by T. R. Harris
“That’s fine; I don’t really care. What is your name?”
“Azzel, my name is Azzel.”
“Okay, Azzel, I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to find your mates and your family – including your daughters, but especially your sons – and then I’m going to kill them in the most-painful manner imaginable. Then I’m going to eat them.”
Adam could see the shock on Azzel’s face. “No! Not my sons!” So he only cares for the males? What a fucked-up society this is, Adam thought.
“Yes, your sons, too, and I will make them suffer even more for what you have done.”
“Please no! We are very poor here. Stripping credits from defenseless Travelers is how we survive.”
“I don’t care. I’m going to kill them and then eat them all … unless you do as I say.”
Azzel scrambled to his knees, stirring up a small cloud of brown dust as he did. “Anything!”
“I’m only going to be on your sinking planet for a couple of hours, Azzel. After that I’m leaving. I will either be leaving the planet for good, or I will be leaving to track down your family – and your sons. The choice will be yours.”
“Of course; what do you wish of me?”
“I want you to watch after my ship. It’s that simple. I do not want a repeat of what just happened. Also, clean up the mess I left. I’m sure even this hell-hole has some kind of police force. Keep them away, at least until after I leave. Is that something you can do for me?”
“Yes, of course, Traveler. I apologize for what we attempted. It was all Kellze’s idea.”
“I don’t care; you’re responsible. Just do as I say, and I’ll be gone in a couple of hours.”
Adam then turned from the trembling alien and walked off in the direction of the small town, confident that his commands would be followed. Otherwise … well roast-alien did sound rather delicious, especially with a nice marinade!
The dusty, dirty town Adam found himself in had a name, but he had promptly forgotten it once the coordinates had been entered into his nav computer. He would be here so briefly that he didn’t care if it had a name or not. It was just another shithole town on another shithole planet.
Adam Cain, U.S. Navy SEALs, had participated in his fair share of rescues and extractions during his military career, yet in all those operations he had never paid a ransom. SEAL’s usually were the alternative to paying a ransom, so the whole concept bothered Adam at a certain level. But on another, it didn’t. The money wasn’t his – hell it wasn’t even real money in the first place – and it seemed simpler just to let the kidnappers have their way. Besides, there was no underlying principle being violated here, nothing like a ban against negotiating with terrorists. If the Formilians didn’t care about the money or the principle, then neither would he….
Adam found that breathing on this dust-bowl of a world to be growing increasingly difficult. It was mid-day on this part of the planet, and even though it was hot, a strong breeze was serving to keep the temperature tolerable. Yet the breeze was also stirring up numerous dust-devils of abrasive, blinding sand to invade his lungs and assault his eyes. It was like Iraq all over again.
Dozens of the natives were on the streets of the town, seemingly immune to the blowing dust, and each watching him out the corners of their double-lidded eyes. Adam was sure they were curious how a single being could have emerged from the spaceport unscathed, being fully aware of the presence of the ‘tax-collectors’ amongst their ranks. In fact, Adam was sure that several of the natives watching him now would have profited handsomely from the activities of the land-pirates, if they had been successful. The place just had the look of a classic den of thieves.
And so Adam’s eyes methodically scanned every dark opening, as well as every corner he passed, watching for any potential threats. His destination was directly in front of him, and he only had a few more yards to go. Once inside … well again, he had no idea how things would play out.
He approached the double-metal gate set within the white-washed walls of the compound. There were no openings in the gate or sentries on the walls, yet he was sure he had been watched as he approached. Then almost without having to break stride, the gates swung inward and Adam marched confidently through.
The compound he entered contained somewhere around eight to ten buildings, each two stories tall and with wide courtyards separating them. There were a few mangy-looking trees sprinkled about, doing their best to survive in the hot, dry climate, while a cacophony of insect sounds provided the soundtrack for the familiar scene.
Four natives quickly surrounded him, forcing him to a stop.
“State your business, Traveler,” said one of them.
“I think you know why I’m here,” Adam shot back. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The aliens considered him for only the briefest of moments before disarming him and then escorting him into the largest building on his right.
He entered a pavered foyer, complete with a wide Spanish-style arch embedded with broken, colored tiles. Adam looked around to see if he’d entered a time-warp, suddenly transported to a small Mexican hacienda. Yet as with all his deja-vu moments before, this one was soon shattered when more of the tall, rust-colored aliens filled the foyer, rather than a contingent of sombrero-wearing and mustached-Mexicans.
“Follow this way,” one of the aliens said, and Adam was led down a wide, echoing hallway on his right. His native guards opened a door to a side room and motioned for him to enter.
Obeying, Adam found he was in a large room about thirty-feet square, with another doorway on his right and a large window to the left displaying one of the courtyards separating this building from the others. There was a table with six empty chairs set near the far wall. The lead guard approached the table and set Adam’s MK-17 down loudly upon it.
Adam then looked more to his right and his heart began to pound. There in the corner, sitting on a lone stool, was Arieel Bol, The Speaker of the Formilian people.
Adam took a step in her direction but was stopped by a cadre of guards. They hustled him toward the table; he chanced to look back at Arieel, shocked to see her so frail and vulnerable. She appeared to be unrestrained, yet she did wear a strange, white cap on her head, looking to be made of a fine, metal mesh. Her cheeks were sallow and her large black eyes vacant and non-seeing.
She was certainly under the influence of a drug of some kind, simply rocking slowing back and forth in the corner – but at least she was still alive.
Next, Adam’s attention was diverted as he heard the door to his right begin to open, screeching on rusted hinges like fingernails on a chalkboard. The effect was excruciating, but not as shocking as who he saw enter the room.
It was Nigel McCarthy.
The large, red-headed Englishman was himself frozen in shock as he spotted Adam, yet only for a moment until the look changed to that of sheer panic.
“Call all the guards!” he yelled out as he grabbed the lead sentry by the shirt and pulled him close. “Scan the entire area for others, and secure the front gate. Do not let anyone approach the compound, even if they’re your brothers and sons. Shoot anyone who comes within fifty feet of the walls. Do it now!”
He shoved the hapless guard away, and soon the entire room was swarming with a dozen additional guards. McCarthy had withdrawn a high-powered MK-47 from his holster – the most-powerful of the MK-line of handguns – and was holding it against his cheek. He moved past Adam to the large window, standing to the side, scanning the exterior.
He touched a small communication box on his shoulder. “Carter, prep the ship. We may have to bug out of here in a hurry.”
“What’s up,” was the response through the comm box.
“That bloody Adam Cain is here.”
There was a pregnant pause before Carter Thomas, Nigel McCarthy’s second-in-command responded. “Where is he? Is he alone?”
McCarthy looked back at Adam, his eyes ablaze with anger.
“He’s right here with me. It looks like he’s alone, but you know this bloke; you can never be sure what he’s up to.”
The initial shock of seeing his old nemesis had worn off enough that Adam now sat with an amused smile watching McCarthy panic. It only made the whole kidnapping affair come into better focus.
Nigel McCarthy, formerly of Her Majesty’s Special Air Service (SAS), was a criminal through and through, so why wouldn’t he be neck-deep in the kidnapping of The Speaker? This was his style.
Yet the last Adam had heard of Nigel McCarthy he was being shuffled off to Elision, the home planet of the Kracori. That was ten years ago, and now here he was, alive and still up to no good.
Adam flashed Nigel a wide, Cheshire-cat smile, which only seemed to infuriate the large Englishman even more.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Cain? This is not a good time for a class reunion.”
“If you’re referring to the ransom of the Formilian Speaker, then you’re probably right.”
McCarthy came away from the window, never taking his eyes off Adam and moved to the other side of the table, the MK now leveled at his chest. “What do you know about that?”
“I’m the one sent to deliver it and bring our pretty little Arieel back home.”
“No shite? How – why you?”
“Right place, wrong time, I guess. So are we going to do some business here or not?”
McCarthy stared at Adam for several seconds before responding. “Are you alone? They were told to come alone.”
“I’m alone,” Adam answered, still with an amused look in his eye. He was really enjoying watching Nigel squirm like this. The two of them had history together, and Adam was sure that if the roles were reversed, he would have had the same reaction.
“I just want to make this exchange and be on my way, Nigel. Whatever happened between the two of us happened over ten years ago; it has no bearing on what’s happening now. And besides, I’m just as surprised to see you here as you are to see me. Talk about a small galaxy.”
Again, McCarthy took a long while before responding, but then Adam saw a sparkle return to Nigel’s pale blue eyes. But then the sparkle turned to a sinister grin slowly stretching across his face, an expression that was the exact mirror image of Adam’s own smile fading away.
McCarthy wouldn’t suddenly be satisfied with the situation unless it meant trouble for Adam. He watched nervously as Nigel pulled back a chair and sat down, confidently placing the MK-47 on the table as he did so.
Something had just happened in the devious mind of Nigel McCarthy, and all Adam Cain could do now was swallow hard … and pray.
Chapter 10
Two natives held Adam by the arms while another searched him. When the alien was done, he looked up at McCarthy, concern plastered on his face. “He carries no credits on him.”
McCarthy smiled at Adam, while his eyes scanned him up and down. “So where is the ransom you’re supposed to being me?”
“I don’t have it on me. That’s a lot of credits to carry. I had to see of The Speaker was okay before turning it over you.”
Nigel smiled back at Adam, now completely confidence in his control of the situation. He met Adam’s eyes and they locked on. “Mr. Cain, is that a king’s ransom in your pants, or are you just glad to see me? Check his groin area,” the Englishman commanded to the alien guard.
The native cocked his head slightly.
“Between his legs; check between his legs.”
The creature bent down and clumsily began to unfastened Adam’s pants. “Okay, stop,” Adam said. “I’ll do it.” He unzipped the fly and reached inside, before withdrawing a large plastic pouch containing the purple Expansion credits.
The alien snatched the bag away and held it up to McCarthy with pride.
“I’m glad I was here,” McCarthy said. “It seems I’m the only one familiar enough with Human anatomy to know something was more than it seemed. However, it does look as if I will have to sterilize these credits before I can use them.”
Adam was in no mood for jokes. “Okay, now that you have the ransom, will you release the Speaker?”
“I would like nothing more than to oblige – once I have learned the secret of her powers.”
“That wasn’t the deal.”
“No, it wasn’t, at least as far as the Formilians were concerned. But it is mine.” McCarthy picked up the MK-47 again. “Now that I’ve had a little time to recover from the shock of seeing you again, Adam, I must say I’m ecstatic that it is you who have brought the ransom. I can’t believe what a stroke of good luck this has become.” He turned to address the lead guard. “Put the credits on the table and then leave the room,” he commanded. None hesitated as they all quickly exited, leaving their boss alone with the other Human.
Adam looked over at Arieel, who was still sitting near the corner, rocking slowing in the chair and softly muttering. “If she dies you know it will start a war.”
“Exactly, Mr. Cain, I’m counting on it! But we’ll get to that soon enough. What I’m really curious about is what you’ve been up to over the past three, four years? I thought you’d gone back to Earth to bask in the glow of your greatness?”
Adam really wanted to know more about McCarthy’s plans, not reminisce about the good ole days, but he figured the longer he kept McCarthy talking, the longer he might actually live. That was a big incentive to accommodate the big Englishman’s ego and curiosity.
“Nah, I’d had enough of all that. I decided to stick around and play Luke Skywalker for a while longer.”
“And now you work for the Formilians?”
“Actually, I do odd jobs for Kroekus.”
“Ah, that makes more sense, after all we are all part of the old Fringe fraternity, aren’t we?” Adam could tell McCarthy was thoroughly enjoying the conversation now that he knew Adam was no threat to him.
“But what about you, Nigel? The last I heard you were on your way to Elision to cozy up with the Kracori. Whatever happened to that arrangement?”
McCarthy slapped the table in front of him. “I have you to thank for that!”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s right. After you got up in front of the galaxy three years ago and announced that the Kracori were an official outlaw race – whatever that means – and that the Humans would hunt them relentlessly, the grey bastards got nervous that I might trade their planet’s location for a full pardon, or some such nonsense. So my men and I figured it was best to bug out, rather than wait to be taken out. So we split.”
“So why haven’t you cut a deal? I’m sure the powers back on Earth would’ve worked something out.”
“I have my reasons, Adam, not the least of which is that even though the big-wigs would let me come back, thanks to you and all the bloody books written about your exploits, I’m pretty much the new-Hitler of the space age.”
“That was Riyad’s book that said all those things about you. I haven’t written anything myself.”
“Be that as it may, I’d still have to stay in hiding for the rest of life. People don’t soon forget a billion dead relatives – or the guy who helped the aliens kill them.”
Adam just shrugged.
McCarthy continued. “So instead, I chose to concentrate my efforts in other areas and have helped to bring the word organized to crime in the galaxy.” He smiled broadly. “And it’s been easier than I thought. It’s as if Superman turned villain. If that ever happened, there’s not much others could do to stop him. It’s the same here.
“Just think, I send in my men out to cut a deal with a local drug dealer and suddenly I have a piece of the action on over twenty-five worlds. Then I go down the street and do the same with the contraband kingpin. It hasn’t been hard to arrange the meetings and then convince these weak-kneed aliens that it’s in their best interest to let me in. And in the end, we all end up making money.
“And about the location of Elision, I’m keeping that in my back pocket, just in case
I run into some ambitious Humans who might think it’s a good idea to take me back to Earth. Hell, I could even trade that information to some alien government looking to score points with the Humans. That information alone is worth a fortune.”
“So where are the Kracori located?” Adam asked with a smile, knowing Nigel would never casually give up the information.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, my friend; wouldn’t you like to know.”
Adam looked back at the still catatonic Arieel Bol. “What have you done to her? She looks totally messed up.”
McCarthy waved a dismissive hand. “She’s fine,” he said. “We kept her drugged for a few days and then the scientists fitted her with that brainwave-disrupter thing. It scrambles her higher brain functions while keeping the lower one’s going, the ones that keep her breathing and shit like that.”
“And what’s this about you wanting to start a frickin war? How is that going to help you out?”
McCarthy met Adam’s eyes for a moment as he thought what to say next. Then he gave a slight nod, more to himself than to Adam.
“I’m sure it’s beginning to dawn on you, Adam, that things are not as you were led to believe,” McCarthy began, a smug, satisfied look now on his face. “I have thirty-million credits sitting in that bag, plus the Speaker of the Formilians as my captive – a creature of incredible powers I might add. I also have a small army of over one hundred Humans, which you know is a force to be reckoned with here in this alien universe. I also have a vast and growing criminal empire, in a galaxy ripe for the organization and unity I’m providing. And now I have you, the famous Adam Cain. I must be living bloody-well right!”
Nigel looked at the large window to the outside. When he turned back to Adam his eyes held a devious sparkle. “I shouldn’t do this; after all I have seen far too many Bond-movies to fall for the trap. But I’m just so anxious to see the look on your face when all is revealed.” McCarthy was so wickedly satisfied with himself that he almost burst out laughing.
Adam sat stone-faced, wondering what was so funny, and afraid he would soon find out.