The Human Chronicles Saga : Boxset #2 (The Human Chronicles Saga Boxsets)

by T. R. Harris

  And something else the Omphly Brotherhood also knew: Arieel Bol, the current Speaker, had only nine more days to live.

  The Omphly leadership knew that the body of the Speaker was sacred to the Coalition, and that the Formilians had made provisions guaranteeing that their precious living-god could not be abducted and used for propaganda or as leverage for a capitulation of the part of the Coalition. Even though she was allowed to leave Formil on diplomatic missions, as well as for various ceremonies and displays she conducted throughout the member planets, the spies on Formil also knew she could not remain away from the Temple for more than twenty-eight days at a time. On the twenty-ninth, the Speaker would simply explode.

  The spies had become aware of Arieel Bol’s abduction almost the moment it happened. Advanced security monitors had captured the entire event on video. It had been a study in tactical precision, occurring within only a seven-minute timeframe. That was nineteen days ago, and to date the Speaker had not returned. Another nine, and she would never return – and the window of opportunity for an attack on the Coalition by the Brotherhood would be open.

  As Adam dropped the Phoenix down onto the dusty expanse of an ancient landing field, he could see dozens of dilapidated and rusting spaceships dotting the field around him. The spaceport was not located near the planetary capital, but rather outside a small town on the opposite side of the planet from the seat of power. Even though there was the occasional newer merchant ship to be seen, it was obvious that this region of Uniss-3 did not get a lot of traffic.

  Adam was apprehensive of the whole ransom affair. He knew the kidnapping was probably the work of some splinter group of radicals or that of a criminal organization, which meant neither would carry any official government sanction. These kinds of affairs tended to be more unpredictable. The perps could simply kill Adam, take the ransom and kill Arieel … and then vanish into the night.

  He doubted any of the kidnappers knew of the self-destruct within Arieel’s body. If they had, the ransom demand would have come much sooner. As it was, they were cutting it close to the edge. If it hadn’t been for Adam and the Phoenix, the ransom money would still be three days away.

  So Adam’s plan was not to try any heroics. He would simply pay the ransom and take Arieel back to Formil. The Order of Light officials on Formil had not seemed too concerned about the credits they had to spend for the ransom, so neither would he. In fact, Adam still believed it was an unbelievably low number for the return of the Formilian’s Supreme Living Being, the Giver of Light and Warmth. The Formilian Coalition was one of the wealthiest regions of the New Expansion, so they had the money. In fact, if it had been Adam doing the kidnapping, he would have asked for a whole lot more.

  Adam strapped a traditional MK-17 holster around his waist and checked the power pack in the weapon. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself by carrying a more Human-like projectile weapon. He just wanted to get in and out without too much fanfare.

  The planet Uniss-3 was a Juirean-standard gravity world, putting it about three-quarters that of Earth. The atmosphere was breathable without assistance, even though the dusty, silica-laced sandstorms that were common could cause potential lung damage. But two hours or so here wouldn’t be long enough to cause any concern, so Adam moved to the rear airlock and fingered the controls.

  A rush of hot air blasted his face the moment the hatch opened and he began to cough. After a moment, he had recovered, and moved down the ramp to the reddish-brown surface below.

  The town where he was to meet the kidnappers was located about two miles outside the landing field. In the light gravity, the walk would be effortless, but he quickly noticed that even if he wanted one, no transports-for-hire were waiting near the field. He would have to walk.

  Then off in the distance, he noticed a cloud of dust moving his way. He waited near the side of the still-creaking and popping hull of the Phoenix once it became apparent that the vehicle was heading his way. As the transport drew near, he could see that it was a beat up, four-wheeled truck of some alien design. The rear compartment hood had been cut off and rising up from where the backseat would have been was a large flash rifle mounted on a rotating pedestal. There were five natives all piled on the transport, each carrying their own MK-17.

  They did not look like an official welcoming party, and Adam was pretty sure they weren’t with the kidnappers. The Formilians had received very precise instructions as to where Adam was to go once in the town. There was no mention of him being met at the landing field.

  The transport slid to stop about twenty feet from the Phoenix, causing a dense cloud of dust to swirl up to the ship and engulf Adam. He began to cough again.

  When the dust settled, four of the natives had already jumped from the transport and approached him. They did not draw their weapons – there was no need, not with the fifth member of the team manning the mounted flash rifle.

  The Unisslings were taller than Adam – nearly all lighter-gravity world aliens were – and they were covered in a light yellow skin of various degrees of coarseness, like that of sandpaper. The large eyes were yellow as well, with a double membrane that helped rid them of the omnipresent dust and sand, while serving to keep the interiors moist. Their faces were very humanoid – or Prime it was called within the Expansion – with tiny noses and wide mouths. One of the natives was grinning at Adam, with double rows of filthy, misaligned and decaying teeth now fully exposed.

  Adam reserved judgment as to whether this was a combat challenge or not, at least until he learned the instinctive tendencies of the natives.

  The Unissling leader stepped up to Adam. “Welcome to Uniss-3, Traveler,” he said pleasantly enough. “What is your business here?”

  Adam didn’t want any trouble. It was obvious this group did not operate in any official capacity, but all he wanted was to pay the ransom and get off the planet with the Speaker.

  “I’m just a courier, here to pick up a package,” Adam replied, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible.

  “Ah, and what is this package you must pick up? Is it valuable?”

  “I have no idea. I was just told to come here and pick it up.”

  “From where are you to pick up this package?”

  “I have coordinates, nothing more. I will be guided there.”

  The Unissling leader nodded emphatically, while looking past Adam at the sleek, new hull of the Phoenix. “This is a very impressive ship you have here, for a simple courier. You must know there is an arrival tax that is owed? Have you been informed?”

  “No, I have not.” So here it comes.

  “But of course there is. How else could we afford to keep our beautiful spaceport up to the high standards expected by Travelers such as you? I’m sure you and your crew must visit the finest spaceports throughout the galaxy in such an impressive vessel as you have. So how many are in your crew?”

  “Only me.”

  “So your ship is not only beautiful to behold, but also very advanced – my compliments.”

  “Thanks,” Adam said dryly. “So how much is this tax?” He just wanted to pay it and get on his way. He was sure the Formilians would reimburse him for any out-of-pocket expenses.

  The alien leader turned to one of his cohorts and took a small datapad from him. The corners of Adam’s mouth began to curl up slightly. They were at least trying to make it look official.

  “Well, I see here that your situation is very unique,” the gravelly-voiced alien began. “Normally, the tax for an arriving ship would only be eight-thousand credits. Yet I see here that a recent amendment to the tax schedule has also added a surcharge for the age of the vessel. Seeing that this vessel is new – or newer – the tax has now been increased to fifty-thousand credits.”

  “Fifty-thousand, that’s ridiculous! I don’t have many credits with me—”

  “But I’m not done,” the alien interrupted. “I also see here that the fee is also based on the number of crew the vessel carries.”
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  “I said it’s only one, so that should get me a discount, right?” Adam said sternly. Even as he spoke he began to study the location and special alignment of the aliens. He saw where this was heading.

  “On the contrary, Traveler, it appears that certain union organizations have assessed a penalty to those ships not carrying a full complement of union crewmembers. I take it you are not a member of the Starfarer’s Union?”

  Adam pursed his lips before spitting out: “Nope.”

  The bombastic alien turned to his fellow natives. “Our Traveler here appears to have maxed out his arrival tax.” He turned back to Adam, the smile now slowly vanishing from his face. Without looking down at the datapad, he said, “It is my duty to inform you that the tax has now increased to an amount equal the total value of your ship, Traveler, yet before you protest, there is a bonus being offered today – and for today only.”

  Adam didn’t have time for this; he had a Supreme Celebrant to rescue. “And what is this bonus?”

  “It says that if you, Traveler, will provide the access code to the ship, we are allowed to spare the life of the pilot. This is a special offer only afforded to those aboard single-person starships. I’m quite surprised at the generosity of the … officials who have set the fees.”

  “You want the access code to the ship and then I can walk away free?”

  “That is the offer. I suggest you take it.” The humorous charade had now past; the alien was looking down at Adam with an amused, yet hardened glare, confident in his position before the smallish, pink-skinned creature.

  “All right, I’ll give you the code,” Adam began. “Are you ready? It’s one-eight-hundred, eat-shit.”

  Even though the translation bug recalled the remark as consume feces, it still came off as a defiant insult to the Unisslings. Not really expecting Adam to comply, the aliens were already going for their weapons by the time the translation was complete.

  But Adam was also ready, and before a single alien MK-17 had cleared its holster, Adam already had his out and being brought to bear on the lead alien. A blue bolt of electricity popped out of the barrel and struck the alien point-blank in the chest. The hot ball of energy penetrated the creature’s clothing and his skin, and then the electrical charge spread throughout the chest cavity, burning organs and severing nerve endings. The alien fell to the dusty ground a moment later, his lifeless body still twitching from the spasms of electricity coursing through it.

  Next Adam took aim at the flash rifle operator on the transport. His shot was true, striking the creature directly in the face. What happened next was just a blur. In rapid succession, Adam sent bolts into two more of the Unisslings.

  By the time he was finished, the fifth and remaining alien had begun to run, heading for the exit to the spaceport. Adam looked around at the bodies of the four aliens on the ground, and satisfied that none were still alive, he took off after the lone survivor.

  In the gravity of Uniss-3, Adam would have been ranked as the fastest creature on the planet. He caught up with the surviving pirate in just a few seconds, and grabbing him by the back of his shirt, lifted him from the ground as they both ran along. Then Adam stopped, still holding the taller alien off the ground. The Unissling had his weapon still in his hand, but he didn’t even think to use it.

  Adam tossed his captive to the ground and stood over him, his own MK-17 held defiantly to his side. “Do you have a mate?” Adam asked.

  The alien’s eyes grew wide, confused by the question. “Do you have mates, a family?” Adam asked again.

  The creature nodded nervously. “Yes, I have several mates, why?”

  “Any offspring, children?”

  “I have three sons.”

  “Any daughters?”

  “Why?”

  “Just answer the question!”

  “There have been two born of my mates. But they do not count as offspring.”

  “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 op
enings 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.