to the precious core worlds of both the Expansion and the Union.

  Dzin locked eyes with the Human. “If we follow your recommendation we will certainly upset the plans of the Klin. The Juirean people know this enemy better than you. They are methodical and rarely amend a mission once it has been implemented. Only a major event—like an attack on one of their manufacturing worlds—will disrupt it. Your actions would guarantee a reworking of their mission parameters.”

  McAuliffe pushed back in his chair and surveyed the faces of the other top-brass planners, all military personnel or technicians who specialized in strategic operations. He knew several were on his side, and had been since the beginning. With each passing surge in Klin activity they came to him demanding that something be done. They couldn’t sit by while the galaxy was being systemically absorbed by the silver-skinned aliens.

  Dzin and his smaller block were preventing McAuliffe from putting his plan into motion. But today was the day the Human would get his way. He had called for a vote of the planners…knowing he had the votes in his pocket. The current bloviating from both sides was more a way of venting frustration than to change anyone’s mind. The attack was going to take place, and within twenty-two days from the close of the meeting.

  The planet was called G-nin Bor, and it had been a small regional capital before the Klin overran the area. Much to the relief of the natives, their offer of surrender had been accepted, after which half-a-million robots arrived, along with a contingent of eighty Klin to help convert much of the planet’s manufacturing capacity to the production of more killer robots. Construction also began on two more of t
he huge black starships. For seven months the factories and crews worked around the clock, to the point where eighty thousand robots rolled off the production lines each day, and the skeletal ribs of the invincible spaceships could be seen in orbit by those with sharp eyes.

  Some of the allies wanted to make a strike against a planet with a less developed Klin presence, like the recent surrenders. McAuliffe argued for a more established planet, one that was producing a sizeable number of robots and whose loss would be noticed by the Klin. His argument won out in the end.

  It was a curious—yet fortunate—consequence of the Klin invasion that most of the worlds they either conquered or absorbed had virtually no security around them. Once a planet was invaded by killer robots, ships were free to come and go as they pleased. Some brought relief provisions, while others came to take the survivors away, possibly never to return to their homeworld again.

  On those that were allowed to surrender, it was remarkably easy to get spies on site, as well as the establishment of communications with the Expansion. Because of the abundance of intelligence coming out of G-nin Bor, McAuliffe and his commanders had overwhelming confidence in their attack plan and the possibility of success.

  Yet as a master tactician, Simon McAuliffe didn’t accept an anticipated outcome without careful consideration. The question that bothered the allies was why did the Klin leave these worlds so unprotected? He had an answer. With more than enough worlds offering to join the Klin cause, planets in the rear of the advance were expendable. More would be brought in to replace those repatriated by the allies, with manufacturing taking place closer to the front.

  That was the reason McAuliffe wasn’t surprised when his fleet of four hundred eighteen ships met no resistance when it entered the G-nin Bor system. Defenders from the planet were non-existent. The native Sumerlins—as they called themselves—had never had much of a military of their own. They didn’t need one. They had been part of the Expansion. And the black ships of the Klin were in service elsewhere, either delivering a rain of killer robots on helpless worlds, or intimidating others into accepting unconditional terms of surrender.