by T. R. Harris
Kaylor grinned, keeping his teeth from showing. “Sorry, we appear to be out of practice in recognizing the oddities of Human-speak.”
“I come back to my original question: what are you doing here?”
“You mean in The Fringe? We are back to our old ways. Life became too predictable back on our planets, I acquired another cargo hauler and here we are. This is very familiar territory to us, and we still maintain good relations with many of the shipping companies.”
“So you picked up my message. That was supposed to be reserved for higher military traffic.”
Kaylor nodded over toward his tiny bear-like partner. “Jym is to blame. He cannot rest without monitoring all comm traffic in an area.”
“It keeps us aware of enforcer movements,” Jym said in his defense.
“So I take it not all your cargos are legal?”
“Legal does not pay as well as illegal,” Kaylor said. “But what is the meaning in your cryptic message? Is there a threat we are unaware of?”
“Would you really want to know if there was? As long as it can be taken care of without you knowing, was it ever a threat to you in the first place?”
“That sounds like Klin thinking to me—” Kaylor’s eyes grew wide. “Is that who the message is intended for? Now it makes sense.”
“You are attempting to contact the Klin?” Jym said, his razor-edge excitability now fully engaged. “I thought they were all gone.”
“I’d love to be able to tell you more, but this is rather serious,” Adam deflected.
“So it is the Klin you seek.” Kaylor shook his head. “For you to be seeking out your mortal enemy does reveal the seriousness of the situation. Is there anything we can do to help?”
Adam saw Jym shoot a glaring look at Kaylor before becoming very nervous.
“Relax, we have things under control. Just if any round, black ships approach you unannounced, get away as fast as you can.”
“Why—”
Another alarm sounded on Adam’s console, another open link coming from an unidentified source. “I’m sorry, Kaylor and Jym, but I have to take this call. It’s been nice hearing from you again. Now…I gotta go.”
He cut the link and simultaneously connected the new one. He couldn’t imagine anyone else from his past who may be contacting him.
The screen before him was black, even though the video was activated. “So it is Adam Cain,” said an emotionless voice. “You say you are alone, yet we both know that to be a ruse.”
“I’m sending an attachment with an encrypted link. Contact me through there to guarantee no one else will be listening.” Adam sent the link and then cut the public line. Three seconds later the new link was connected.
The black screen now brightened and a thin creature with an elongated face and shimmering silver skin stared back at him. “I am Kreasu Simblor, the present Pleabaen of the Klin. If past fortunes are to hold true, then now that I have met you, my days should be numbered.”
Adam didn’t think the Klin capable of sarcasm, yet there it was.
“I didn’t send the message so we could talk about the past, but rather about our future.”
“You seek a union of our resources to combat the Sol-Kor. That will not be possible.”
“Why not? Are the Sol-Kor not a threat to you, as well?”
“That is immaterial. Our concern is not with what the Sol-Kor may do to us, but rather what your Union and the Expansion will do for sure.”
“Again, that was in the—”
He broke off his sentence when eight vessels were detected coming within range and approaching from eight different directions.
“I will not run. My mission is too important to let personal vendettas get in the way. Let’s just agree that I lost certain things because of the Klin, and the Klin lost certain things because of me. Now let’s move on.”
“Move on! I sit in the seat previously occupied by two of the greatest Klin to ever live…both of which you assisted in bringing about their untimely deaths.”
“We were at war back then.”
“We have never been at war with the Humans.”
Adam raised his eyebrows. “Call it what you like, Pleabaen Simblor, but it sure looked like war from our side.”
“If the Humans had not strayed, we would have ruled the galaxy as partners.”
Adam shook his head. “We both know that’s not true. Maybe something you call partners, but certainly not equal. You misread Humans…and you paid the price. You’re not the first race to do that—we’ll maybe you were—but you won’t be the last. Now please, Pleabaen, let’s talk about the matter at hand.”
“The matter at hand is that you have presented yourself to us, and the Klin have accepted your offer. You may either board our ships or come in with your own, but either way you are now in the custody of the Klin.”
“As I had hoped, Pleabaen. It’s time for a resolution…to everything.”
207
“Well this isn’t working!” Sherri said to the lieutenant seated next to her.
“It makes sense that after a while the Sol-Kor would realize we can track them and then do something about it.”
The something the gray aliens did was break into fifteen distinct tracks, each heading off at divergent angles. Sherri’s small advanced force of tracking vessels couldn’t possible follow them all. The conflict of deciding which four or five to follow had actually paralyzed the trackers. What if they made the wrong decision? So they made no decision at all.
Yet what frustrated Sherri the most was the realization that if the aliens were going through this much trouble not to be followed, then there had to be something out there worth hiding. And if that something was another completed trans-dimensional portal, then the Sol-Kor could be at this very moment transporting enough raw material in the universe to build a hundred more portals. At that point a critical mass would be reached, and there would no purging the universe of this plague. The Sol-Kor would be here, and they’d be here for good.
“Which ones have stayed most true to the original course,” she asked Lt. Amanda Collins. “Assuming they didn’t set off to deceive us, that may be our best choice.”
Collins studied the screen, something that looked like a streaking firework that suddenly exploded at apogee. “None are following the exact path, by you’re right, there are a couple spread out about equal distance from the line to either side. Almost too much of a coincidence, if you ask me.”
Sherri’s heart was pounding high in her chest. If she chose wrong, then precious time would be wasted. Given the relatively short time the Sol-Kor had been in the galaxy, she was confident they didn’t have dozens of additional arrays being worked on—not yet. A couple made more sense. But what if she was wrong?
“We’re losing contact, Sherri,” Collins said, the unspoken implication that a decision had to be made, and now.
“Stay the course, Amanda,” she finally said. “If those two tracks maintain their course over the next day, I’ll feel better. Until then, I think I’ll throw up.”
“Have faith. From what I’ve been told about the Sol-Kor, they’re not used to an enemy that would seek them out and force confrontations. They’ve been the top dog for too long to imagine there might be someone like us hanging around.”
“Thanks, Amanda, that helps. Now I was serious. Can you watch the shop for a while? I have a severe case of the nerves to get out of my system.”
208
Once he saw the screen go blank, Riyad noticed a marked change in the mood on the bridge. The Sol-Kor were quiet, more subdued. Some even began to stand, revealing themselves to his sights. But he didn’t fire. What’s the point, he thought?
Noslead Vosmin, himself a victim of Riyad’s suppressing fire, now stood and looked in his direction. “This is only a temporary setback,” he said, both to Riyad as well as the bridge crew. “In the meantime, let us rejoin the Colony for a well-deserved communion.”
Riyad stood, leaving t
he weapon on the deck. He flashed a bright smile at Vosmin. “Take him to my chambers,” the Noslead ordered. “Steering, assume course for Kor.”
Vosmin remained silent for the first five minutes he and Riyad were alone in the room. Riyad sat in a chair to one side of the living quarters, as the alien busied himself with a change of uniform and a check of a computer screen. He had no fear of Riyad, which in a way was slightly insulting to the Human. Everyone feared Humans, as well they should. But seeing that Riyad was now the only Human in an entire universe, he wasn’t about to do something foolish that would make his species-of-one extinct during its first hour here.
“The main portal is nine hours from Kor,” Vosmin suddenly volunteered. “During that time I will brief you as to the decorum for meeting the Queen.”
“You mean like bowing and curtsying?”
“I do not know what that means.”
“I mean how does a meal act before it’s consumed?”
“You will not be consumed…at least not yet.”
Riyad tried not to show his relief. But if he wasn’t to be eaten, then what? “That’s good to know. May I inquire as to what will happen to me?”
Vosmin looked at him with burning eyes. “In all our journeys, the Sol-Kor have never run into as much initial resistance as it has in your universe. I have led one other expedition before, and the results were satisfactory. This one has not. The Queen has taken notice and that is not a desired outcome for me.”
“Sorry about that. Maybe you should’ve left us alone.”
“That was not an option. Once a portal is established in another universe we must enter. The potential to the Colony is too great to be ignored. Now in my defense I will present you to the Queen. She must see firsthand who it is that the Sol-Kor have engaged. Maybe then understanding—and tolerance—will be in order.”
“You’re afraid of getting a spanking from Big Mamma, aren’t you?”
Vosmin stared at him for a good twenty seconds as the translation was sorted out. And then he said: “I am willing to sacrifice my life for the good of the Colony, yet I do not feel responsible for the events taking place in your universe. In a way, I do not even place full blame on the Humans. Where I feel the brunt of the blame belongs is a subject I am reluctant to raise with my Queen.”
“You’re talking about that pasty-skinned Panur creature, right?”
A slight nod came from Vosmin. “He is an extreme confidant of the Queen and has been for a very long time. Even I acknowledge that the mutant is mostly responsible for the phenomenal growth of the Colony during the time of his affiliation. And it was during my expedition that he has been corrupted. As it stands, we can continue without any new advances from Panur as certain castes have been trained in the recreation of his technologies. Yet even in the past we were not aware of the need for many of his inventions until they were made and became part of the Colony. Now we could not exist without them. I fear—as would my Queen—that the Colony will suffer in the long-term if Panur remains in your universe, either willingly or not.”
“So are you locked out from returning?” Riyad had been waiting for the chance to ask this seemingly innocent question. Vosmin gave him the opening he needed.
“Only temporarily. There will be other portals completed soon. But there is also Panur. He is the creator of the trans-dimensional portal—the true portal and not the crude version your Klin had built. At any time he could build a multi-directional portal, either on a grand scale or a personal transit.”
Riyad’s jaw fell open and he shook his head. “Wait, are you saying he could build a portal for individuals to use, and not some big thing in space?”
Vosmin gave him a wry smile. “Do not think that as a way to escape from here, Riyad Tarazi. You will not be given the opportunity to approach one. Even then, only until if or when Panur constructs such a unit on his side, they do not exist in your universe.”
Riyad’s excitement was hard to contain. He had all but given up hope of ever returning to his universe again. Now all he had to do was wait until Adam Cain got a hold of Panur. Then we’ll see how long it will be before the universe of the Sol-Kor is itself invaded by blood-thirsty hordes of savage Humans.
Just keep it up, you gray-skinned bastards, Riyad thought. And then we’ll see who’s having whom for dinner tonight!
209
A squad of Klin transferred over to Adam’s ship and piloted it to the still-secret location of the last remaining colony ships. The fact that it took less than five hours of transit time gave him some idea where it was: along the edge of a sphere in space three hundred light-years in diameter.
Once the small ship was absorbed into the massive moon-like space station, the Klin erased all track and navigation records for the computers, giving Adam at least the fleetly hope that they may let him leave eventually. He knew it was a long shot, but Adam never truly believed in one-way trips. He was always looking for a way out.
But first he had to give the mission his best effort, and escaping wasn’t his first priority.
Klin lifespans are very long, often reaching two hundred years or more. So most of the aliens he passed knew the complete history of the Klin association with the Humans. The savages from Earth had been singled out as the race to be pitted against the evil Juireans. The intent was not for the Humans to win, but rather for both powers to be reduced to such a diminished level that the Klin—along with their true allies the Kracori—could step in and clean up what was left of the races once the war had taken its toll.
Unfortunately the Humans had proven far more proficient at war than the Klin could have ever imagined. They not only defeated the Juireans, but the Kracori as well. As a final humiliation to the Klin, the Humans—and primarily Adam Cain—had allowed the Juireans the honors of nearly wiping out the Klin race for good, as they had attempted to do four thousand years before.
Now Adam was right smack dab in the middle of about a hundred thousand Klin who wished him nothing but the most horrific death. And as he was escorted to the Pleabaen’s chambers, enduring the dagger-looks from all the Klin he passed, he had the distinct impression that maybe he’d made a mistake by coming here in the first place.
There were three Klin in the room when Adam entered: the leader of the Klin, Pleabaen Kreasu Simblor, plus two others he recognized from the array planet meeting. Their names had been announced but Adam couldn’t remember them.
None of the Klin appeared to have the same burning hatred on their faces for him as did the Klin in the halls. What Adam saw instead was worry.
“I believe you have met Senior Fellow Dinis Zimfelous and Lead Scientist Molison Jons. I have brought them here to listen to your presentation and to help render judgement. It is how the Klin make decisions, often by committee to assure that all arguments have been heard, pro and con. I have to say I both welcome your presence as well as resent it. You must realize I cannot let you leave here alive, no matter the results of the negotiations? I have the feeling you understand this as well. But until that fateful moment, we will engage in discussions. You may begin.”
“Thank you. First of all, I have been authorized to offer to the Klin a normalization of relations with the Union and the Expansion, meaning that if you agree to join us fully in the fight against the Sol-Kor, the Klin will be able come out of hiding and join the other races in the galaxy without fear of reprisals.”
“The reprisals we would be free of would be for perceived crimes the Klin have committed, is that correct?” asked the alien with the unlikely name of Zimfelous. “Is that why we would be granted immunity from punishment from our enemies?”
“That’s right, although I sense that wasn’t a real question.”
“Of course it wasn’t! That would assume that the Klin are guilty of crimes that would require pardons. To the Klin, we have committed no crimes. All we have ever done is defend ourselves against the aggression of others. We have nothing to be forgiven for.”
The image of the charred r
emains of his wife and daughter, forever etched in his memory, said otherwise, but Adam held his tongue. He turned to Kreasu.
“Don’t you want to be remembered as the Pleabaen who freed his people from the shadows, who made it possible for them to reenter the galaxy as friends, not enemies, and who gave them a home made of solid rock instead of these cold metal walls? There are many worlds throughout the galaxy that the Klin can claim as their new home, and no one will stop you. The Klin can then look up at an open sky at night and know they’re no longer hunted—whether for cause or not. The reality is you are hunted and you’re perceived of being guilty for crimes against the galaxy. Here’s your chance to prove to everyone that you’re not the evil demons others have made you out to be. Help us save the galaxy from a plague that threatens all of us—including the Klin—and you’ll be able to do all that, and more.”
“Pretty speech, Mr. Cain,” the Pleabaen said. “And in the present environment I am sure everything you say is true. Yet what happens after the threat is gone? The animosities between the Klin and the Juireans run too deep. And now the Humans—although relatively new to the galactic scene—have joined in the persecution of the Klin. How can you guarantee that in ten, twenty or even a hundred years the hatred will not boil up again? We are a slow reproducing race and few in number compared to our enemies. Even a century from now it would be no contest, not if we are out in the open and easy targets.”
“Then make yourselves essential. Join the Expansion, join the Union. Let the genius of the Klin scientific community show the galaxy what they’ve been missing. Hell, you guys built a damn trans-dimensional portal. Who else in this universe could’ve done that? Just look how the Formilians have infused themselves in nearly every aspect of the galaxy through their technology and mastery of electricity. There’s no one here who would dare attack them, not because they have a powerful military, but because so many economies are dependent on their products and innovations. It could be the same for the Klin.”