by T. R. Harris
Dawson hesitated. He looked around the room and Nigel could see him mentally counting the number of commandos. “There are more outside, too.” Nigel said, helping him out. “Keep this up and you’re all going to die.”
Nigel saw Dawson’s shoulders slump. “He’s one floor up, along with Henderson and Sherri. Riyad’s over in Ops, or he was the last I heard from him.”
“Any of them armed?”
“They may be by now.”
“Can you call them? It would be better if we could negotiate a truce.”
Dawson just nodded. The commandos shoved him over to an intercom unit placed on the wall near the door. There was a keypad and a speaker grill.
“One-one-one will get you building-wide.”
“Thank you sergeant, you probably just saved the lives of the rest of your team.”
Nigel punched in the code and then leaned in close to the speaker. “Good evening, Mr. Cain,” he began, hearing his own voice echo throughout the common room. “You probably have already guessed who has dropped by for a chat. I have your Mr. Dawson down here on the second floor, and I’m sad to report that it looks like Commander Schwartz has just resigned from your team, permanently. We can keep picking off the remaining four of you, or we can talk. The choice is yours.”
Almost immediately the speaker crackled. “Schwartz is dead?”
“That’s what I meant by his resignation.”
“Yeah, I got that, you fucking bastard. What do you want to talk about?”
“I promise you, I do not want to kill any other members of your team. I just want to talk, and then to make you a proposal. After that, I’ll leave.”
There was a long moment of silence before Adam came back on the intercom. “All right,” Adam said, his voice trembling with anger, even over the speakers. “Riyad is in Ops. Let him come out unharmed and the rest of us will come down to you.”
“Perfect, mate! Make your call and then will all have a chat.”
Chapter 27
Ten minutes later the remaining five members of Adam’s team were in the common area, hands fastened behind their backs and seated together on two couches. Sherri was sobbing softly over the loss of Lee Schwartz while the men just glared at McCarthy with unadulterated scorn.
Nigel stepped up in front of them. “I just want to tell you that Commander Schwartz took out seven of my commandos before we could put him down. He died a soldier’s death.”
If this were meant to make them feel better, it was a catastrophic failure. Adam thought back to all the missed opportunities he had had to kill McCarthy over the years, and how if he’d done so, Lee would still be alive. The guilt was helping to feed his anger. “What do you want, Nigel? You’ve gone through a lot of effort for something. I’m sorry if Arieel is still alive, but there’s nothing you can do about that now. I’ve never pictured you as someone who does anything simply out of revenge.”
Nigel raised his eyebrows and smiled. “I appreciate that, Mr. Cain. I would hope I wouldn’t.” He motioned for his men to take the other four to one of the apartments on the floor, leaving him alone with Adam.
Once the room was clear, Nigel pulled a chair from one of the dining tables and turned its backside toward Adam and sat down, resting his arms on the backrest. “Here’s my proposition for you, Adam. I still want my war, and as we both know, the only thing that’s preventing it is that our lovely Arieel Bol still breathes.”
“Those are the breaks, man,” Adam said. “She’s safely at home and there’s nothing either of us can do about that.”
“Ah, yes, but there is. You can go see her again. The two of you are apparently very tight, as you are with the bosses of the Order. You could get in to see her, in spite of all the security.”
“And tell her what? Nigel wants you dead, so please keel over?”
“No, you don’t have to do that. All you have to do is step up to her and break her lovely neck.”
Adam threw his head back with a loud laugh. “And why the hell would I want to do that?”
“Because if you don’t I will kill the equally lovely Miss Sherri Valentine.”
Adam felt himself go pale and weak. He sat for several moments staring into Nigel’s eyes, eyes now filled with the sinister sparkle of the criminally insane. “You’re serious?” was all Adam managed to say.
“Deadly serious, Mr. Cain. You see, I want my war and you’re the only one who can get close enough to the Speaker who also has the skills to kill without a weapon. After all, I doubt the Formilian’s would let even you close to their precious demi-god with a weapon. Yet you’re a trained killer, and she is just an alien. It will be a snap – a snap of her neck! And knowing how resourceful you are – as well as bloody lucky – you may even get away once the deed is done.”
“And if I say no, then you’ll kill Sherri and everyone else here.”
“Why wouldn’t I? They mean nothing to me. But if you do kill the Speaker, then I will let them all live, including yourself – if you manage to get away.”
“What guarantee do I have you’ll keep your word?”
“None … I’ve always wanted to say that!” McCarthy said, the insane look in his eyes growing more intense, more savage by the moment.
Nigel’s really enjoying himself, Adam thought, probably some throwback to a childhood fantasy of being the arch-villain in a comic book.
“You don’t have any choice, Adam. If you say no, I’ll kill Ms. Valentine right in front of your eyes, and in the slowest, most-painful way I can imagine – and I have quite the imagination when it comes to things like that. And now that I have even more captives, I’ll kill them, too. Lastly, I’ll set my attention on you. That will be the most fun. You won’t die quickly – hell you may not die at all! But if you do live, then you’ll be more grotesque, more hideous than any of the things we’ve seen out here. Need I go on?”
Adam knew McCarthy was serious. He also knew he had no choice but to comply – at least for now.
“So what now, are you going to ship them all off to your super-secret base or are you going to wait here while I go wring Arieel’s neck?” Adam had had his device on since he first got the call from Ka’lo. He could pick out the flash rifles carried by McCarthy’s men, but also knew they carried traditional weapons. And it wouldn’t do to have the flash weapons explode – if he could even do that at this stage in his training – not with his team nearby.
For his part, McCarthy was not carrying a flash rifle; instead he wore only a Colt M1911 pistol in a holster around his waist. The only other piece of electronics he had on his body was the shoulder communication module … plus a strange looking medallion hanging from a chain around his neck. Adam sought to learn more of the medallion but found just a void area in his scan. Either the medallion was not electronic or … McCarthy had built a Formilian-type control device!
The revelation shocked Adam to his core. This was one of his worst fears – what if McCarthy learned the secret of artificial telepathy. He scoured his memory to see if he could remember if any of McCarthy’s men also wearing medallions, but didn’t think so. He was sure he would have noticed, since the pendant was so prominent on Nigel. So if it was only Nigel he had to contend with, then he just may have a chance. Besides, Adam was pretty sure Nigel didn’t know about Adam’s own device.
“We’ll be parting company here, Adam,” Nigel was saying. I will take your team back to my base for safekeeping, while you take one of your hotrods back to Formil. I know how fast your ships can go, so I wouldn’t lollygag if I were you.”
Adam was almost positive he’d never heard Lex Luther or one of the Bond villains say lollygag before, but he was also sure there’s never been a super-villain named Nigel before, either. That kind of thinking – at a time like this – was not helpful.
McCarthy stood up and pulled Adam to his feet. He flicked out a Fury commando knife and cut the nylon straps from his hands. “You may need your hands free to pilot the ship. Now let’s get you going. I’m
sure you have everything you need aboard your ship.”
McCarthy led Adam to the elevator and then down and out of the living quarters building. During the walk to the hangar, neither said a word. Nigel walked with the confidence of a person who knew he was in complete control of situation, and in some ways he was. He had four of Adam’s closest friends locked away in another building and under guard by twelve highly trained commandos. He was also wearing a device around his neck that allowed him to control electronic modules.
Adam’s one ace-in-the-hole was that he sure his device was of a more-advanced and that he had training from the masters, something Adam was sure Nigel lacked. Once he got to the hangar, with its myriad of electronic equipment, modules and machines, Adam would make his move.
As they approached the building, Adam saw that the lights illuminating the entrance to hangar were on, even though he had turned them off himself – mentally. He also saw the bloody corpses of Nigel’s commandos strewn out on the tarmac. And there, off near the edge of the building and situated between two empty power-module containers, was the still body of Lee Schwartz.
Adam felt an incredible wave of sorrow flow over him. He had known Lee for over three years and could count the missions they’d gone on together at over twenty. He had played cards with the man and traded jokes. They each shared a love for the ocean – the ocean of Earth – and the scenic beauty of the California coast. But now here he was, on a world twenty-thousand light years from his home with no one to grieve for him, except only in passing.
McCarthy would pay for this! Even though Lee was just one more casualty to be added to McCarthy complicity in a billion others, this one was right up there with the deaths of his wife and child during the Juirean attack on Earth.
As the two of them passed through the gaping entrance to the huge hangar, Adam could feel the awareness grow within him. The device was either mirroring his anger or had sensed it on its own. Either way, the unit was geared up and ready for action.
First, Adam severed the leads to Nigel’s shoulder communicator, isolating him from contacting his backup. Then they approached the ramp leading up to the airlock within the Phoenix.
“I’ll be watching the newscast,” McCarthy said at the head of the ramp. “The news of the Speaker’s death needs to be broadcast; I need my Omphly allies to know when the deed is done. Only then will I release your team, including Ms. Valentine.”
Adam had already entered the airlock when he turned back to Nigel. “I need to use a tractor to pull the ship out of the hangar,” he said while walking back down the ramp past Nigel.
“Make it quick—”
As Adam passed McCarthy he lowered a shoulder into the Englishman’s side while at the same time grabbing the chain holding the medallion around his neck. He shoved Nigel further up the ramp and into the airlock while ripping the medallion away. Once Nigel was inside the airlock, Adam commanded that the hatch close and the inner door lock, trapping McCarthy inside.
Adam stood panting on the incline ramp, holding the medallion in his right hand and feeling really proud of himself. That was easy. Now McCarthy was out of the picture; all Adam had to do was head back and rescue the rest of his team—”
Suddenly the outer hatch began to open! McCarthy was standing at the entrance now holding his Colt firmly in his right hand. “You dumbass! The device still works for several feet away from my body. It’s my brainwaves that count. Now give it back and stop fucking around.”
Adam backed away, holding the medallion out in front of him. “You can’t kill me. If you do you’ll never be able to get to Arieel.”
“I’ll figure a way; I’m good at that. But I could also just start killing your team. I didn’t need that medallion to take over your base, I don’t need it now.” He reached up to activate the comm unit. “Carter, come in.” He waited … nothing. “Carter, come in. Where the bloody hell are you?”
As Nigel slowly walked down the ramp toward Adam, talking on the communicator and holding the Colt steadily on Adam, he didn’t notice the slowly moving electric tractor that had come around the front end of the Phoenix. Adam cautiously guided the heavy-duty cart along the side of the ship and toward the ramp. Then just as it got to within ten feet of the ramp, Nigel noticed the movement out the corner of his eye. As he turned – his eyes wide – Adam sent the tractor slamming into the ramp, sending Nigel tumbling down the metal incline.
Adam took off for the stack of energy modules, all held securely in impenetrable metal canisters. Nigel McCarthy was a crack shot, and even as he rolled down the ramp, he managed to let loose with three very accurate shots in Adam’s direction. One scorched his shoulder, while the others ricocheted off the metal floor of the hangar, barely missing him.
Nigel was soon on his feet again and running toward the energy modules. Adam crawled on his belly between two large stacks and circled back as Nigel rounded the stack. He jumped to his feet and ran again, rounding the back of the Phoenix while still grasping the medallion.
Two more blasts erupted from McCarthy’s weapon, the rounds making barely a dent in the hard surface of the spaceship. The sparks, however, from metal hitting metal, flew off the ship and landed on Adam’s face – they were that close!
As Adam ran around the ship he noticed a large tank of acetylene gas standing near the central construction workbenches. The release for the gas was electronic – of course – as was the igniter draped over the tank. With his mind, Adam imaged the release value and commanded that it open, releasing the gas into the air. But now he reached a quandary. The inner wall to the hangar was directly in front of him, only about ten feet away. The tank was about thirty. Adam pressed himself against the wall and turned toward the work area. And then he began to concentrate. He’d seen Arieel do this before; all he had to do was envision what she had created.
McCarthy rounded the back of the Phoenix and spotted Adam standing in plain sight against the far wall. He stopped running and began to approach cautiously, the weapon still leveled at Adam’s chest. “Now you’re being reasonable,” he said. “There’s no need for either one of us to get hurt….”
McCarthy slowed his approach as he began to imagine a thin blue light between him and Adam. He frowned and cocked his head, squinting to see if what he was imagining was real or not.
Adam continued to concentrate, letting his face go limp and his eyes staring off into space. He could see the shield in his mind’s eye, and when he refocused on the space before him, he could see the image of McCarthy shimmering on the other side of a light blue aura.
Suddenly Nigel’s eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open. “You right bloody bastard – you, too?”
Just then Adam lit the igniter above the gas tank, causing a tremendous explosion of heat and blue fire to envelope the inside of the hangar. McCarthy was blown to his right, impacting the side of the Phoenix with such force that it would be a miracle if he survived. Meanwhile, the effects of the blast spread out over the entire north end of the hangar, heading straight for Adam.
He fought with every ounce of his mental concentration to maintain the image of the shield, and when the concussion hit, it was like nothing he expected. The explosion shoved him hard against the metal wall of the hangar, the flame and searing heat only inches from his body. The inferno continued for what seemed like an eternity, with yellow and blue fire trailing off to his left and right, yet not penetrating beyond the shield.
Finally, it was over, and the shimmer blue shield recoiled back from his body. He was alive – and unharmed. But that couldn’t be said for this section of the hangar. It was a smoldering remnant of its former self, with debris piled against the sturdy bulk of the Phoenix and against the outer walls. The area where the acetylene tank had been was devoid of anything, except for blackened streaks on the metal flooring.
The life-saving shield of static electricity slowly faded away and Adam moved out into the center of the work area. He looked around quickly trying to find the medallion that he
remember as last being held in his grasp, but no longer there. Then against the wall, he saw the broken and charred remains of the device. It was destroyed … at least was this one.
He heard moaning coming from near the Phoenix and immediately realized it had to be coming from McCarthy. Damn, he survived. Can’t anything kill this guy?
A pile of debris fell near the spaceship and a leg appeared, the clothing burned, the skin underneath red and bloody. Adam walked over and rifled through the pile until he found Nigel’s head. Except for a bad gash under his left eye and half the thin hair on his head missing, the big Englishman didn’t to be too badly injured. His beady blue eyes were glowering at Adam.
“You … you have it, too.” He managed to spit out through swollen lips.
“Yeah, but mine’s the Cadillac of the telepathy machines. Yours was an Edsel.”
McCarthy managed a painful laugh. “But I can mass produce the things. Can you?”
The thought sent Adam’s stomach into knots. That was definitely something that gave McCarthy the upper hand, even if he wouldn’t be around to guide it. His technicians knew.
Adam quickly pulled Nigel from the pile of debris and found a metal chain that had blown nearby. He wrapped it around Nigel and then placed a metal bolt through the links to keep it from coming undone. In Nigel’s injured condition, it should be enough to hold him. Adam now had to prepare for the blow back from the explosion. Surely McCarthy’s commandos had to have heard it.
He ran to the front of the Phoenix just as half a dozen armed men appeared at the hangar opening. They had their M4A1 carbines securely in battle ready stance as they approached. They also still had the flash rifles strapped across their backs.
Adam slipped down behind one of the big landing pads of the Phoenix and tried hard to remember what Trimen had said about how to turn a flash weapon into a bomb. That was it! Disconnect the fire control and discharge the power pack into the weapon. He closed his eyes and began to envision the inner workings of a Xan-fi flash rifle. He had used this weapon for years now and knew nearly everything about it. The images poured into his mind.