Invasion Force (The Human Chronicles Saga Book 21)

by T. R. Harris

  McAuliffe had a clear shot at the planet.

  Simon McAuliffe didn’t need to be with the allied fleet. He was a planner and no one would have questioned it if he’d stayed on Formil. In fact it was unusual that he would be with them at all. But he was also a man of ambition. If this attack came off as planned—and the Klin were stung by it—Simon McAuliffe would be the first person to score an effective hit on the invaders. More attacks would follow—in fact a whole flood of them—designed to eliminate the Klin’s ability to make war. This was the beginning of the end for the invaders, and it would be McAuliffe and his fleet leading the way.

  After that, the sky would be the limit for Simon McAuliffe, the Savior of the Milky Way.

  G-nin Bor was the fourth planet from the M-class star at the center of the system. It was a typical Expansion member world: Juirean-standard gravity, oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and carbon-based Prime natives. It was rated an H-class for technology, which placed it one level below the most advanced.

  The fleet swept past the fifth planet in the system—a smaller ringed world—before entering the Nin-void, a wide stretch of space forty million miles across. The ships of the fleet began to deploy, each with specific land-based targets to concentrate on. A billion or more Sumerlins would die as hell rained down upon them from orbit. It was a steep price to pay for joining the Klin, but worth it if the advance could be stopped with their sacrifice.

  The fleet had just passed the million mile mark out from the planet when the first laser beams shot up from the surface. These were pulse lasers, which over the distance they traveled appeared more like impossibly long arrows of white light passing through space. Traveling at nearly the speed of light, the beams reached their targets less than six seconds later.

  Simon McAuliffe was in the command ship, still five million miles out, when the attack began. The bridge crew erupted into action, coordinating defensive actions. Contingency plans had been drawn up in the event of a surface defense, such as the one they were now facing. It had always been a possibility, but McAuliffe was shocked by the intensity of the beams.

  They appeared to be coming from three distinct points on the surface, located at equal distance around the planet. From these locations, the entire world could be defended against a space-borne attack, even as ships lower in the atmosphere would find shelter from the curvature of the globe.

  Operational commanders gave the order: Bolt for the atmosphere to get under the defenses.

  As three hundred ships activated small maneuvering gravity-wells, the intensity of the laser arrows increased ten-fold. From space, it looked as though the most spectacular fireworks show of all time had just begun. But at the end each one of the radiating shafts of light was a damaged allied starship.

  With ample surface-based power, the Klin lasers kept firing, until individual allied starships broke off and made for the safety of far-distant space. Deep gravity-wells were engaged, even from within the upper levels of the G-nin Bor atmosphere. Other ships, damaged by the unstoppable laser beams, began to break apart and fall toward the surface, leaving fiery trails of debris in their wake.

  The retreat order was given without Simon McAuliffe’s input. A hundred scattered ships fled the vicinity of G-nin Bor. Not a single bolt or bomb from their weapons bays or turrets had been released, let alone make it to the surface of the planet. It was a total rout—and it was about to get worst.

  “Ship on screen, Captain!” a member of the bridge crew yelled. A Castorian named A’mock Rin was the captain of the ship and senior commander of the allied fleet. He wore a small breathing tube attached to his nose; an accommodation to the majority of the crew that didn’t require the breathing supplement. He looked over at a pale Simon McAuliffe.

  “It is a Klin delivery vessel, approaching from out-system.”

  “Don’t fire on them!” the Human yelled, in even more of a panic. “The ship is harmless unless their weapons are charged.”

  “That we have briefed,” the alien growled. His stern expression and gruff voice broadcast his disrespect for the Human. McAuliffe’s plan to attack the Klin had turned out to be a total bust. Now all A’mock Rin wanted to do was get the rest of his decimated fleet to safety.

  “The Klin ship has launched a missile,” reported the same crew member as before.

  All eyes turned to the master tac screen to watch a line of energy separate from the tail of the six-mile long Klin warship. What happened next, no one was expecting.

  A bright ball of blue and white light burst forth in the black of space, spreading out to form the distinctive ball of a nuclear explosion. Gigantic ribbons of electric blue energy coursed through the growing globe. A second later, the Klin ship was engulfed by the explosion.

  Nothing could be seen inside the massive ball of fire, not until a million-mile long beam of intense white light shot from the roiling mass of radioactive fire. By the time light and nuclear heat began to dissipate, the Klin ship had already made its turn and was heading for the concentration of allied vessels around the flagship.

  The huge beam of energy streaming from the Klin ship changed direction, now aimed at the remains of Captain Rin’s fleet. Dozens of other beams shot out from hull turrets, also targeting the Expansion warships.

  Simon McAuliffe’s last living act before his ship was turned to mince-metal by the Klin laser weapons was to report back to Formil the results of his failed mission. The Klin not only had powerful land-based defenses, but they had also anticipated his attack in time to bring a black ship on station. But worse than that, the enemy had used a nuclear weapon to charge their own weapons. These ships should no longer be considered harmless-unless-provoked. They were killers in their own right.

  By the end of the campaign, only nineteen ships out of a fleet of four hundred eighteen made it back to Formil.

  Now the galaxy waited to see what the Klin would do next….

  9

  The starting point of the Klin invasion of the Milky Way could easily be traced to the planet Anbor-Namin, where Adam and his team were taken in the black ship before managing to escape to the surface. The Klin had been on their way to the planet when they heard Adam was being held on a Nuorean-controlled world to too far off their track. They changed course in hopes of capturing their Public Enemy #1. Afterward, they resumed their mission and turned Anbor-Namin in a smoking pile of burned out buildings and unfathomable death and suffering.

  For Adam and his team, the planet was a good starting point. It was the focus of the cone of conquest, as he’d come to call the Klin’s offensive action. Beyond Anbor-Namin and reaching toward the outer edge of the galaxy, lay an area of unclaimed territory where the dregs of the galaxy settled. It was similar to the Kidis Frontier or the Radis, only smaller and even more savage. With the indiscriminate introduction of star travel hundreds of years before, primitive beasts with no business having such technology were free to roam the region, using entire planets as hunting grounds, both for food and trophies. The region was still recovering from the devastation. As a result, most worlds had loose militias to protect what was theirs, even if what was theirs had been someone else’s only a few years before.

  It was a logical place for the Klin to begin their assault on the Expansion. No one in their right mind would enter the region without an army behind them…or an ATD embedded under their skin.

  “What the hell’s wrong with the air?” Sherri asked, her nose pressed against the round canopy of the Juirean Express Transit vehicle. “It’s purple.”

  “The computer says it’s safe to breathe.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I like purple; it’s one of my favorite colors. Just not in the air I’m breathing.”

  It was odd, Adam admitted; a purple haze in the atmosphere, and not a reflection from outer space. This stuff swirled in light patches everywhere. It wasn’t a particulate, because it never settled on surfaces. It was a gas of some kind combined with the standard mix of oxygen and nitrogen.

  Riya
d, are you in position? Adam asked through his ATD.

  If you’re asking are we in orbit, just waiting to be attacked by pirates, sure. About a dozen small ships are in the area sniffing around, wondering what we’re carrying in our ample cargo holds. I have to keep shifting position before someone gets the courage to come in for a look.

  Have Arieel keep an eye on them. If need be, she can shut down their engines. We’re about to head to the town. I’ll try to keep the channel open so you can hear what’s going on.

  How about just give me the highlights. Having a running conversation going on in the back of my mind is a little freaky and distracting.

  Roger that, Adam thought, smiling. Here we go….

  Adam had to blink several times before his eyes adjusted to the strange color of the air. It was darker than normal—as was expected—but not much. It only took a couple of minutes before he and Sherri became acclimated.

  The planet was called Rasnon-4 on the charts, but the inhabitants called it Borlac—the local word for their concept of Hell. It wasn’t that the planet was hot or desolate; it was actually a pleasant place with lush green forests and beautiful blue seas. The name had to be reflection of the people who lived here. Just on the short walk to the border of the port—there was no fence surrounding the landing field—Adam identified nineteen different species, with none more prominent than the other. It was impossible to tell which one was the indigenous race—if there even was one.

  As usual, it wasn’t so much the presence of the Humans that caused the stir, but rather the beefy-looking starship they arrived in. Juirean ETs were rare even in the Expansion. Out here it was a good bet no one had ever seen one before.

  Adam activated an external security shield, which hopefully would keep most of the curious away. He shrugged. He’d done this countless times before with other starships. It never worked then; why would he think it would work here?

  If the Klin had once used this planet as a staging area for their robot invasion of the Expansion, the locals would know about it. This wasn’t a planet where people settled down for good. They moved around constantly. Ship’s crews would know everything that’s going on throughout the region. And they could all be found in any of the numerous local dive-bars located outside the grounds of the spaceport.

  The place was a shithole, with every building they passed in immediate need of serious repair. And bums lay sleeping—or dead—on the dirt sidewalk, while piles of garbage and dried feces were everywhere. Adam had experienced some nasty places in his life—some on Earth—but this one topped his list of the most-offensive.

  Sherri and Adam passed several hole-in-the-wall establishments before coming to one that actually had a lighted sign and a series of intact windows, giving a hint as to the size of the bar.

  They stepped inside and were immediately hit with a blast of fresh-smelling air from a vent in the ceiling. This came as a shock, since most spacer-bars throughout the galaxy dealt with the pungent smell of their patrons by not dealing with the situation at all. This place attempted to head off the offensive mix of odors before it became a problem. Adam was impressed.

  The interior was also brighter than he expected, although the purple tint was omnipresent. They took a table near the left-side wall and sat down, immediately placing their fingers in the blood sampling box attached to the tabletop.

  An alien with a face full of short spikes came up to the table, dragging a useless leg behind him while using a small wheeled crutch attached to his shoulder to move across the wooden floor.

  “Humans, you are,” he said as he hovered near the table. “I have seen your kind here before, but rarely. Mostly from the vids do have I experience. I am Vosbin. I am the owner of this feed station.”

  Adam nodded and stretched out a thin grin, careful not to expose his teeth too much. This was the kind of place where death challenges were taken seriously.

  “Nice to meet you, Vosbin. I’m impressed with your…station, especially the vent at the front door.”

  “I do it for my own comfort, as well as my customers. If I must work here, I do not wish to be exposed to the scent of others.”

  “Understood. What intoxicants do you recommend?”

  The alien checked a datapad he carried in his hand, which would by now display the blood signature of the Humans. “A number three is compatible. None of my other Human customers have complained.”

  “And we need something to eat,” Sherri added. “I’m starving.”

  “A bowl of cooked critchens, I would recommend. It is a local meat with a sauce seasoning. Again, Humans have eaten it in the past without dying.”

  Adam didn’t know if the alien was being facetious or factual—probably both. Either way, he liked Vosbin.

  “Very good. We will follow your recommendations.”

  After the alien left, Sherri and Adam surveyed the room. Most eyes were upon them. There were about thirty creatures, most in clusters at the tables or as individuals at the ubiquitous counter. Most of the customers looked away when meeting the eyes of the Humans; a few didn’t. This was expected.

  So what next? Sherri asked in his mind.

  First we eat; I’m hungry, too. Then we step it up a notch.

  We’re not here really looking for the Klin, you know, Sherri reminded him. We’re here to get noticed so the Klin will find us.

  I think we’ve accomplished that. I detected a substantial uptick in comm links the moment we walked in. Someone’s getting the word out.

  A moment later, Vosbin arrived with their drinks and bowl of steaming meat, looking like chicken fingers in a thick, dark sauce. It smelled good, which was an added benefit of the neutral odors in the room; Adam could actually smell the food.

  Sherri beat him to the bowl, using her fingers to pull a strip from the pile. She blew on her fingers—the meat was hot—before snipping off an end with her teeth. Cautiously, she let the meat reach her tongue. She raised her eyebrows.

  “Damn…that’s good.”

  “Tastes like chicken, right?”

  “No, beef mostly. Try one.

  Ten minutes later they ordered another round of drinks and another helping of the meat. Adam was wolfing down the food with reckless abandon.

  “I’m hungry all the time,” he said. “It’s really a bitch.”

  “I think your increased metabolism has something to do with that,” Sherri—the former veterinary student—remarked. “When your mutant brain cells have your body working at a higher level, you’re burning calories at an accelerated rate.”

  “But I’m normal now.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. You’re probably always right on the edge, possibly a defense mechanism.”

  “You could be right. But right now I want some more of those finger-licking-good critchens. I wonder if they have franchise opportunities available? These would be a hit back on Earth.”

  The humor was genuine and welcomed, causing the two Humans to relax, forgetting for a moment the critical nature of their mission. When Vosbin returned a few minutes later, Adam laid a pair of one hundred Juirean credit chips on the table.

  “That is far too much,” the alien said.

  “Keep it,” Adam said. “But I was wondering if you could help us out?”

  The spikes on the alien face turned hard, a reaction Adam could only suspect was anger. “I am a station owner. I try to avoid such overtures as they may bring harm to some of my patrons over others. By remaining neutral and uninvolved, I survive.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

  “If it is worth that many credits, it is something I do not want to involve myself with. There are others here who might help, but not me.”

  “I just want to know if you’ve seen any Klin around here?”

  “Klin!” The alien’s proclamation was loud enough to be heard throughout half the room.

  Well, that stepped it up a notch, Sherri thought through her ATD.

  “There are no Klin here. Why
would there be?”

  “I’m just asking.”

  “You must be insane, Human,” Vosbin said. “What creature would deliberately seek out the Klin?”

  “If not here, then I’m wondering if you’ve heard of them on other planets nearby.”

  Vosbin scooped up the Juirean credits. “I will retrieve your surplus.”

  “No keep it. The critchens were excellent.”

  “I will give you the surplus, and then I will ask you to leave.”

  “I thought we were friends, Vosbin,” Adam said.

  The alien shook his head. “In what universe was that ever a possibility? You come asking on topics that are dangerous, with motives I suspect only you know. We are not friends; who could be friends with Humans?”

  The alien left before Adam could say anything in his defense. But now the bar was abuzz. He detected more comm devices being activated. Before Vosbin could return with his change, Adam took Sherri by the arm. “We’re leaving. I’m sure someone’s planning a reception for us outside. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

  Sherri grabbed her half-full drink and drained it. “A little liquid courage never hurt,” she said. “Lead on, Captain Cain.”

  It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the stronger purple in the air outside. They turned left down the street, in the direction of the spaceport. From the various MK flash weapons and activated comm phones, Adam could tell they were followed from the bar.

  “There’s another concentration of flash weapons up ahead,” Sherri said verbally. “Some are on the roofs.”

  “I got ‘em—”

  The net that fell over them from above was made of black braided rope with a thin metal cord running through it. Adam picked up on the scent of fish in the material. If the fishermen on this planet needed a net with a metal cord in it, what the hell were they trying to catch?