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

by T. R. Harris

  "Over there! There he is!"

  The English voices were close, and he felt the heat from a powerful flash bolt whiz past his head. It was a Level-One, so the Humans were close—and he knew their aim would be true the closer they got.

  Going for broke, Adam leapt in the light gravity that currently enveloped the Goliath, sailing ten feet through the air toward the large lever. He landed hard on top of the console, just as another flash bolt burned a six-inch diameter hole in the equipment bank only a few inches from his head. Sparks and shrapnel flew off the wall, landing on his face and setting off a number of painful burns.

  But then Adam grabbed the lever and shoved it upwards—up for more gravity, right?

  Wrong! He suddenly felt his stomach rise up into his throat and found the action on the lever had sent his now weightless body crashing back into the console.

  He heard whoops and hollering behind him as a dozen aliens—along with a couple of Humans—all lost their footing and leverage. Many were now suspended in midair, flailing about and trying to reach any handhold they could.

  Still holding onto the lever, Adam now stood on the console and began to press down on the controller. He braced himself with his left hand to keep from lifting off the console, but then his weight increased...and increased...and increased.

  He heard bodies thump to the metal deck but didn't bother to look. Instead he kept pressing down, until the thumps had turned to painful moans. And then he pressed a little more.

  Adam felt like he was carrying two hundred pounds on his shoulders when he finally let go of the lever. He struggled to climb down from the console, feeling every muscle in his body crying out in anguish. This was more than he was used to aboard the Pegasus—way more—and yet he was still able to stagger toward the entrance to the generator room.

  All the aliens he passed were on the deck, writhing in slow motion and moaning, while some stared at him with bloodshot eyes. Then he came upon his first Human.

  The man was on his knees and lifting a flash weapon in his direction. Adam sidestepped the aim, and when it went off, the bolt passed harmlessly to his right. He stepped up the man and took the weapon from his hand.

  With incredible effort, the other Human stood up, the veins in his neck bulging from the effort. "This won't stop me," he said defiantly; his eyes were also bloodshot by this time.

  "No, it won't," Adam groaned. "But this will." He clicked the flash weapon to its lowest setting, and he then stepped to the side of the exhausted Human and placed the barrel of the weapon at the base of his neck. He pulled the trigger, knowing that a low-level shot like this, when applied to the right area, would render a Human unconscious, yet without any lasting damage. The man would stay asleep for four hours or more. And by that time Adam Cain would either be victorious—or dead.

  Taking the weapon with him, Adam struggled to return to the gravity control lever. Although it seemed like a good idea at the time to leave it on this heavy setting, in reality, it was even too much for him. He backed it down some, until he was at least able to function at something close to twice his normal weight.

  The aliens would still be incapacitated, yet the thirty-odd Humans aboard would now be able to move about, although maybe to a slightly lesser degree than he could with his conditioned muscles and depending on their own muscle strength. It would certainly be enough to cause him trouble.

  But there were only about thirty Humans aboard, as compared to several thousand aliens. That improved his odds, but not by much. After all, these were Humans he would now be fighting.

  For a moment, Adam thought of a way of pulling victory from the jaws of defeat: Simply collect every weapon he could, and then walk up and down the decks putting a bolt into the head of every enemy alien he came across. I may actually do that—after I've dealt with Nigel McCarthy.

  He would wait in the generator room, setting up a perimeter and preparing to fend off the coming attack by Nigel and his Humans. He knew they had to come here eventually, and so he'd be ready for them.

  In the meantime, he took the time to track down the second Human in the room. He wasn't hard to find; he was the person shooting at him.

  Even in the harsh gravity, it didn't take much effort to rest an MK on a table and let off a couple of bolts. And that was just what this guy was doing. Adam had to use up too much of his precious energy reserves before he was able to maneuver around the room to get a shot.

  Once the deed was done, Adam returned to the area around the gravity control lever and armed with a half dozen MK's and one Xan-fi rifle, laid down on the metal deck and tried to conserve his energy. This was exhausting, just breathing and trying to do even the simplest of movements. He didn't know how long he'd be able to maintain his strength, but what he did know was that Nigel McCarthy was having an even harder time dealing with the increased gravity. The dude was like twenty years older than Adam....

  "Hasn't anyone gotten to him yet?" Nigel yelled into the datapad.

  "It ain't that easy," Rickie Davies panted on the screen. "He's barricaded himself in the generator room with enough weapons for a small army. We're down three men already."

  "This can't go on much longer; how the bloody hell is he able to handle this?"

  "He doesn't have to move between decks. But there's ten of us just about there, although we're going to be dog tired when we do."

  "Then don't try anything fancy, just blast his ass." Nigel didn't care at this point if Cain was taken prisoner or not. He just needed to get the gravity back to normal. Already he was on the verge of a heart attack.

  Carlos Valenzuela was the closest thing Nigel had to a second-in-command on the Goliath. The man was only twenty-nine and in top-notch shape. Yet even he was having trouble dealing with the oppressive gravity.

  "You want me to get down there? I think I can make it."

  "No, I need you here, just in case." Nigel didn't have to explain what the just in case entailed. "What I really have to do is get off this ship."

  "There are latchpods on fifteen. I'll help you."

  "Make it quick.

  With Valenzuela's assistance, Nigel made it down five flights of stairs and to the first pod access point they could find. Nigel was sweating profusely by then, and his breathing was severely labored. As with most of Nigel's Humans, they had emergency medical training, so Carlos could read the signs. The problem for both of them was that Valenzuela wasn't much better off and they had no medical cure for gravity equivalent to a constant 2G's.

  Even in the pod, the transport vessel was subject to the gravity in the immediate vicinity of the Goliath. The alien pilot was unconscious by now—or dead. But Carlos was able to close the pressure hatch and separate from the hull of the huge ship. When he did, the hole in the hull exploded outward from the sudden rush of atmosphere inside the craft. However, moments later, interior pressure doors closed, sealing off that part of Level 15 from the rest of the ship.

  The latchpod fell away from the Goliath on chemical drive, and as the distance increased, the gravitational influence of the interior wells decreased geometrically. Within seconds, the pair of Humans were in zero gravity and enjoying every second of it.

  "What now, boss?" Carlos asked.

  It was taking McCarthy longer to recover, but soon he was able to get his breath back and speak.

  "That bastard, I'm going to rip his guts out and have them for breakfast."

  "We've got to get 'em first. And that means going back aboard."

  "Yes, but we can wrap around and come up from underneath without having to make the twenty-deck journey. The med kits aboard the pod should have some adrenalin shots in them. Let's shoot ourselves up and then not linger too long before reaching the generator room once we go back aboard. It's only about fifty meters from one of the open docking bays."

  "Should we coordinate with the others?"

  "No, let them try to get inside on their own. They might be able to wear Cain out before we get there. Others may call the guy a s
uperman, but he's not. He's just like you and me. He'll reach his limit pretty soon, too. Now let's do all we can to regain our strength and then go make one more push. I'm going to get that rat-bastard even if it kills me."

  Carlos grunted. "It almost did already. You may not get a second chance, not against Cain."

  Dang, don't these guys ever get tired?

  Eight of the Nigel's Humans had eventually made it to the generator room, and even though the slow motion battle that took place would have been comical if viewed from afar, on the ground it was an entirely different story.

  They had tossed in two concussion grenades, which ended up not having the full impact as expected. Why? Because of the blasted gravity. With twice the gravity, they ended up being half as effective, with the brilliant flash of light being the most damaging to Adam. He recovered quick enough to lay down a powerful barrage of flash rifle fire, taking out four of Nigel's men in the process.

  That still left four more to contend with—at least for the time being.

  Yet the constant need for quick reactions and intense concentration while in the heat of battle was really taking a heavy toll on him. His attackers could take spells between them, but not Adam. He had to face every threat with all he could muster.

  He was almost to the point of not caring anymore, and from the rapid drop off of fire from the others, it appeared as though they were, too. So what happens if everyone just gives up and stops fighting? Who wins?

  Adam checked his watch. He'd give it another five minutes, and then he desperately needed some relief. In the meantime, he would see what he could do about eliminating the remaining four Humans outside the generator room. If he could do that, then even a few minutes reprieve from the oppressive gravity before others arrived would help him get back at least some of his energy.

  So he crawled along the deck, hidden by massive pieces of machinery, until he could see the doorway clearly. One of Nigel's men was on his knees, yet leaning against the door jam, his mouth open slightly and his bloodshot eyes about to close. There was a Xan-fi flash rifle held loosely in his arms, which Adam wondered if the man even realized he still held. Two other men were seated in the corridor outside, resting on the deck. He didn't see the fourth man.

  Adam lay on his stomach and took aim with his own Xan-fi, cradling the barrel in his left hand and with his left elbow planted on the deck. This allowed him some relief from the weight of the weapon, which during normal operations wasn't much because of its plastic construction. But now it felt like he was carrying a five-gallon bucket of paint every time he went to lift the weapon.

  He opened fire, striking the man at the doorway first, and then he missed the other two in the corridor with his first shots at them. Fortunately, the pair was so exhausted that their reaction time was virtually non-existent. Adam adjusted his aim and fired again before they could move for cover.

  And that's when the fourth man swung around the corner of the doorway and brought his weapon to bear on Adam. Everything was happening in slow motion—even their minds had slowed—so the two combatants took an inordinate amount of time even realizing they were about to engage. Yet with Adam on the floor, and more conditioned to the gravity, he was a split second quicker with his awareness. He got off the first shot, and with the two of them so close to one another, Adam's bolt couldn't help but find its target.

  Adam rolled over onto his back and took several deep, labored breaths. Unless others had shown up in the interim, it should now be safe for him to back off on the gravity some, at least enough to regain some of his strength before having to jack it back up again when the rest of the Humans showed up.

  All he had to do now was crawl back to the control console.

  It seemed like an hour later—rather than the two minutes it actually took—before Adam was back at the gravity control station. He had to gather up every last bit of energy he had just to lift his body into a standing position, enough so he could reach over the console and towards the control lever. Knowing what relief would soon be his, Adam smiled as he reached out his right hand—

  Just then, another arm crossed his vision and grasped the lever, shoving it upwards.

  At that point, Adam was beyond caring. All he knew was that the incredible weight that had been compressing every inch of his body was now gone. He almost cried, so overcome with joyful emotion as he was. Yet his emotional release and moment of joy was suddenly cut short when his vision next focused on a dark object, growing in size—and heading straight for his face.

  In the split second before impact, Adam recognized the object to be a fist, and just beyond it was the smiling face of Nigel McCarthy....

  161

  Not this again, Adam thought as the memories flooded into his consciousness. As with so many times before, he now hesitated opening his eyes, afraid of what he’d find.

  Instead, he first listened, seeking clues to his whereabouts and condition; all he found was a deathly silence. Next he consciously inhaled deeply through his nose; nothing particularly revealing from the smell, either. Finally he wiggled his toes and flexed his fingers. He seemed to be all in one piece.

  Then when all his other senses had failed him, sight was the only one he had left.

  He slowly opened his eyes and found he was lying on his side, a position which afforded him a view of the room he was in. As suspected, it was a cell. However, from first glance, it appeared be a very nice cell, with shiny metal walls and carpeted floors. There was no furniture to be seen in the room—other than the bed he was on—and only a solitary door with a large security lock dominating the right hand side and anchored to the frame.

  If his memories hadn’t been intact, he might have confused his cell for a stateroom; granted, a bare-bones stateroom, but livable. Yet the last thing he remembered was the sight of Nigel McCarthy’s massive fist growing ever larger in his vision…and aimed right at Adam’s face.

  Sure, a lot of other things could have happened between then and now, things he simply couldn’t remember at the moment, yet being the pragmatist that he was, he doubted it. He feared that in reality the blow had knocked him cold, leaving him at the mercy of his mortal enemy.

  The fact that he was waking up in yet another cell did not bode well for his future. He was alive, and in a circumstance like this, that wasn’t always the best outcome.

  He sat up, finding that was on the solitary piece of furniture in the room—a twin size bed with a decent mattress. He was groggy and his head throbbed, but other than that, he appeared to be fine.

  Except that he was in a locked room with only a bed.

  As it was with the countless other times he’d recovered from a bout of forced unconsciousness, Adam found he had to relieve himself, yet being in a room with only a bed, he quickly realized that could be a problem.

  With a little effort he managed to stand and began exploring the room in more detail. To his relief—literally—he found a secondary door, barely noticeable and inset in the wall at the base of the bed. It was operated by a pressure latch, and when he pressed the door, the panel recessed into the wall slightly before popping back out with a click. He pulled the door open and found a simple commode and pedestal sink inside the small room. There was also dispenser for paper towels, like that found in a public restroom, and after he had done his deed, Adam splashed water on his face and dried himself with the paper towels.

  All in all, not the worst cell he’d been in; in fact, probably the nicest. Yet it was the implications of his captivity that now occupied his mind.

  McCarthy had spared his life when he could have just as easily jettisoned his comatose body out of an airlock. His then frozen body would have floated in the cold vacuum of space until the end of time, or until it came into contact with the gravity influence of a passing star and fell into its fiery globe.

  But Nigel had kept him alive—as he said he would—and knowing the sadistic nature of the Englishman, Adam knew that the good times would soon come to a prolonged and agonizi
ng end.

  At the moment, being freeze-dried sounded like a perfectly acceptable alternative, when all things were considered.

  Further examination of the room soon revealed a small security camera set flush with the far corner of the ten-foot high ceiling, and which would provide a view of the entire room, including the door. Adam smiled and waved at the camera, confident that it would be monitored twenty-four/seven.

  He was sure Nigel would be chomping at the bit for him to wake up, just so the real party could begin, and as usual, Adam’s intuition was spot-on. Less than five minutes later, the security lock made a whirling sound and the door sprung outward.

  The smiling and intimidating hulk of Nigel McCarthy entered. Outside in the corridor, Adam could see two other Humans standing guard. They made eye contact with him, showing none of the good humor Nigel was exhibiting. These were serious people with only one purpose in life: to keep Adam Cain from escaping. And they were probably some of the survivors from the Goliath and pissed about the loss of their friends.

  “Adam, my old mate, I’m glad you survived without too much damage. You know I’ve hit so many of these bloody aliens out here that I can’t remember a single time when it didn't result in crushed skulls and a body bag. It’s good to find a creature that can take a punch.”

  And with that, Adam was hardly surprised when Nigel twisted to his left and landed a powerhouse right to the side of his jaw. Adam was spun around by the blow and fell onto the bed before rolling off the far end and onto the carpeted floor.

  Momentarily stunned, he shook off the cobwebs and staggered to his feet, while staying as far away from Nigel as he could in the tiny room. It didn’t matter. Nigel stepped forward and planted a sledgehammer-like fist into his midsection.