Last Species Standing: The Human Chronicles Saga #20

by T. R. Harris

  The vote overwhelmingly favored Qintis and his desire to stay as non-threatening to the Kac as possible. Sending a team out to kill their most-famous and successful players would have only added a level of confusion and contradiction to the Kac leadership. Calls for the extermination of the Nuoreans would have been made, and it was uncertain which way the decision would fall. It was too great a risk for Qintis. He had to plan more long-term.

  There were only one hundred Third Cadre within the Nuorean Kac population. They’d come to the galaxy to measure the exact location of the planet Earth for a gravity attack using LP-6. Now they were without mission and purpose—other than to address the wrong Adam Cain and his players had done to the Nuoreans.

  So Qintis wasn’t surprised, when a few days after the meeting, Janvis and his Cadre raided the coffers of the confiscated wealth from the six worlds under Nuorean control and absconded with a portion of the credits. The amount taken was insignificant when weighed against the wealth of six planets, but it would serve Janvis’ purpose.

  Qintis knew what the Third Cadre officer had in mind.

  Janvis and his Cadre took seventeen small attack vessels and one transport and left Nuorean territory for places unknown. The word would soon go out, covering the entire galaxy. Since Nuoreans did not use credits—or money, as the Humans called it—Qintis had only a vague idea what impact it would have on the natives of the Kac. But he knew it would be noticed.

  In the end, it would not be the Nuoreans who would kill Adam Cain and his players. It would be the natives of the Kac galaxy—what the Humans called the Milky Way—who would do it for them.

  And the Nuorean leadership would plead impotence in the actions of this breakaway group of Cadre players, sparing the bulk of the population from retaliation.

  It was a brilliant plan. Just as Janvis—and Qintis—had devised.

  1

  Riyad Tarazi had spent most of his life looking over his shoulder, watching for people who might be watching him. By now it was habit, and as he sat with his back against the wall at a table in Jaclyn’s Tavern, in the Nimorian city of Gildemont, he noticed every creature entering the bar.

  Jaclyn’s had special meaning for Riyad. He’d spent considerable time here during his days as leader of the Fringe Pirates. That was twenty years ago, and even though he had to believe none of his old cohorts were still around, he couldn’t take the chance of being recognized. He’d shaved his thick black beard in an effort to remain anonymous, yet not to avoid law enforcement this time. Instead, it was to save him from his adoring fans. That was one of the side effects of saving the galaxy from deadly threats…and on more than one occasion. Sure, Riyad wasn’t as famous as his buddy Adam Cain, but he did have his following.

  And now that following had become a nuisance.

  Since returning from the Andromeda Galaxy—with a third of the planet Nuor trailing behind—he and the rest of the team had been showered with praise and ceremony from one end of the galaxy to another. This had happened before, but not to this degree. As a consequence, the team disbursed, each looking for their little piece of solitude and anonymity.

  Back on Earth, Sherri and Copernicus took to a chartered sailboat and disappeared into the South Pacific. The aliens Kaylor and Jym returned to their respective homeworlds to endure whatever celebrations awaited them there, while Adam took Riyad’s lead and shot off into space in a gifted luxury space yacht for places unknown.

  In Riyad’s case, he sought out familiar territory, trying to recall memories from a time before he had responsibilities beyond his own selfish needs. The planet Nimor called out to him. It had been the unofficial base of the Fringe Pirates; even Angar, his second-in-command and successor to his leadership, was a Nimorian. Now, as he scanned the room, he could imagine it was in this very spot that Adam killed a pair of Rigorian thugs the day before Riyad met him—and his life changed forever. Two decades had passed under the bridge since then, and his experience and perspective had matured over that time, to take on a more galactic outlook He was now the second-most famous Human in the galaxy, admired—even worshiped—by an untold number of sentient beings, and from thousands of different species.

  Not bad for a kid from the slums of Beirut, Lebanon.

  Riyad rarely engaged in any of the illegal activities of his gang of teens and pre-teens. Rather, he was the mastermind, and because his capers were so successful, he drew a fervent and loyal following. His gang prospered, even in the unimaginable squalor and savagery of the city.

  It was his talent for leadership that first brought him to the attention of the jihadists. At fifteen he was recruited into the ranks of the nascent Al Qaida organization. He left Lebanon for Afghanistan, before being sent to Florida for advanced training in chemical engineering. Afterwards, he was given his own cell to run. Throughout the years, Riyad climbed in rank, eventually becoming a legend among the freedom fighters for his cunning, attention to detail and phenomenal success rate.

  Yet Riyad was never a true believer. Instead, he reveled in the planning and execution of elaborate operations. It was the journey that excited him, more than the destination. As a result, in his ten years as an international terrorist, he had only personally killed three individuals. They had been traitors to the cause, and he felt justified in their assassinations.

  His operations, however, were a different matter. He felt a detachment from the death toll, taking as much responsibility for the casualties as a weapons manufacturer would for how its product was used. His product was the plan. What others did with it was of no concern to a younger, more pragmatic Riyad Tarazi.

  Fortunately, he wasn’t like that any longer. He was older—just over fifty—and wiser. He saw things on a grander scale, and with the help of Adam Cain, had been forced to reevaluate his place in the universe, to the point where he could see how one person could make a difference. At least he could with a little help from his friends….

  His friends at the moment were a pair of Human manufacturer reps out in the Fringe hocking their wares. They noticed Riyad the moment he entered the bar and glommed onto him immediately; it was rare to find another Human on Nimor these days. They didn’t recognize him, so he introduced himself as an indie merchant, just passing through the Fringe. The intoxicants flowed, and Riyad began to relax, lost within his artificial persona.

  That’s when he noticed the two Rigorians enter the bar.

  To Riyad, they stood out immediately, more so than normal. First of all, they paused to scan the other patrons within the dimly-lit room. This was unusual. Rigorians didn’t give a damn who was around; they’d dominate the scene wherever they went. But these two were looking for something—or someone.

  Secondly, when their eyes fell upon Riyad and the trio of Humans, there was only the slightest hesitation before they averted their eyes. This was the final tell. Humans were the apex predator in the galaxy, and a definite challenge to the huge lizard-like beasts. As it was in the animal world, they would have made eye contact, if for no other reason than to acknowledge the presence of another killer in the room. But these savage creatures tried too hard to look unconcerned. And when they took seats at the bar, with a clear view of the Humans, the hair on the back of Riyad’s neck stood up. They weren’t here looking for his autograph. They had a more sinister purpose in mind.

  Never one to let a bad situation come to him, Riyad lifted the glass of half-full intoxicant and placed it to his lips. He threw back his head and guzzled a large amount—before spitting it back into the glass. Then he turned to his new friends.

  “I regret to say this, but I have to drain the lizard.”

  The two men overreacted, buoyed by the quantity of alien alcohol in their systems. “Good luck with that!” one of them said. “I nearly puked when I went in there a while back. Now I’d rather go outside and piss on the sidewalk than go back in there.”

  Riyad knew what he meant. Alien bathrooms of the public variety were a Human’s worst nightmare. First of all, they we
re unisex—whatever that meant in an alien society where it was often hard to tell one sex from the other. They also had every imaginable accoutrement, from raised toilets and urine troughs, to simple holes cut in the floor. The stench was indescribable, as a plethora of digestive systems did their thing, while producing a cocktail mix of paint-peeling gases and cast-off fluids.

  Riyad left the table and staggered to the restroom, playing up his drunken state even more so for his surreptitious audience. Fighting back a gag, he moved to the back of the room and stood before a disgusting metal bowl covered in yellowish-green grime. A moment later, the two Rigorians entered.

  One of the seven-foot tall lizards stationed himself by the door, while the other moved in behind Riyad.

  “Tarazi…Riyad,” the alien called out.

  Riyad glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said proudly. “I didn’t think anyone would recognize me. Wait a minute and I’ll give you an autograph.”

  “Autograph…what is that?” asked the Rigorian with a growl.

  “A memento, something you can show your friends and family that you actually met me.”

  Rigorians didn’t seek autographs, nor did they engage in hero worship.

  “We are not here seeking such things!” the alien bellowed.

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  Riyad glanced off to his left; the lizard by the door was drawing his MK-17. With his arms still pointed toward his crotch, Riyad activated the small laser weapon he held in his hand. It was battery-powered and good for a limited range and a two-second beam. But that was long enough for the red light to appear on the wall next to the alien’s head by the door, momentarily distracting him. As his head turned, Riyad shifted the angle slightly, sending the thousand-degree-beam slicing effortlessly through the Rigorian’s neck.

  The alien behind him also had his weapon drawn, yet even if he pressed the trigger, Riyad would be upon him before the targeting computer could lock on. With the laser weapon now just an inert six-inch metal tube, Riyad clinched it in his hand and spun, placing a solid right fist against the side of the Rigorian’s long head. The alligator-like creature crumbled to the grimy, smelly floor. Riyad placed his booted left foot on the alien’s gun hand while dropping his right knee onto the bulbous chest of his assailant. He had his own MK-17 drawn and pressed against the side of the alien’s head.

  Just then the door to the bathroom opened. Both alien and Human looked toward the portal

  A four-eyed thing with crusty grey skin stood in the doorway. A pair of eyes looked to the decapitated Rigorian on his left, as the other pair took in Riyad sitting atop the other huge lizard, gun to his head. The gray alien took a step back and closed the door.

  Riyad turned his attention back to the Rigorian.

  “What the hell?” he said. “Why are you after me, my friend?”

  “Friend?” said the alien, confused. The universal translation bug implanted behind the alien’s ear indicated Riyad had warm feelings for him, even as the other part of the sentence knew him to be a threat.

  “Just tell me why you’re looking for me?”

  “It is for the bounty.”

  “What bounty?”

  When the alien hesitated, Riyad pressed the barrel of the MK harder against his skin. “You know who I am; don’t test me.”

  “The Nuorean bounty.”

  Riyad was taken aback. “Why would the Nuoreans have a bounty out on me? And for that matter, why would you do anything the Nuoreans want you to do? They’re a threat to everyone in the galaxy.”

  “We do it exclusively for the credits.”

  “Yeah, I figured that. But why are the Nuoreans after me?”

  “As I understand, they found evidence that you destroyed their homeworld of Nuor. They have now placed a galaxy-wide offer for the death of you and your team.”

  “How will they pay for it?

  “They may be limited in number—and without reinforcement—but they do have footholds on six worlds. They have confiscated all the wealth thereon, which is more than enough to satisfy my needs.”

  Riyad’s mind was racing. The entire team was in danger, and with a king’s fortune offered for their heads. As pragmatic as most creatures are, there could already be an army of hired killers after them. He had to let the others know.

  “Thanks for the information,” he said, flashing his trademark brilliant white smile at the Rigorian. In normal circumstances, this would have signaled a death challenge, but Riyad figured he and his alien buddy were beyond that. So he simply triggered his MK and splattered the Rigorian’s brain matter across the already filthy floor. He figured no one would notice.

  2

  From seventy feet in the air, the pair of massive hammerhead horses didn’t look that imposing. Unfortunately, Adam Cain knew that was just an illusion

  Hammerheads—that’s what he called them—and for good reason. The magnificent beasts were easily two ton in weight, with rippling muscles under a shiny coat of black hair. They had exceedingly thick necks required to hold up the knobby, triangle-shaped plates of bone resting on their foreheads—wide at the top and tapering to a point near their long snouts. A pair of large, black eyes extended on nubs at each end of the wide top, hence the hammerhead shark comparison.

  Underneath the plate was a normal-looking horse-like snout and long mouth, with a row of rounded teeth used for grazing. The beasts also had a set of long, muscular arms extending from the torso, along with a pair of six-fingered hands, three nimble digits on each side of the wide palm.

  Just your average pair of ten-foot-tall Centaurs, except for the plates of bone on their heads…as well as the fact that these huge creatures were trying to kill him….

  The planet was designated ES-341, and was a heavy-gravity world—by comparison—which made it less attractive for colonization by the mostly-lightweight members of the Expansion or the Orion-Cygnus Union. Yet it was just right for Adam. He’d come to the planet looking for respite from the constant ceremony and celebration that resulted from his most-recent saving of the Milky Way Galaxy—this time from the Nuorean menace. There were no admiring indigenous species here to contend with, and he wouldn’t have to worry about losing bone and muscle mass as he would on a low-gravity world.

  In reality, that wasn’t much of a concern anymore, not with the tiny tumor of immortal alien mutant brain cells residing within his skull, which were capable of altering his physical condition. That was another reason he sought the solitude of ES-341. He needed to learn more about his abilities and how to utilize them. As he’d experienced over the past six months, control of his abilities wasn’t the issue. How to summon them on demand was. It was one thing to have a surge of strength and energy, but not knowing if it would come when needed—and to what degree—was a bummer. Knowing such things could come in handy as he planned his day.

  So ES-341 was the perfect place to hang out for a while, away from the crowds of well-wishers and clingers-on, who just wanted to bask in the glow that was the famous Adam Cain. He could also experiment with his super-human abilities without people knowing he had them.

  As soon as he landed the small personal space yacht—which was itself a gift from a grateful Earth-bound trillionaire—he began to hear strange claps of thunder echoing through the towering peaks of the surrounding mountain range. It was springtime on ES-341, with a lingering of snow on the higher elevations. Otherwise the place was a study in all the possible shades of green; in the trees, in the grasses, and even the glowing aurora in the evening sky.

  Each time he’d hear the booms, he’d look into a clear blue sky expecting thunder clouds. But there were none. Then two days later, with his curiosity piqued and a theory in mind, Adam set off through the pine forest looking for the source of the explosions.

  He emerged from the tree line on the edge of a wide meadow of waving green grass, which terminated at a steep cliff falling off into a river valley far below. As he suspected, he came upon
the huge horses, each sporting the crusty headplate and with eyes spaced three-feet apart along the edges. Adam watched in amazement as the huge beasts squared off, then charged at incredible speed toward one another before crashing their plates together like battering rams, sending a sharp report echoing across the land.

  Yet the mighty collisions seemed to have no effect on beasts. Adam watched as they smashed together four times in rapid succession before stopping to graze in the meadow as if nothing had happened.

  Adam didn’t know if this was a mating ritual or just a couple of young bucks blowing off steam. But after hanging around the spaceship for the past two days, he was restless—and curious. Throwing caution to the wind, he began to make his way through the knee-high grass toward the beasts.

  A sudden shift in the wind delivered his scent to the horses. They stopped grazing and cast large black eyes in his direction. From under the plates, moist nostrils flared and sniffed the air. Slowly, the pair began to amble in his direction.

  One of the beasts lingered at a patch of grass while the other continued up to him. Slowly, Adam reached out his hand and let the towering creature sniff at it. Then a long, mucus-coated tongue lashed out and licked his hand. Adam patted the huge head before running his hand along the headplate.

  It was almost six inches thick, with the top side covered in rolling nubs and rough ridges. There were scars—trophies from past battles—and yet for all its imposing presence, the hammerhead centaur was docile, calm…and harmless.

  That’s when he realized he’d lost sight of the second beast.