by T. R. Harris
“What about security in and around the building?”
“Not as much as would be found on Earth, but still a fair amount of guards and electronic surveillance. Even though they’re gearing up for a major dustup, expecting a raid like this has to be the furthest thing from their mind.”
“That’s what we’re counting on,” Adam said. “How close can we land to the prison?”
“About half a klick. Unfortunately, that’s half a klick in normal gravity and with full gear.” McCarthy then paused to take a critical look at the four SEALs seated behind him in the shuttle. “And for a bunch of out of shape and over-the-hill senior citizens.”
“Speak for yourself, asshole!” Master Chief Geoffrey Rutledge barked out. “I’m still twice the killing machine you ever were.”
“Relax, Chief. Save some of that bloody temper for the aliens.”
McCarthy turned back to the controls just as he pulled the nose up on the shuttle and began to settle down on a concrete landing pad in a cloud of white chemical exhaust. There were a dozen other shuttles occupying the landing zone, along with ten or so ground units. Off in the distance, clear of the landing exhaust, fifteen to twenty Kracori could be seen performing various duties around the sitting craft. They didn’t pay any attention to the new shuttle that just landed.
“Ready up!” Adam called out, and the SEALs unbuckled and began to move to the rear of the shuttle and the airlock door.
Sherri, can you hear me?
Eh, yeah, came the ethereal reply within Adam’s mind. This is freaky. We can only do this through communication systems?
Correct, otherwise we wouldn’t have to say a word, just do everything through telepathy.
I wouldn’t like that. I like the sound of my own voice too much.
Adam smiled slightly, the expression hidden in the shadows of his helmet and the dimness of the shuttle’s airlock. Are Trimen and the Formilians ready?
Just waiting for your go.
Adam peeled back the Velcro cover over his diver’s watch and watched the secondhand sweep towards the zenith. Then mark thirty seconds from … now.
Done. Keep me up-to-date. I’m going to be a nervous wreck from here on out.
Roger that. Cain out.
Adam looked up at the anxious faces looking at him, each covered with streaks of green and black grease. ‘Goggles down,” he commanded, and the night-vision monoculars were slipped down, obscuring the determined faces even more, while giving his team an alien look of their own. He nodded to John Tindal at the control panel for the airlock hatch.
“We go in ten ... eight ... four, three, two, one—go!”
Tindal fingered the controls and the panel slide away, revealing a pitch-black landscape outside. The lights that had flooded the landing zone—as well as the massive complex of buildings making up the Citadel—had all gone dark, as had the entire surrounding neighborhood. A few of the Kracori off in the distance held working flashlights. But the natives seemed more concerned with the area surrounding them than in the activity near a distant shuttle.
The team poured out of the shuttle and made their way to the spacecraft nearest their shuttle, staying low and quiet as they moved. The greenish glow from the goggles lit up the landing zone in vivid detail, even in the darkness, and soon Adam and his team were hopscotching from cover to cover, moving ever-closer to the border of the landing zone and a small wall signifying the boundary to the Citadel property.
With no natural enemies on their homeworld, or even any alien visitors to speak of, security surrounding the Citadel was surprisingly loose. The wall around the complex was only about six feet tall, and a simple boost assist soon had the five-member team over and crouched on the other side watching for signs of detection.
Seconds later, McCarthy led them across a dark, empty patch of land about fifty yards wide, making it to the side of the smallish dome he had indicated where the prison was located.
In unison, the team suddenly dropped to the cool, moist ground as a door opened near them and two Kracori stepped outside. In absolute silence they lay as the two natives proceeded to scan the scene outside, mumbling something about the blackout. One pointed as a nearby section of the city gained power, just as another that had been illuminated suddenly went dark. They seemed thoroughly perplexed at the randomness of the blackout, just as Adam had hoped. If only the Citadel had lost power it would have raised too much suspicion and pinpointed where the Kracori needed to concentrate their attention.
When the two Kracori showed no urgency to reenter the building, Adam caught the attention of Chief Rutledge and Petty Officer Tindal. He motioned with his hand, two fingers and then a cutting motion. The two former SEALs turned to their targets, took aim, and simultaneously let loose with single shots from their suppressed M4 carbine rifles. The muted poofs could barely be heard above the insect noises of the night.
The team jumped to their feet and scrambled to the open doorway; the interior was dark indicating that no emergency lighting was operating in this section of the building. Flanking the entrance, Tindal and Rutledge did a quick look-see inside. Rutledge turned to Adam and nodded. Quietly, Adam darted through the doorway, followed closely by McCarthy, Tobias and then lastly Rutledge and Tindal.
They were in a small anteroom with several desks and darkened computer monitors. The goggles provided an eerie image yet showed the room to be empty of Kracori. Adam looked to McCarthy. “Take lead,” he whispered.
Nigel sent him a confirming nod and moved toward the solitary door leading from the room. It was hinged and he slowly opened it to reveal a wide hallway running off in opposite directions. He moved into the corridor and turned to his right; the rest of the team followed with Tindal taking up the six position, spending most of his time looking back down the corridor in the other direction, his hand resting on Admiral Tobias’s back.
There were voices coming from within the building, their tone sounding more annoyed than alarmed. Adam stretched out with his ATD and detected literally dozens of flash weapons, all charged and ready, yet none appeared to be moving it their direction. In fact, most were stationery, their owners apparently waiting in the darkness for the lights to come back on.
McCarthy came to a wider-than-normal doorway and paused. “This should be a larger waiting area outside the prison section,” he whispered to Adam. “I don’t detect any flash weapons present. With most Kracori in this part of the building armed, I’m hoping that means the room is empty. We’ll use it as a staging area if it is. I’ll go first.”
He twisted the handle to the door and opened it a couple of feet, just enough for him to peer through. He looked both ways with his night-vision goggles and then turned back to Adam. “Clear,” he said. He then moved inside and turned to his right.
Adam followed, and a second later the entire team had entered the room. From what he could see the room was empty, with a series of four-foot-high partitions forming a semi-circle in front of them. The hair began to rise on the back on his neck ... just as floodlights suddenly filled the room with blinding light.
Adam and his team peeled off their goggles, but by then the damage was done. It took another couple of seconds for their eyes to adjust to the light. And what they saw when eyesight returned sent their spirits crashing.
An entire line of Kracori soldiers had revealed themselves from behind the partitions, holding what appeared to be projectile weapons aimed directly at them. Adam quickly scanned the line of massive gray aliens until his vision focused on Nigel McCarthy, standing at the end of the line next to a purple-sashed Kracori, his goggles up, a sinister grin on his freckled face.
“Game over, Mr. Cain,” McCarthy said. There was movement in the corridor, and five more Kracori entered behind Adam and his men, each carrying the same kind of projectile device. Since this kind of weapon didn’t rely on electronics to operate, Adam had been unable to detect them with his ATD. It also meant that the Kracori knew they were coming and how to prevent detection.
>
His blood began to boil and he took a quick step towards McCarthy. The Brit raised his own M4 and placed the barrel firmly against Adam’s chest. His Kevlar vest would have probably stopped a round from the weapon, even at this distance, but it would definitely crack a number of ribs, and might even stop his heart. Adam stopped in his tracks.
“Don’t do anything foolish ... any of you,” McCarthy said. “The Kracori want you all alive, at least for now.”
“You rotten, traitorous asshole!” Andy Tobias yelled. “You’ve done it again.”
“I believe it was you, Admiral, who said it best: I wouldn’t be welcomed back on Earth, no matter what I do here. So you see, my future lies elsewhere, and the Kracori have been kind enough to offer me ample financial support for my new endeavors.” He then leaned in closer to the red-faced, wide-eyed leader of the team. “Did you really expect me to help you Cain? You’ve been fucking with me for years. Now it seems that your life is worth a lot of money. The Kracori have long memories, and it’s funny, but they blame you for their loss of Juir and of their bloody Legend in the eyes of the galaxy. It seems like everywhere you go entire races come to hate and despise you. It’s a singular talent of yours, it seems.”
“The same for you, McCarthy!” Adam spit out.
Dozens of huge Kracori soldiers suddenly swarmed over the team, jerking away their weapons and pulling the packs from off their backs. In a panic, Adam thought of Sherri.
Sherri, get away! McCarthy’s fucked us again! he mentally cried out through his ATD.
A group of Kracori knocked him to the ground and pinned his arms to the floor while McCarthy stepped forward and placed a boot against his neck. He bent down while pulling out a black-bladed commando knife and cut away the tac vest on Adam’s left side. “Turn him on his side,” McCarthy instructed the Kracori. And then he reached down and felt the skin under Adam’s armpit.
Adam knew what was coming, and he struggled against the force of the Kracori. These aliens were just as strong as Humans, and his attempt to break free failed miserably.
“Relax, mate,” McCarthy said as he felt the cigarette-long bump under Adam’s skin signifying the location of his ATD. “This is going to hurt like a bitch.” McCarthy then proceeded to slice open Adam’s skin along the line of the bump; Adam grit his teeth but refused to cry out, not giving McCarthy the sadistic satisfaction he was hoping for. But then when he reached inside the incision, grabbed the ATD with his fingers and pulled, Adam let out a guttural moan that brought a wide grin to McCarthy’s face. The Brit then threw the small metallic device to the floor and stomped a heavy boot upon it, smashing it to pieces.
Suddenly Adam felt nauseous, not only from the pain of the cut but also from the loss of contact with the ATD. He struggled to keep his mind focused, to keep from blacking out. It was to no avail, especially when McCarthy raised his boot again and brought it down swiftly to the side of Adam’s head.
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Sherri Valentine recoiled from the intensity of the words exploding in her mind. She wasn’t used to telepathic communications, and especially not of this intensity. But the burst of words only lasted a moment, and then all went quiet, a particularly deep quiet that made her uneasy.
Get away! McCarthy’s fucked us again!
Adam! What do you mean ... are you there?
When only silence prevailed, Sherri began to panic. She turned to Trimen who had noticed her head jerk when Adam’s message first came through.
“We have to get out of here,” she said forcefully. “Adam says McCarthy’s fuc—betrayed us again.”
Trimen and Sherri were in the comm room of the Volseen ship, along with five of the other Formilians, all silently manipulating power-grids on the surface of the planet below. Two other Formilians were on the bridge of the ship.
Trimen pressed a button on the console in front of him. “Galemous, do you have any contacts closing on our location?”
“Yes, several. Large ones as well,” came the immediate reply.
“Break orbit and begin evasive maneuvers,” Trimen commanded. “I am proceeding to the landing bay.”
He stood and grabbed Sherri by the arm. “We must evacuate the ship immediately,” he stated calmly as they left the comm room.
“What about the rest of your men—I mean your Formilians?”
“They will provide us cover.”
“We’re going to leave them?”
“I am the Second Celebrant. My position must survive. They will do what they must to protect me.”
“And you’re okay with this?” Sherri allowed herself to be pulled along by the weaker alien, even as she expressed disbelief at what she was hearing.
“Of course,” Trimen answered. “My position is more important than their lives. They know that and it is accepted. Please stop thinking in Human terms, Sherri.”
She was silent the rest of the way to the landing bay, but when they entered and headed for one of the escape pods she found her voice again. “They’ll detect us leaving.”
“We will wait until the ship is taking fire and on the verge of being destroyed, then we will become part of the debris field from the exploding ship. My comrades will detonate the ship when we are ready.”
She didn’t know what to say. The other seven Formilians were about to commit suicide to protect their Second Celebrant, the second-highest male ranking in the Order of Life and Light on the planet Formil. Sherri thought this probably wasn’t too different from Secret Service agents protecting the President—when there was a president. She allowed herself to be placed inside the small capsule as Trimen guided the tiny craft towards an escape portal.
Trimen toggled a comm switch in the small pod. “Galemous, we are in position. Increase the pressure in the landing bay. When the time comes we will use the expelling atmosphere to eject us from the ship. I am powering down now.”
“Yes, my Lord. May Mislin and Sufor guide your light.”
“Acknowledged.”
Sherri was stunned by the complete lack of emotion in the conversation, and yet she was grateful that she had been included in Trimen’s determination to survive, if only to preserve his rank within the Order. Yet as she sat in the near-darkness of the pod, illuminated now only by the feeble light entering through the solitary porthole, she sought to make sense of Adam’s last message. She kept trying to make contact with him, and when that failed, she tried the others in the team. Nothing came back.
If McCarthy had betrayed them to the Kracori, then all was lost. They were four Humans on a planet of angry and bloodthirsty aliens, aliens with a particular dislike for Humans. They had walked into a trap, and now would suffer the same fate as Riyad—and with the Juireans only days away from reaching the Nebula.
Tears began to escape from her eyes when the reality of the situation hit her ... and when the emotions became too much to contain, she began to sob loudly.
Trimen placed a hand on her leg. “The mission was problematic from the beginning, Sherri,” he said in a feeble Formilian attempt to calm her. “McCarthy has been a rogue element from the beginning, as evidenced by his history with both Formilian and Human. In light of that, these results are not totally unexpected.”
“Just shut up for a minute, Trimen!” Sherri yelled. She didn’t want to be rude to the handsome alien, but his words weren’t helping. “Just let me deal with this in silence—”
Suddenly the ship began to rock violently and they could hear loud drumming sounds coming from all around them. And then came a thunderous boom ... and the tiny pod was shot out into the blackness of space at such a speed that Sherri thought she would be crushed. But soon the acceleration stopped and she found herself experiencing the dizzying effects of weightlessness. Through the tiny porthole, she could see they were tumbling, as shiny metal debris could be seen with each pass of the pod, glittering with yellow and white light. But then the sparkling debris began to separate from the pod, becoming dimmer and harder to see. A few minutes later they were gon
e.
All was dark in the pod, except when the angle was right, Sherri could see a sliver of the planet Elision off in the distance. Without powering up, the pod would remain in the vicinity of the planet, possibly even to be captured by its gravity well resulting in a fiery freefall to the surface far below. They may be away from what remained of the Volseen ship, but they were far from safe.
Distracted by her need to survive, Sherri had stopped her crying. When the light from the planet appeared again, she could see Trimen sitting emotionless next to her.
“So how long are we going to keep tumbling like this without power?” she asked.
“Until the internal temperature becomes such that we have no choice but to power up or die,” the Formilian answered calmly. “By then we will either be clear of detection, or we will die anyway from the cold. I say another hour or so would be our limit.”
Again, Sherri was amazed at the cold, calculating demeanor of the alien. But he was right. Either they would be clear of the Kracori monitors, or else they will be blown to pieces by flash-cannon when they powered up. The next hour would determine their fate.
Unfortunately, the quiet of the pod gave Sherri plenty of time to ponder the fate of Adam and the rest of her friends on Elision. The reverie allowed the sad realization that all the people she had loved and cared about over the past ten years or more were down on that planet. She suddenly felt very alone.
In the darkness and growing cold, Sherri Valentine didn’t even have the willpower left to be angry at McCarthy. Trimen was right about that, too; something about a tiger and his stripes came to mind. Yes, they should have been expecting this from the beginning.
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