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

by T. R. Harris

  The victory on the part of the Humans was utterly overwhelming. Even though a few massive barrages of energy-weapon fire had taken out forty-one of the Human’s nearly five thousand ships, not a single one of the Kracori defenders escaped.

  On the Juirean side of the ledger, they had suffered close to six hundred casualties compared to four hundred eighteen Kracori losses. The remainder of the Kracori defenders bolted in-system to form up with the over three thousand ships now gathering there.

  Jacob Nash shook his head as the final casualty totals came in. Admiral Christian Bergmann mirrored Nash’s worried look.

  “Damn, Admiral,” Bergmann said. “If the full Kracori and Juirean fleets had come together as planned, the Juireans would have got their asses kicked.”

  “And without the Cain Drive, the same might have happened to us.”

  That was a comment Bergmann did not wish to make, although he completely agreed with his commander. However, they did have the new gravity drive, and it had made a startling difference in the battle.

  “The Juireans are bound to lose their entire force in the next battle,” Bergmann said. “Although they’ll take a lot of the Kracori with them, there won’t be much of them left.”

  “That will make our victory even more of a guarantee, Chris,” Nash said. “I see that the Kracori are forming up near their sister world of Olypon. I guess they expect us to chase them around the planet for a while.”

  “We could head straight for Elision. That’ll force them to send their defenders that way.”

  Nash smiled. “Should we let the Juireans have the first crack at Elision, seeing what happened to Juir?”

  “Hell no, sir!” Heads turned on the bridge at Bergmann’s outburst. “Our death toll was higher and more recent. We have to be the first to set fire to that hell of a planet.”

  “I was just testing you, Chris,” Nash said, not losing his smile. “Of course we’re going in first. I’ll send the Juireans against Olypon. That’ll keep them occupied as we draw first blood on Elision. Relay the orders to the Juireans, Admiral, and then form up the fleet. Next stop: Elision.”

  Having to cut back on their speed to accommodate the much slower Juirean starships, the allied fleet was still ten hours out from Elision when Admiral Nash and his Juirean counterpart, Overlord Oplim, received word of an emergency CW–link coming in from the planet they were approaching. It was the Langril Nomar Polimic, attempting to make contact with the fleet.

  Nash had the link piped through to the Wardroom, where he, Admiral’s Bergmann, and Tobias and Captain Adam Cain were all having dinner. The Langril would be projected on a large screen mounted on the wall, while a smaller secondary screen showed the image of the Juirean Overlord.

  When all was ready, Nash nodded to a petty officer to initiate the link.

  Nomar Polimic was seated at a desk devoid of objects on its surface, and to his right stood a tall, hard-looking Kracori officer with a pale yellow sash across his chest. Adam had seen white sashes and purple sashes, but never a pale yellow one. The color had to be significant.

  Adam smiled when he saw the Fleet Admiral take another forkful of mash potatoes into his mouth before looking up to address the leader of the Kracori race.

  “You must be Polimic,” Nash said as he finally set down the fork and leaned back in his chair so he could look up at the monitor on the wall.

  There was a slight pause as Nomar opened and then closed his mouth, not sure what to do about the blatant lack of formality and respect in the greeting. He eventually chose to let it pass; he was in no position to protest too loudly.

  “That I am; Nomar Polimic, Langril of the Kracori people. And with me is Command-Tactician Galix Junin, the head of our military forces.”

  “I’m Fleet Admiral Jacob Nash, and I have Overlord Oplim ra Duric representing the Juirean forces also on the link. Are you seeing that?”

  “Yes I am. Yet where is Elder Wydor and his fleet commander? I would expect them to be on this link, seeing it is with a planetary head-of-state.”

  “Elder Wydor and Command-Overlord Enulic are on another, more important, mission,” Oplim replied. “They are currently in the process of destroying the Klin colony we discovered hiding within the Dysion Void.”

  “Klin ... in the Void?”

  Adam had to admit, if Nomar did know of the Klin’s existence so close to Elision, he gave an Oscar-worthy performance of acting like he didn’t.

  “That ... that is not possible,” Nomar stammered. He looked to the other Kracori in the room. “We have surveyed the entire Void. It is our home. How could we have not known of this?”

  “Nevertheless, they’re here—or at least they are for now,” Admiral Nash said. “Twenty-five hundred Juirean warships are about to make a meal out of them. I find it hard to believe you were not aware of the presence of your real allies right here in your own backyard.”

  Adam could see Nomar switch his gaze to that of the Juirean Overlord. “The Klin are not our allies. I once believed it to be the Juireans who held that honor.”

  “From what Elder Wydor tells me, we were your masters, never your allies—for as brief a time as that agreement was in effect.”

  Adam moved over closer to the Admiral, just to make sure that Nomar could see him on the screen. The move had the desired effect, as the Kracori’s expression suddenly went from shock to that of sour, rock-hard defiance.

  “Howdy, Nomar, how’s it hanging?” Adam said with a wide grin.

  “Greetings, Adam Cain,” the Langril said, his tone rough and the effort to speak like pulling teeth. “I see you have once again eluded me.”

  “Are you familiar with the phrase, three strikes and you’re out? No, of course you’re not. It means that you’ve failed twice before—but there won’t be a third time in your case.” The smile vanished from Adam’s face.

  “Perhaps.” Nomar turned his attention to the fleet admiral. “Admiral Nash, I have come to terms with the fact that the Juireans have switched allegiances and now side with the Humans. That is very unfortunate.”

  “For the Kracori,” Nash punctuated the statement.

  “Yes, for the Kracori. And that is the purpose of this overture. My forces are no match for the combined strength of both your fleets ... therefore I have no option but to offer our unconditional surrender to the superior forces of the Human-Juirean alliance.”

  “You seem to have a habit of surrendering, Kracori,” Overlord Oplim said with venom. “At this point, it appears to be strategy rather than a true capitulation.”

  “I assure you it is not,” said Nomar, an anxious tone to his voice. He was beginning to panic. “I am a pragmatic ruler, and I see no other option. And as an offer of goodwill, I will surrender my position as Langril immediately.”

  “You will say and do anything to save your race, Polimic,” Admiral Nash said.

  “That is correct! You would do the same, Admiral Nash. I am prepared to offer you anything you desire for your acceptance of my offer. Anything!”

  Adam watched as Nash cocked his head to his right and cast his eyes to the overhead, as if in thought. Then he looked back at the alien while nodding and pursing his lips. “I accept your offer, Langril Nomar Polimic.”

  Adam’s heart skipped a beat at the Admiral’s words; he didn’t know what kept him from blurting out a protest. Yet there was something in Nash’s manner that made him hold back....

  “You accept?” Nomar seemed as surprised as Adam. “You accept! That is most welcome news.” He turned to his stoic companion and smiled.

  “I accept your offer of anything in return for my acceptance,” Nash said, interrupting Nomar’s revelry.

  “Yes ... anything, Admiral Nash!”

  “Then to save your race from immediate extinction, all you have to do is bring back to life the billion-and-a-half dead Humans that your recent attack on Earth has caused ... and then I will spare your planet.”

  Nomar’s mouth fell open, and even across the
trillions of miles of the CW-link, Adam saw the Langril go pale. “You cannot be serious? You know I am not capable of that!”

  “Then maybe you should have thought of that before you dropped nukes on my planet.”

  ‘But I am offering our complete and unconditional surrender. Are you telling me you would still proceed to destroy an entire race of intelligent beings when you are not required to, simply for revenge?”

  Admiral Nash smiled and turned his head toward Adam. “And Captain Cain here said you weren’t that smart. Yes, Polimic, that is exactly what I’m saying.” The humor vanished from Nash’s face and tone. He leaned in a little closer toward the big screen. “The Kracori are going die today, and by my hand. You sick, spineless, evil creatures don’t deserve to inhabit the galaxy. There is nothing—I repeat—nothing you can say or do to keep me from fulfilling my mission.”

  Just then, the quiet Command-Tactician pulled an MK-17 flash weapon from his holster, and then without hesitation placed a level-one bolt through the head of Langril Nomar Polimic. A small cloud of smoke rose from the area around the desk where his head fell, in full view of all those watching on their monitors.

  Adam was stunned, as were all the others in the Wardroom. It took a moment for Admiral Nash to recover. “That doesn’t change anything,” he said to the expressionless Kracori military officer.

  “That I realize, Admiral Nash,” said the Command-Tactician. “That was something I wished to do for myself, before either he—or you—had an opportunity.”

  “I am truly sorry it has come to this,” Nash said, “yet debts must be paid. The rabid dog must be put down.”

  “I believe I understand your meaning, Admiral Nash. Yet you should also be warned that as the senior military officer for the Kracori, I will still put up a fierce defense of my planet. We will not succeed, yet we will die as warriors.”

  “As would be expected, Command-Tactician.”

  Nash turned to the other officers in the room, surveying their eyes and expressions. When it was obvious that no one had any additional comments, he turned to Overlord Oplim. “Is there anything you wish to say to the Kracori before I break the link?”

  “It is only this: Juireans now stand upon the surface of Juir once more, and in time all there will be healed. Yet for your complicity in the Klin plan for galactic domination, the Kracori will not recover. Your race will become a footnote in history, yet not totally forgotten. Rather, you will be held up as an example to others who choose the wrong path. And even after the Humans are through ravaging your world, the Juireans will return and salt the ground, set fire to the forests—and as the technology advances—may even someday have the means to blow the entire planet apart so it will not even show as a mark on a stellar survey map.”

  The Juirean shifted his attention back to Admiral Nash. “That is all I have to say.”

  Nash was stunned, and for a moment said nothing, staring at the blank expression on the face of the blue-haired Juirean Overlord. Eventually, he nodded to the petty officer and all the links were cut.

  Nash then turned to an equally stunned Adam Cain and said, “Remind me never to make the Juireans mad again. They don’t only bury their enemy, but they literally piss on their graves and then blow up the graveyard!”

  128

  The buffeting was almost too much to take. Wesselian Velsum held onto the armrests of his seat, barely able to keep from flying out. The huge pod ships were not built for radical maneuvers, and therefore had very few seats with buckles or restraints. But now, as his ship fought through the unrelenting maelstrom of the Dysion Shield, he knew that this particular pod was doomed. Already fires raged throughout, and hull integrity had been breached in more areas than could be counted. At any moment, the weakened surface of the great spaceship would lose the strength required to contain the atmospheric pressure from within, and the craft would explode, just as pod Fifteen had done not more than five minutes before.

  The savage Juireans had unceremoniously destroyed eight of his pods while they were still within the Dysion Void. His other twelve pods had entered the Shield, and Velsum’s only consolation at the end of his life was that three of the Colony had already made it through and into clear space. Surveying the condition of the other nine pods he was saddened to say those three would be the only ones to claim such success.

  Seventy-five thousand survivors out of half-a-million Klin; the loss of so many of his precious Klin brethren was inconceivable. They had fought and struggled for so long for redemption and salvation, and now they were nearly gone, a catastrophic failure of mission and mind.

  A sudden jolt to the left sent Pleabaen Velsum tumbling from his chair. He struck hard against a bulkhead and lay there stunned. There was a thunderous roar that shook the pod to its very core and Velsum could feel the air flowing rapidly over his supine body. In his last moments, before the last breath was pulled from his lungs, he thought of the other Colony, forming yet another silent prayer to the ancestors of Klinmon—so long lost and forgotten—to give long life and strength to the few survivors of his Colony, and to the others; their distant brothers. For the legacy of the Klin, they were the last hope.

  129

  Twenty-two days later, the fleet was still in the Dysion Void. Supply ships had arrived, this time entering through the Volseen Corridor unchallenged, and the fleet was now filtering through the Nebula, seeking out the rare pocket of resistance that still existed.

  The Juirean fleet was also in the Void, yet they were preparing to deploy for a journey to a repatriated planet Juir later that day.

  That was when a request for a link from the Juirean Elder came to Adam’s attention.

  “He wants to talk to me?” the bewildered Navy captain asked.

  “That’s what he said, sir.” This was the first CW-link the young petty officer third class had ever received from a Juirean. He was in a mild state of shock.

  “Where can I take it?”

  “I can patch it into your stateroom.”

  “Okay; let’s do it.”

  The E-4 fingered his datapad and then beat a hasty retreat from the stateroom; aliens gave him the creeps.

  The screen above Adam’s small in-cabin desk came to life. The large head of the Juirean Elder appeared, his great white mane rising up from his bronze forehead and then cascading down his back. Piecing blue eyes stared unblinking back at him.

  “Elder Wydor, this is unexpected,” Adam said as he slipped into a chair in front of the monitor.

  “We are preparing to depart and I wanted to take this opportunity to speak with you—privately.”

  “I’m honored—I think.”

  Adam swore he saw a glimmer of a smile cross the alien’s face. “Even though our meetings have been brief and separated by many years, they have been meaningful and have come at pivotal times in the histories of our two races.”

  Adam remained silent, letting the Juirean guide the conversation. After all, they were talking on his dime.

  “I recall the valiant attempt you made to save the life of my friend and mentor, the former Elder Hydon. For that I offer you my appreciation.”

  “Unfortunately, that didn’t work out as planned.”

  “At no fault of your own, Adam Cain. And now you have brokered an unlikely alliance between the two most-powerful entities in the galaxy, helping guide our races to meaningful redemptions in the process. Again I offer you my appreciation.”

  Adam frowned. Something wasn’t quite right. “My Lord, I get the impression you’re trying to prepare me for something.”

  “You are prescient as ever, Adam Cain. You are correct, and I hope you realize that I say this with the utmost respect for you and your race. But this matter is not settled; this rivalry between the Juireans and Humans. I do not mean this as a threat, but as a simple statement of fact. Our two races possess a drive within us to always be growing, always seeking new challenges to conquer. Each, in own way, have a galaxy to conquer, which will eventually pit our two race
s against each other once more. It may not come in our lifetimes—I sincerely hope not; there has been too much fighting already. Yet eventually the empire of the Juireans will meet the empire of the Humans, and there will be a reckoning. As a race of warriors—to another race of warriors—I can say I could not ask for a more-worthy opponent than the Humans. And you, Adam Cain, I have found to the worthiest of them all.”

  Adam’s mouth had slowly fallen open as the Elder spoke. Now he snapped it shut, hoping that the blush on his cheeks was not evident through the transmission. “Elder Wydor, I don’t know what to say, but I will bow to your expertise in these matters. And knowing Human nature as I do, I have no doubt that what you say is true. Before mankind took to the stars, we had dominated every environment on our planet. And when that wasn’t enough, we dominated each other. Maybe that’s just the force of nature in all living creatures, to grow, spread and dominate. Unfortunately, when you get to our level of technology, that domination can have dire consequences. But I do agree with you, Lord Wydor, there has been too much fighting.”

  Wydor narrowed his eyes at Adam, as he saw a cloud come over Adam’s face. “I sense your war is not over, Adam Cain.”

  “Now it’s your turn to be prescient,” Adam said, forcing a smile. “Justice hasn’t been done for some of the people I’ve known. Not yet”

  “I hope that cause for justice does not involve another clash with the Juireans?”

  “No, it doesn’t. As a matter of fact, this one concerns another Human.”

  “Nigel McCarthy,” Wydor stated without question.

  “That’s correct. That bastard managed to get away, and with the help of my ex-friend Kroekus of Silea.”

  Again Wydor frowned. “Is this true?”

  “Yep, and he even was helping the Kracori to defeat you. Seems he liked being boss of the galaxy, and a resurgent Juirean race was a definite threat to his position.”