by T. R. Harris
Adam gasped and buckled over. After catching his breath, he stood up again, while covering his stomach with both his arms. He could tell there was blood draining from his mouth, and his vision was growing blurry from a rapidly swelling right eye.
“So dis is aow it’s gonna be?” he grunted. His lips were swelling, too, making it hard to enunciate properly.
The grin on McCarthy’s face had stretched to a seemingly impossible width. “That’s right,” he said with glee. “As long as you last, I’m going to use you as my real-life heavy bag, and with every blow, I will recall an instance over the past twenty years when you have ruined my plans or made my personal life more difficult. If you remember, by this time in my life I was supposed to be the ruler of the Earth, placed there and supported by my Klin benefactors. Instead, I’ve been on the run for a decade or more, thanks to you. And now I’m here, in this godforsaken galaxy, and having to spend all my time doing what I do best—conquer and control. Don’t get me wrong; I love my job. It’s just that I was hoping by this age to be retired and collecting my government pension.”
McCarthy feigned another hit, causing Adam to flinch and cover his head with his arms. Nigel laughed. “It’s not going to matter whether you cover up or not Adam, so either stand there and take it or I’ll have your hands tied and then have my way with you. Over time, you’ll forget about your defensive moves as your mind accepts the pain as a habit. And I won’t let you die or inflict too much damage to your brain. I want you aware of every blow and not go wacky on me.”
He then waved a hand indicating the stark cell they were in. “I will keep you aboard this ship and orbiting Anicett, since I know how skilled you are at escaping land-based lockups. I spend considerable time up here simply for the gravity I can control. I cannot afford to let the weak gravity of Anicett affect me physically. And now I’ll have another reason to spend more time up here—you.”
Adam saw Nigel’s expression suddenly grow serious. “You and your damned gravity. You know, you almost pulled off a bloody miracle aboard the Goliath. And you might like to know that Kroekus is dead. That I took care of personally, and I now have his head on display in my private office down on the planet." And then Nigel snorted. "And you expected to best me in the arena? Yes, I heard of that supposed death-match Kroekus had planned for us. Although I must admit, going one-on-one with you would answer a lot of questions; however, I’m also enough of a realist to know there would be a very good chance I could lose. You’re twenty years younger and more recently-trained. I’ve been out of practice against worthy opponents for quite some time, and I can say all this without my ego getting in the way.” The smile returned to his face. “And I do prefer this outcome to the alternative.”
To Adam’s immense relief, Nigel turned and went to the door without punctuating his visit with another hit to his body. Yet before leaving, Nigel turned back to Adam and said, “Get settled in, mate. It’s going to be a very long and painful ordeal for you. This is only the beginning.”
162
Adam lost track of time, although through it all the parting words of Nigel McCarthy remained forever etched on his mind.
It had been just the beginning, and now countless times later, since that first day in the cell with Nigel, he wondered when it would end.
At first, Adam tried to scratch the number of passing days in the hard metal walls of the cell, based on the meals brought to him. But when that didn’t work, he tried making impressions in a sheet of paper towel with his fingernails. But then the guards confiscated his paper towel.
Since the light in the cell was always set at the same low intensity, he couldn’t tell the passing of time that way either, since there was no distinction from night and day. And other than the meals and the occasional restocking of the paper towel dispenser, the only other constant in his life were the erratically-timed visits from Nigel McCarthy.
There seemed to be no pattern to when Nigel would show up and beat on him for a few minutes, so Adam would sleep most of the time, until the lock whirled and Nigel would step in.
At first, Adam tried to exercise during these lull periods, in an effort to keep his body in top shape so he could better weather Nigel’s visits. But that routine soon gave way to lethargic resignation to his situation. And Nigel had been right. Now when the lock would whirl, Adam would simply climb off the bed and stand like a zombie, docile and defenseless, as Nigel pummeled him.
Nigel soon spent most of the time hitting Adam in the stomach and lower extremities, afraid to strike his head due to Adam’s deteriorating mental condition. He wanted his prisoner aware, and not some brainless vegetable. However, once in a while Nigel would still delight in placing the occasional headshot, if only at half-strength.
On very rare occasions, a Human doctor would come and examine him. Before he didn’t care any longer, Adam figured the doctor was one Nigel’s Hundred Humans. After all, where would you find a Human doctor this far from home?
And so time passed; Adam had no idea how much, yet by then time was his enemy. He was beyond the point of suicide, his mind so dull and addled that he doubted he could even conjure up the creativity to figure out an effective way of doing it.
The daily meal had been delivered and consumed, and now Adam lay on the bed in a fetal position, asleep, yet not dreaming. Even those had subsided, to a point where he couldn’t even remember the last dream he had.
His cell was aboard a starship in orbit around the planet Anicett, and occasionally the hull would rumble as generators were run up and tested, or when the ship would make trips to destinations unknown. During those trips, Adam’s existence became even more excruciating than normal, with Nigel aboard constantly and never tiring of his sessions with Adam.
So when the hull rumbled again, Adam paid no attention, and when the lock whirled several moments later, he obediently climbed off the bed and stood in the center of the room waiting for the door to open. With mealtime over, this could only mean yet another visit from Nigel McCarthy. Adam would welcome the coming pain. It was the only thing that proved he was still alive.
Yet when the door opened this time no one entered immediately. Adam didn’t notice nor would have cared if he did. He just stood near the bed, oblivious to everything around him.
Now there was movement around him, and hands were placed on his body. He was pressed into a sitting position on the bed as more figures entered the room. This was not the doctor, nor was it the attendant for the towel dispenser.
But neither was in McCarthy. These were gentle, caring hands now upon him. This was an experience so foreign to him that it was the very nature of its uniqueness that caused him to fight out of his stupor and struggle for awareness.
There were voices in the room, as well, and he noticed someone was crying. Even though his eyes were open, he couldn’t see, at least not clearly. But then he had a vague memory that there was more to see than just the plate of food or the way to the bathroom and his bed. He found a small reservoir of willpower still hidden deep within his mind, and soon the scene around him began to come into focus.
Images began to form, and this was when he had the depressing feeling that this could all be could just one of his very rare dreams and not reality. He decided that it had to be a dream, because what he now saw couldn’t possibly be real.
There was a figure kneeling before him and a face only a few feet away, framed by a strange yellow glow. Another figure moved into his field of vision, this one more angular and darker. His vision cleared more, and this was when he knew for sure that he was dreaming.
Even then, he still smiled; the dream was a refreshing reprieve from reality. He would savor it for a moment, knowing that at any time it could fade away.
But then the dream brought physical sensation to his face. There were fingers gently wiping away the tears that had escaped his vacant eyes, as the emotions of the dream overwhelmed him. There was something odd about this, and when the faces of the two figures kneeling before him cam
e into full focus, he found he was staring into the impossible.
They were the faces of Sherri Valentine and Riyad Tarazi, both with tears flooding down their cheeks.
“Oh my god, Adam, can you hear me?” The voice was soft, yet desperate. It also had that unique, accented quality he’d not heard in a very long time. The voice helped shock him into the present.
He reached out his hands and found the warm flesh of her face and the silkiness of her hair. “I’m dreaming,” he said in a raspy whisper; he couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken.
The image of Sherri Valentine now broke down into uncontrollable sobs, as the darker face of Riyad Tarazi leaned in closer. “No you’re not, my friend. We’re here; Sherri and me, along with Andy Tobias, and even Kaylor and Jym.”
Suddenly he was aware of a whole mass of people closing in on him, hugging him tight and all speaking at once. Even though his body was battered and bruised, he was accustomed to the pain, and so he didn’t cry out as he was caressed.
“This isn’t a dream?”
“No Adam, it’s not.”
Adam now looked around at the others. He saw Riyad Tarazi, the former Fringe Pirate and his long-time running buddy, along with his old SEAL commanding officer, Admiral Andy Tobias. Next his eyes landed on the face of Kaylor, with its distinctly alien features, including two inch-long appendages dangling from his earlobes—and crowding in to be noticed was the fur-covered bear-like face of Jym. Kaylor and Jym were the first two aliens he’d encountered after being thrust into this strange universe against his will; he often wished they had been the last.
And then he felt full, warm lips press against his. When it was over, he was staring at the unbelievably beautiful face of Sherri Valentine, his ex-lover and long-time companion.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Riyad moved into his vision again. “I got a call from your friend Dracus a few months back; said you might need my help. And since you once risked your life to rescue me, I’m just returning the favor—and I’ll be damned if I couldn’t talk all the others out of joining me.”
Adam began to cry, falling into Sherri’s arms as he did. She cradled him with strong arms that never felt so comforting.
And then he heard a voice say: “Let’s get going. A longer reunion can wait until we’re off this ship and safely on our way back to the Cain.”
He was lifted up and guided out of the cell. There was a controlled panic now in the movements of those around him, as they rushed down corridors and through doorways. Adam was only half aware of all this, as a large part of his mind was still having a hard time believing it was real.
They entered a small shuttle, where four others were waiting, including two Rigorian soldiers and the alien Dracus. There was another Human standing next to him; young, with fiery red hair and brilliant blue eyes. Adam momentarily locked his gaze on the young man, feeling as though he recognized him. But soon he was guided further into the shuttle and placed into a comfortable chair behind the command station and belted in.
“What now?” he said to no one in particular.
Riyad Tarazi stood before him, tall, dark and determined. “The team is back together, my friend, and as before, there’s nothing that can stop us, not in the Milky Way Galaxy and certainly not here. Now…we put an end to Nigel McCarthy—so we can all go home again.”
163
The X’zolic Flame Festival was held every ten years at the Temple of Gor on the planet Jenic. It was a lavish affair, held over the seventeen-hour night of the X-zolic Season—the longest night of the decade. The natives of Jenic placed a lot of significance on the ceremony, with over eighteen million of them now gathered on the vast stepped plains of…blah, blah, blah….
Nigel McCarthy stopped listening to his host after the narration had droned on for half an hour. He was bored out of his skull, and even had to make up a hasty explanation about how a yawn was a sign of respect where Nigel came from. However, since yawning was a natural biological occurrence within most species, he was sure the planet’s Simicon—president—didn’t buy the explanation any more than Nigel would have.
Yet Nigel McCarthy was the Lord of the Kiran Clan so the Simicon did not press the issue.
A particular brilliant flash of flame erupted from somewhere down in the valley as the crowd went wild, jolting Nigel back to the present. He felt a shiver run through his body as the scratchy fabric of the ceremonial gown grated against his skin. He was sure he looked ridiculous in the rainbow-colored garment, not to mention the sideways, boat-shaped hat he wore.
He gritted his teeth, while thinking if he ever conquered a galaxy again he would outlaw all such celebrations—or at least pass a decree appointing a surrogate to attend. Yes, that would be a simpler solution. Appoint an official ceremony-attender—and find a creature to fill the post whose species did not have the habit of yawning.
Besides the utter waste of time the trip to Jenic had become, Nigel McCarthy also had a budding galactic war to manage, something a lot more important than watching a lot of gas jets explode in the night sky. Yet even as bored as he was—seated on the vast presentation stage at the entrance to the Temple of Gor—Nigel McCarthy found himself frowning when he spied Simone Dubois and Dinis Grof both rushing towards him from across the stage.
On top of everything else, Nigel was growing weary of the rivalry between the two females, albeit of difference species. Each vied for his attention and approval, even though Simone was the only one of the two biologically matched to him. Still, they sought power over the other in a childish display of schoolgirl-like jealousy.
Technically, Dinis Grof was the second-in-command of the Clan since she was an Anicettean and the former concubine of the past Lord of the Clan, the recent-deceased Alic Kiran. She had also been instrumental in having Nigel declared the new Lord, and as such she was rewarded with the second seat.
Yet Simone was Nigel’s lover and one the Hundred Humans he’d brought with him from the Milky Way. He grimaced at the thought. It had been a hundred at one time—until Adam Cain dispatched eleven of them during the battle for the super starship Goliath.
Probably more than anything else, it was that single act that made Nigel sure Cain suffered during his long months of captivity. Humans were such a scarce commodity in the tiny galaxy known as Tanic that he couldn’t afford to lose even one, let alone eleven in a single battle. With that thought in mind, Nigel found solace in the fact that once all this useless ceremony was over, he would reward himself with an extended session with his most-prized possession—his prisoner Adam Cain.
“I beg an audience with the Lord of the Clan,” Dinis said once she was within earshot of Nigel. She knew the Simicon could hear as well, so she had to be more respectful and subservient than they were in private.
Of course, Simone was didn’t buy into any such nonsense. “Something big just happened—”
Nigel raised his hand to cut off the tall blonde’s bombastic pronouncement.
He turned to the Simicon. “Please forgive me, for I must attend to serious affairs of state.” He rose from his seat. “I will return as soon as possible.”
“Yet the Lighting Ceremony is about to begin, My Lord. Can you not postpone the meeting for an hour?”
Nigel gave the dignitary a wry grin. “If only I could, Simicon Menahan. Functions like these are what give me relief from the more mundane duties of my office. Please offer my apologies. I will do my best to return before daybreak.”
He then turned from the exasperated planetary president and ducked through a doorway at the back of the stage, with the two females in tow. He rushed to the huge priest’s room that had been set aside for him and then shut and locked the door once the women had entered before tossing the silly looking hat across the room.
“As much as I appreciate the break, this had better not be another one of your childish squabbles—”
“Adam Cain has escaped!” Simone blurted out.
“He was re
scued,” added Dinis.
Nigel McCarthy was stunned into silence, and through a numbness he felt in his mind and body, he played the last few words back in his head to see if there was any way they could have been misconstrued. Yet there were only seven of them, and they left no ambiguity.
“You had better have your facts straight,” Nigel spit out, “and he’s not just hiding somewhere in his room.”
Dinis moved to the room’s large desk and took out a datapad. She turned it on, and after a few adjustments, an image appeared on the five-foot wide screen that was mounted on the wall opposite a long couch.
“This is surveillance video taken an hour ago aboard the DS-229.”
The DS-229 was Nigel’s flagship—the one he’d come to Jenic in—and where he’d kept Adam Cain prisoner for the past six months. The ship was currently in orbit above the planet.
There was sound on the video, yet it was at such a low level that he couldn’t make out any conversations. Yet he didn’t need audio to know the seriousness of the situation. A highly coordinated team of Humans and aliens had stormed into the room, overpowering the guards and spirited away a zombie-like Adam Cain. Yet it was who had done the absconding that most impacted him.
It was Adam’s Cain’s old Crusaders team, including Sherri Valentine, Riyad Tarazi and Andy Tobias. He even had the two pesky aliens with him. He had forgot their names, yet when analyzed, it had been their seemingly harmless act of rescuing Adam from a derelict Klin transport almost two decades ago that had initiated the entire sequence of events that led to the failure of the Klin’s master plan and the fall of the Juirean Expansion.
Now they were at it again.
They were all here—within the Tanic Galaxy—and only an hour ago were only two hundred fifty miles above him in orbit above the planet Jenic.
Nigel found himself mesmerized by the video, not from the quality of the production or even the events it depicted, but rather from the implications it foretold. The fact that the team had successfully rescued Adam Cain from his flagship was one thing—and serious enough in its own right. Yet the question that was screaming in Nigel’s head at the moment was: How did they get here?