by T. R. Harris
“I’d be willing to stick around for a while longer, just to see for myself.”
Nomar’s train of thought was broken by the alien’s rude interruption. He gathered his thoughts again and continued. “No, that would not be wise, not considering your propensity for pulling victory out of defeat.”
“Yeah, but you’ve laid out your plans so well, so impressively. It would be a shame to not show them off to someone who can truly appreciate them.”
Daninf waved his hand in front of the Human. “That will not happen. You are to die and die soon. It would be foolish for the Langril to allow you to live one moment longer than is necessary.”
Nomar cringed slightly at Daninf’s absolute assertion over the authority of his title. After so many years of having the final say in all Kracori affairs, Nomar could forgive his mentor. However, the decision was Nomar’s to make, not Daninf’s.
“I would like nothing more than to see the look on your face when the Kracori are victorious,” Nomar said. Daninf jerked his head in Nomar’s direction, a look of fiery anger in his eyes.
“You cannot be serious, Polimic?”
The use of Nomar’s minor name, especially in front of an alien, was insulting. Nomar locked his jaw and fought to control his heartbeat. “Forgive me, former-Langril Daninf, but I believe the final decision rests with me.”
“This is Adam Cain! You cannot be considering sparing his life?”
“Of course I am not. All I may consider is a reprieve, only until we have secured victory. Wouldn’t you gain more satisfaction seeing him completely destroyed emotionally, rather than this overconfident persona that has been toying with us this entire session?”
“And that is why he is so dangerous, my Ludif,” Daninf said, finally returning to an address of respect. “Every moment he and his colleagues remain alive they are a potential threat to us.”
“Listen to yourself, Daninf. They are only five Humans on an entire planet of Kracori. And they are a threat to us?”
“History is my guide, Nomar. Leaving them alive, even for a few days longer, could prove to be disastrous.”
Nomar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew that Daninf was growing old, yet he was not aware that paranoia now ruled his mind. The old Kracori had once ruled an entire race of superior warriors, the apex predators of the entire galaxy. Now he was cowering in fear of one frail-looking and injured alien, along with his four associates, one of which could barely walk. This was hardly the actions of a sane Kracori. And it was an insult to the Legend of the Kracori that such fear would be exhibited.
“Daninf, my Ludif, you have more experience with the Human species than do I, and yet the time when the Human fleet roamed the galaxy and the Kracori did the bidding of the Klin is over. We now control our destiny, and all that is transpiring within the Nebula of our design now, not others. I feel compelled now to temporarily spare the lives of the Humans—just to prove you wrong. I cannot accept that this small band of aliens could be a threat to us. I hope this does not cause an irreparable divide between us, but I am granting the stay of execution until the time I see fit to rescind that order.”
Nomar could see that Daninf was beyond angry. He shook in his stance, glaring first at Nomar and then at the Human. The Langril feared that Daninf was about to attack the Human bare-handed, within the Langril’s chambers. His mouth dropped open slightly, as he contemplated what he would do if Daninf struck.
And yet the moment passed. Daninf stopped shaking and he firmed his mouth and jaw. “You are the Langril, at least for now,” Daninf said. “I will obey your directives, even as I fail to respect them.”
“Daninf, your comments are treasonous! How can you say these things to me?”
“I am old, my Ludif. I have witnessed things and had to live with such a tragic loss of Legend as you cannot imagine. And it has all been because of this creature sitting here. I will withdraw my comments and support your decision ... if when the time comes it will be by my hand that Adam Cain dies. Otherwise, I will oppose you with all my power and in all decisions you make.”
“I do not take lightly to threats, Daninf.”
“We have been Ludif-mates for many years, Nomar. You know I do not act unreasonably very often. However, this creature brings out the savage in me. For our legacy, please grant me this one request.”
“Of course, Daninf, you may kill the Humans, yet only when I allow it. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly, my Langril. And after the battle is concluded, and the Humans are dead, I will submit myself to you for whatever punishment you decide is appropriate.”
Nomar stepped up to the old Kracori. “You have let your emotions rule you today. That can be forgiven, at least here and in private. I will not seek retribution. However, I will be on guard to detect any disrespect of my authority and position while in public, and also for any subterfuge should you decide to pursue an undermining of my office.”
“I have held your position myself, Nomar I will not do anything to affect your office. As long as I can put an end to the life of Adam Cain, I will be satisfied.”
Nomar turned to Adam Cain, who had been sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed and an arm propped along the backrest, listening to the argument with an amused grin and a sparkle in his eye. “I am paying a terrible price for allowing you to live for a few days more, yet your continued survival is not a necessity. If I detect even a minor infraction of your imprisonment, I will hand the blade to Daninf myself and delight in his evisceration of your innards. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” Adam Cain answered.
Nomar and Daninf looked at each other again, embarrassed to ask the alien to explain himself further. Rather, Nomar barked out a call to the guards outside the room and the obstinate Human was quickly hauled away. And then with Daninf also out of the room, Nomar collapsed in his chair and took a deep breath. That did not go as I had planned. Not nearly so.
And as he turned to stare out the large glass window in his chambers at the brightening morning sky, he hazarded a passing thought: What other plans of mine will not go as expected?
98
The tiny rescue pod could fit easily within the landing bay of the Pegasus, and once it was securely inside and the atmosphere returned to the chamber, Kaylor, Jym and Sherri had an emotional reunion.
The two aliens also knew Trimen—he had helped supervise the implantation of their ATD’s—and yet they had not become friends. The three aliens acknowledged each other with nods, and then they all turned to stare at Ruszel.
Sherri could see the green-skinned Tel’oran suddenly turn nervous and self-conscious. She walked up to him. “I want to thank you for all the assistance you gave my friend Riyad Tarazi, as well as what you’ve done so far for Kaylor and Jym.”
The alien flinched a bit, but then quickly regained control of his expression. “I ... I welcome your thanks, I suppose. But you do know I am here against my will?”
“That I regret,” Sherri said. “But it’s for a good cause, I assure you. With the turmoil in your Nebula, I’m sure you will find that you’ve joined the winning side in the coming conflict.”
“I did not join any side,” Ruszel stated adamantly. “I am acting only out of self-preservation. Whichever side helps me to that end, I will support.”
Trimen stepped up to Ruszel. “His loyalties are now in question,” the handsome alien said.
“They always have been!” Ruszel exclaimed.
“At least he’s honest,” Sherri said with a grin. “But now we have real work ahead of us. We need to figure out a way of rescuing Adam and the rest of the team from the Kracori. That won’t be easy. But first things first ... I need to pee like a racehorse!”
99
It was a rare event when the Elder of the Juirean Council Elite would accompany an attack fleet on its mission, yet Wydor bin Sulic wasn’t about to miss this engagement. After ten years of hiding in a remote corner of the galaxy, the Juirean people were abou
t to reassert themselves and reclaim that which they had created—the Juirean Expansion. The destruction of the Kracori race was an essential part of that process, and Wydor would witness the glorious event first-hand, as few Elders before him ever had.
For millennia to come, Juirean historians would refer to this particular strike force as the Blood Fleet, a nomenclature chosen by the Council itself to signify the unique composition of its crew.
For the past two thousand years—half the age of the various Juirean empires and Expansions—battle fleets had been crewed by a conglomeration of various alien races, with barely a tenth of the crews consisting of Juireans. With the awesome size of the galaxy and the scarcity of Juirean natives, mixed crews were a necessity.
And yet this fleet was made up entirely of Juireans, one hundred eight thousand of them spread over four thousand ninety-two warships. The massive fleet ranged from the giant Class Six battlecruisers all the way down to tiny two-person attack arrows, designed primarily as guided missiles for suicide runs.
Prior to the current resurgence, the idea of intentionally sending Juireans off to commit suicide in battle would have been unheard of. Yet this mission was of the utmost importance. By obliterating the race of creatures that had wrecked such havoc on the planet Juir, Wydor would be sending a message to the rest of the galaxy that no race challenging the Juireans would go unpunished.
Even now, as the fleet neared the Juddle Nebula, another much smaller fleet was closing on the planet Juir. Their ancestral homeworld was less-guarded than Elision. Intelligence indicated that most of the planet had already been abandoned by the occupying usurpers. Even the interim Administrator of the Expansion—Kroekus of Silea—had relocated his fledgling government to places unknown. Wydor knew that once Juir was back in the hands of his people, the Silean would be found and dealt with, if not because of any actual criminal act he’d committed, but rather for symbolic reasons only.
The Juireans had been chased from their homeworld, as well as from their position of dominance within the galaxy. Now they would return, in force, and show all who doubted them that the Juireans were once again in control.
Wydor was aboard the massive Class Six fleet flagship, the UN-567, doing his best to stay out of the way and let the professionals run the show. Even though he had once been an Overlord he had been out of the war game for so long that he had little confidence in his ability to run a fleet. That task was assigned to Overlord Enulic bu Lornim. Even though the Command-Overlord was only a few standard years younger than Wydor, he had remained within the military service for all his tenure, rather than transferring to the political side of the government, as Wydor had many years before. As such, Enulic’s knowledge and skills with strategy and tactics were more refined and honed. Wydor had every confidence in the success of the mission, especially with Enulic in the command chair.
“Any updates on the Humans,” Wydor asked the Command-Overlord during one of the lulls in the ever-increasing activity on the bridge now that their target destination was in sight.
“Patchy, my Lord,” Enulic replied. “We do know for certain that elements of their fleet attacked and decimated the homeworlds of both the O’mly and the Jusepi Tribes. In a rather uncharacteristic display of brutality, they slaughtered officials and civilians alike.”
“That’s rather disturbing. Is this an indicator of a new philosophy among their leaders?”
“Their world has been attacked twice, my Lord. I believe this is signaling their anger at the loss of Human life. Over time this anger may fade.”
“Would it for us, Enulic? Even during the Kracori attack on the Core Worlds, we did not lose as many lives as have the Humans. And now we are intent on committing global genocide on the Kracori for what they did to us.”
Enulic stretched out a thin smile. “Better us than the Humans. The psychological effect this single act will have on the Expansion will be significant. It is fortunate that we shall beat the Humans to Elision.”
“Yet still no trace of the main Human fleet?”
“No, my Lord. This is odd, but they are not where they should be.”
“And you are still confident we shall beat them to Elision?”
“The distances are just too great. We know when the fleet departed Earth, yet once underway, we lost contact. Even still, they are three to four months away.”
“And we enter the Nebula tomorrow. If the Humans did manage to reach the area before us, we would have known by now.”
“Precisely, my Lord. I feel we do not have anything to fear from the Humans.”
“And the Kracori?”
“There appears to be more activity coming from within the Nebula than we had anticipated. They may have enlisted the help of others from within the region.”
“Are you concerned?”
“A little. It is my job to be concerned, and not to be overconfident. Undoubtedly the battle will be fierce and confined to the region of space near the Volseen Corridor. Yet once the location of Elision was determined to be within ancient charted territory—at least for Juireans—we have been able to better prepare a battle plan. This Shield of theirs will pose a problem, yet our forces are great ... and we do have Juireans at all controls. That has not been seen in a very long time.”
Wydor nodded and then gazed out at the brilliant glow of the Juddle Nebula now filling the entire forward viewport. “I have confidence in our skills, Command-Overlord. However, it has been many years since we have assumed such responsibility within an attack force.”
“Do you doubt our competence, my Lord?”
“Only a small fraction of the personnel within the fleet have seen any real combat in space. We can drill all we wish, and run simulations until the screens burn out, yet there is no substitute for experience.”
Command-Overlord Enulic stepped out of his command seat and moved up next to the Elder. “I would respectfully request that you do not speak of your doubts within earshot of the bridge crew. It would not do for the Council Elder to express his lack of confidence in our proficiency.”
“Calm yourself, Enulic. I am not questioning the outcome of the battle, just stating that this will be a time when tens of thousands of Juirean Guards will earn their campaign marks. This will be good for them. It will harden them for the future, as we reassert our will across the Expansion.”
“We will do our jobs, Elder Wydor. In less than seventeen standard hours we should be reaching their forward defenses. We will use whatever means necessary to defeat the Kracori. And then it will be on to Earth, where we will end our societal nightmare once and for all. No enemy of the Juireans shall remain intact. This is my pledge to you and to the Council.”
Wydor had no doubt that the Command-Overlord believed what he was saying, and yet Wydor knew the Humans better than most. He had personally met the warrior Adam Cain and had even expressed the misguided belief that Juireans and Human may one day become tacit allies, if not respected neighbors.
Yet the time spent sequestered in the bowels of the galaxy had hardened Wydor’s resolve and crystalized his thinking. The Juireans could leave no major force intact within the galaxy. History had proven time and again that rivals do not remain passive forever. Eventually a change of regime or attitude would sweep through the Human species and they would once again become a threat to the Juireans and to the Expansion. It was better to settle the issue now, while the fleet was strong and battle-ready, rather than wait for the Humans to dictate the timetable.
And yet Wydor also knew that both the Kracori and the Humans were unique within the family of species found in the galaxy. However, even as they had superior physical strength, quickness and agility, those traits were lost when ensconced within a metal starship, subject to the same destructive forces as normal creatures. No, Elder Wydor would not wish to confront a Human or a Kracori in physical combat, but he would engage them using the technology of the fleet. After all, an exploding starship would kill all occupants within the vessel, be they Juirean, Kr
acori ... or even Human.
100
Adam was upset to see that John’s body had been removed by the Kracori before he’d had a chance at one more look upon his friend, teammate and brother-in-arms. He had played the Kracori as best he could, yet the tragic death of John Tindal was still only minutes old at the time of the meeting. It was all he could do at the time to remain in control of his emotions, especially when the subject of Nigel McCarthy came up.
Once back in the cell, Adam quickly updated the remaining sad and stern-faced Humans in the cell. They would have a few more days—at the most—to devise another escape plan. Fortunately, Nigel McCarthy would be gone off-planet, so it would only be Kracori perceptions and precautions they would have to contend with. But now the Kracori were even more on guard, and the Langril—Nomar something or another—wasn’t going to let them get away with any sort of overt disobedience. The other, older Kracori was chomping at the bit to take a blade to them all. So whatever plan they did come up they’d only have one chance to pull it off. Succeed ... or die.
Ain’t that how it always worked when it came to SEALs and their missions?
Master Chief Rutledge was especially distraught over Tindal’s death. They had shared a special bond, that of musicians and performers, as well as many more recent years together during a more tranquil time in their lives of challenge and adventure. The good thing about the Chief’s current emotional state: it made him even more focused on escaping. Adam had seen the old sailor operate for years, and he knew Rutledge didn’t let events control him; he controlled events. And he was even more determined than ever to control his way right off the planet Elision—and in pursuit of Nigel McCarthy.