by T. R. Harris
“Is it your belief, Phil Emerson, that Adam Cain can be killed?”
The Human now displayed a look of shock. “Killed? Of course, he’s just like the rest of us. He’s not immortal after all—not like his daughter’s rumored to be.”
Azon took up a databox and began to scan his files. Yes, he had read of this anomaly, of this creature labeled Lila Bol, the product of an interspecies mating between Adam Cain and the Formilian Arieel Bol.
“Do you believe these stories?” he asked his Human prisoner.
“You know, I’ve been coming out into space for the past few years, and I’ve seen some really weird shit, but when you think about, there’s nothing that can’t be explained. But the stories of Lila—and of Panur—well, who knows? Maybe not until I see them first-hand.”
“Who is Panur?”
“He’s a mutant from another dimension, the guy who helped the Sol-Kor build all their most-deadly weapons. He’s supposed to be immortal, too, just like Lila. Some say he’s over five thousand years old.”
Azon frantically scanned the data files for any mention of a creature labeled Panur. There was none. Now the Third Cadre officer had something new. How it impacted the Humans and Adam Cain’s apparent supernatural abilities, Azon did not know, but he sensed it was related somehow. Yet it also seemed his conversation with the Human had suddenly lapsed into the realm of fantasy, more myth than fact. That was understandable; most species believed such nonsense to one degree or another. Yet now he had a line of questioning to put before the remaining Human prisoners.
Phil Emerson had calmed down much since the start of the interrogation, with his scent of fear greatly diminished, but Azon was growing impatient. His team would embark for the Kac in two days, and once there, find many more Human test subjects. He felt this one had provided all the knowledge he could. Now it was time to return to the physical aspects of the species, which presented the Spec-One with an opportunity to settle first-hand a question that had been troubling him.
Azon stepped up to the Human. “I wish you to strike me.”
Fear returned to the alien. “Strike you…you mean like hit you?”
“Yes, in the face, but from the side.”
“Why?”
“I wish to experience your species’ natural strength.”
The Human stepped away. “I don’t think so. You’re just trying to find an excuse to hurt me.”
“I do not need an excuse to hurt you,” Azon replied. “Yet I do need one not to.”
“And hitting you will keep you from hurting me?” Skepticism was thick in the Human’s tone. Azon noted this. The creature was thoughtful and calculating, even when given the opportunity to strike his capturer.
“I could hurt you,” the Human Emerson continued. “Humans are known for being stronger than most aliens, and your gravity here is lighter than on Earth. Please don’t make me do this.”
“I absolve you from all consequence regarding my request. This interrogation is being recorded, so my declaration is official. Now strike me…and do not hold back. Nuoreans are the supreme players—warriors—in our galaxy. You cannot hurt me permanently.”
The Human considered his situation—and opportunity—for a moment before nodding. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes. Proceed. I am ready.”
Phil Emerson studied Azon carefully. Then he shifted his footing, pulled back his right arm, and delivered a powerful balled fist to the side of the Nuorean’s head….
********
Azon lay unconscious for three days before waking. After another day of recovery, he was released in time to make the next jump to the Kac. He joined the other members of his team from the earlier transition, still wearing the full-head guard as the shattered bones in his face continued to heal.
The Spec-One had been admonished by his superiors for taking such a foolish risk. The Humans were a potential Jundac race and not to be taken lightly. If the hit had been half an inch higher he would have died from the single blow—something almost unheard of against a Nuorean. Yet his experiment did prompt the Grand Masters to intervene with regards to the remaining four Humans on Nuor. They were dispatched in private immunity challenges with the Grand Masters themselves. These matches were carefully monitored, and used primarily to provide the leaders of the Nuorean race with first-hand knowledge of this potential Jundac species. Yet they took care. One of the Humans managed to injure a Grand Master—not severely, but enough to warrant the alien’s immediate termination by the watchful Third Cadre.
After the challenges, the GM’s sent orders that the Humans should be segregated from the other races in the Kac, with challenges awarded to only to the highest-skilled players and under controlled conditions. An evenly-matched contest would be allowed to continue to the conclusion, even if it meant the death of a Nuorean master. However, if the Human was judged to be clearly superior, then the challenger could continue to engage the alien to acquire experience, yet if faced with jeopardy, the Cadre would intervene. Skilled players were not to be wasted in clearly losing challenges; it took too long for them to reach such a level of expertise.
Chapter 3
Sherri Valentine was in the landing bay of the Najmah Fayd, still apprehensive about Riyad’s plan to intentionally go out looking for fleets of Nuorean warships in nothing but an unarmed shuttle craft. Their last such attempt had nearly left her and Coop stranded for eternity in the Andromeda Galaxy. She wasn’t anxious for a replay.
“C’mon, let’s load the shuttle,” she said to Coop and Riyad. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from past experience, there’s no such thing as a quick in and out, at least nothing that’s even remotely satisfying. So let’s just get this over with”
The two men looked at each other.
“Is she talking about you again?” Riyad said.
“I thought she meant you?” Coop responded.
“Men,” Sherri proclaimed. “Y’all think you’re the greatest lovers in the world, but I bet none of you could hold a candle to Trimen—and he’s three times your age.”
“I appreciate the compliment,” said a voice from behind the group.
Sherri turned, red-faced. Trimen was there, along with Adam. She lifted the first box she saw and carried it into the shuttle as quickly as she could.
Adam understood what Sherri meant about the Formilian. Trimen O’lac—the High Corusant, the highest ranking male in Formilian society—was an equivalent of over a hundred Human years old, yet he had the physique of a twenty-something romance novel cover model, tanned, buffed and square-jawed. He also had a habit of wearing shirts without sleeves, displaying his toned, muscular arms to the breathless enjoyment of the only true female aboard. The former queen of the Sol-Kor—the mutant J’nae—was classified female, but only on paper. With her ability to modify her cells, she could be anything she wanted to be.
“How are the preps coming?” Adam asked after Sherri had left.
Riyad smiled. “Doing fine, my friend, we should be ready in ten minutes. Sure you don’t want to tag along?”
“The three of you can handle this. Now, if you were going out to actually bash some alien heads, I might reconsider. But this is just a boring reconnaissance mission.”
Riyad nodded toward the entrance hatch to the shuttle. “It may not be that boring, considering the present company.”
Adam smiled. “Even so, be careful. Panur has pinpointed the source of the gravity wave. It’s in the computer. But if the Nuoreans are bringing in fleets, you should be able to pick up their signatures long before you come in range. If that happens, get the hell out of there. I’ll contact fleet command and let them take it from there. I’m pretty anxious to see if the suppressor beam strategy works.”
“Same here. If it doesn’t, we have one hell of an uphill battle.”
“Remember,” Adam said, turning serious. “In and out, and then beat a path for Incus. We can’t wait for long.”
Riyad studied Adam’s creased fo
rehead. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he said to his friend, reading his concern. “If anyone can take care of herself it’s an immortal mutant genius.”
“One would think so,” Adam replied. “However, how easy it was for the Aris to take her, I’m worried.”
“I can see you are.” Riyad reached out his hand and they shook. “See you in a few days.”
Adam nodded.
A few minutes later, he left the landing bay and watched as the shuttle dropped out the back of the Najmah Fayd and streaked off into space. Call it a sixth sense or what, but Adam wasn’t feeling very confident about Riyad’s mission, possibly because he wasn’t going. After all, Adam Cain was kind of a serious control freak.
Chapter 4
Six days cooped up in a shuttle craft would try anyone’s patience and tolerance. So by the time the trio reached the location Panur had programmed into the nav computer, Sherri and Copernicus were on the skids, with Riyad was ready to don a spacesuit and step outside to avoid the constant bickering. But things got serious as they scanned the empty space around them.
“These are the coordinates,” Copernicus Smith announced, “but nobody’s home.”
“That’s a good thing,” Sherri said from the seat next to him. “Just means Panur’s calculations were wrong.” As soon as she spoke the words, she regretted saying them.
“Panur wrong, yeah, right,” Riyad chimed in from behind her. “Maybe not wrong, just slightly off target,” he continued. “The gravity wave was real and it promulgated from somewhere around here.”
“Promulgated?” Sherri said. “Dude, you’ve been hanging out with geniuses too long. Now you’re beginning to sound like one.”
“And this is a bad thing?”
“Hey, there’s supposed to be a fleet of alien invaders out here,” Coop spoke up, getting the team back on topic. “The last time the Nuoreans came through they left a trail fifty light-years long, now nothing. Is that possible?”
The shuttlecraft only had two seated stations in the pilothouse, forcing Riyad to stand behind the others, looking over their shoulders or out the forward viewport at the blackness of space. He stood up a little straighter when a thought occurred to him.
“Unless they’ve learned their lesson,” he whispered.
Coop tensed. “Checking magnetic proximity sensors,” he announced, instinctively picking up on Riyad’s suspicions. If the alien fleet was in dark status, their energy signatures would be too dim to detect. Yet metal hulls created magnetic fields.
“We’d have to be right on top of one to notice,” Sherri stated.
“Cut power,” Riyad commanded.
“Don’t do it!” Coop countered. “If we do, that’ll broadcast the fact that we know they’re here, and I’m pretty sure they already have us pinpointed. It wouldn’t do us any good to go dark, not now.”
Sherri had the magnetics up on the main screen. She set the indicator to portray a grid of thin lines that would be influenced by any magnetic disturbances in the empty void surrounding the ship. The lines ran horizontal and vertical, with no deflection. But then they noticed a slight bending of a line along the right side of the screen. It wasn’t much—not until magnified—then the deviation became unmistakable. Something was invisible beyond their other sensors, and it was made of metal.
“Distance to anomaly…three hundred thousand miles,” Sherri announced. “It’s stationery, relative to our position.”
“But we’re not…we’re moving,” Coop said. “That means so are they, using gas jets for maneuvering.”
“There’s another deflection,” Sherri said. “This one’s to port, also matching course and velocity.” She took a deep breath. “We’re screwed.”
“Maybe not,” Riyad said. “They haven’t blown us out of the water—not yet.”
Coop sent a dotted red-line course to the main screen, showing the quickest way out of this part of space.
“You’re kidding me?” Sherri asked. “We’re in a goddamn shuttle craft, without a single exterior-mounted weapon. And that’s not to say we wouldn’t run smack dab into the heart of their fleet if we bolt out.”
Copernicus smiled. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, but if they don’t accept our surrender, running may be our only option.”
None of them questioned the mention of the word surrender. From past experience, raising the white flag often opened up more options, while maintaining the prerequisite of living beyond the next moment.
Coop cut the engines and turned up the internal energy signature, broadcasting to everyone in the area they were here and offering no resistance. Moments later, four small Nuorean attack ships appeared after igniting their gravity-drives. Another large craft made its presence known, just as one of the three-mile-long battle-carriers materialized. Coop was surprised that a vessel of that size would go dark to avoid their small shuttle. That would have meant shutting off gravity and life support to a crew of over ten thousand. The aliens must be serious about remaining undetected, which didn’t bode well for the Humans. With what they knew, keeping them alive would be too great a risk.
********
Thirty minutes later, the shuttle had been boarded and the three Humans transferred to another craft for the ride to the battle-carrier. The aliens let the Najmah Fayd’s shuttle drift off unmanned, rather than bring it aboard, apparently worried that it might be carrying a bomb designed to either damage or destroy the huge warship.
Once in the small Nuorean transport vessel, their images were scanned and transmitted, resulting in a waiting entourage in one of the huge landing bays of the carrier. Nuoreans didn’t display rank as brazenly as did the Juireans—or Humans, for that matter—so it was hard for Riyad and the others to distinguish between the dozen or so aliens in the group; however, one of the creatures did standout from the rest, by the plastic guard he wore over the bruised skin on the left side of his face.
Another tall Nuorean stepped forward as the trio disembarked.
“I am First-Lead Sanelis (314) Kallen-Noc, commander of Nuor fleets,” said the alien. “Facial recognition has identified two of you as Riyad Tarazi and Sherri Valentine. The other Human is unknown to us. Upon further research, our surprise was elevated when we discovered your histories. You are well-known within the Kac, and the chance of being innocently within this region of space cannot be a coincidence. You have come deliberately, which raises many questions.”
Sanelis turned to the Nuorean with the face mask. “Fortunately, we have aboard a unit of the Third Cadre tasked with the evaluation of Humans, especially with regard to the creature known as Adam Cain. It is indeed a small galaxy that I now have two of this legendary team aboard my ship. I will now turn you over to Spec-One Azon (1901) for interrogation and testing. He carries the primary authority over your fate, but I must remind him to hasten his investigation. The forces of the Kac may now be aware of our presence.”
The injured alien came forward. He studied the emotionless faces of his captives before addressing them. “I am indeed fortunate, as I may now be able to solve the mystery of Adam Cain. Take the prisoners to Section Nine, under Cadre guard. The evaluation will begin immediately.”
Riyad flashed his impossibly white teeth at the alien. A moment passed between them as the creature first tensed, then calmed. “That looks like our handiwork.” Riyad said, making a point of looking the plastic guard up and down. “Who did it?”
“No one of importance, simply a Human classified as a merchant…a shoe merchant.”
Riyad chuckled. “If a salesman did this to you—” his smile grew wider, more wicked, “—just imagine what I could do to you.”
The alien tried to return the ominous smile, but grimaced instead from the pain of his injury. “Aboard this vessel, our current interaction will be controlled. Yet because of your challenge, Riyad Tarazi, I will make it a personal goal to defeat that rebellious nature of yours in a most unpleasant manner.”
“Looking forward to it, asshole.”
&nbs
p; “Take them away.”
********
“Way to go, Riyad,” Sherri said once the trio was placed in a locked room with a thick glass door and guards outside, watching their every move. “Poke the bear when he’s holding all the cards.”
“You’re mixing metaphors, my love,” he replied. “Yet you must remember that an angry enemy is prone to act emotionally, often resulting in critical mistakes being made.”
“Or he may just step in here and slice off your head—problem solved.”
“Then I will leave it to you and Coop to avenge my death.”
Copernicus Smith sat on one of the three cots that had been crammed into the much-too-small room. “Is this how you guys always talk?” he grunted. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re in some deep shit.”
Riyad turned to the starship repairman. “Copernicus, my friend, you’re supposed to be this unbeatable super-spy, so I have every confidence you’ll figure a way out of our current situation.”
Coop looked at Sherri. “Maybe for Sherri and me, but you, buddy, happen to be the third-wheel around here.”
“The story of my life.”
Chapter 5
True to his word, the alien began the interrogation of the Humans only minutes after being placed in the cell. A force of guards came in and removed Sherri. There was some shoving and name-calling as the men protested, but Sherri calmed them down, saying this was just the opening salvo, so nothing to worry about.
She was taken into a large room with a long table and a series of monitors in the walls. The masked-alien—Azon—was there, along with four other Nuoreans all dressed in dark gray uniforms with a single yellow stripe on their left breast.
As she was shoved into a chair on the opposite side of the table from Azon, two of the aliens grasped her arm and held it against the tabletop. One then took a knife and opened a two-inch-long cut on her forearm. She let out a whimper before gritting her teeth against the pain, refusing to display any more reaction to the injury.