by T. R. Harris
And yet with all his respect for the Nuoreans superior tactics, they did appear to have made a mistake. The strategy of avoiding allied contact had been working. And by dividing their forces, they took advantage of the small number of beam platforms available for deployment. Now they’d consolidated all their forces in one location, allowing the relatively few platforms available to be brought to bear against their entire Milky Way contingent.
That didn’t make sense.
But the enemy did have over ten thousand ships. That would instill any area commander with a sense of strength and security.
Smith looked at the beam-spread analysis readout again. The platforms had been originally designed to subdue planets from orbit. Because of the nature of such large, round objects, it usually took three platforms to cover the surface area adequately. But the range of an individual platform in clear space was impressive, extending out a quarter a light-year before losing strength. Three of them, positioned properly, could dominate a considerable area. And then as one section was cleared, the beam could be shifted.
Yes, it was possible that their existing three platforms—and accompanying support units—could eliminate the bulk of the Nuorean concentration, if the Nuoreans cooperated. And so far they had.
“Very well, Commander,” Smith said. “Contact Juirean Command and the Formilians. Tell them to get the platforms to us ASAP. I’ll begin assembling the attack fleet. We go in ten days.”
Chapter 21
Theoretically, it was possible for Adam to jump the Najmah Fayd five thousand light-years or more at a time. The problem came with the landing. The longer the jump, the more likely he could materialize in the middle of a star, a gas cloud or an asteroid belt. So shorter jumps—those with more reliable data—were the general rule. Still, going from the edge of the Kidis to the Fringe in only two days was remarkable.
Once in the region, Adam contacted Kaylor again and got his exact location. Adam smiled when he heard the name of the city Krune. When he was active as an alien assassin, the city had been his home base. His primary source of business—the gangster Seton Amick—lived there, up until the time he didn’t live anymore. His unfortunate demise was precipitated by another freelance alien assassin—one Sherri Valentine, Human.
The homecoming should have been more nostalgic, but with the Fringe flooded with dangerous alien warcraft, Adam had to be careful he didn’t attract too much attention. He made shorter and shorter jumps as he approached the planet, and once on the outskirts of the Castorian system, he engaged the conventional gravity-drive and made a beeline for Krune. There were Nuorean ships lingering within the system, and it wouldn’t pay for him to be challenged and for the aliens to attempt a boarding. He’d have to split before they could, and that would set off the alarms.
Castor is a mining world, which hundreds of years before the natives had stripped nearly all vegetation from the surface in their quest for their precious raw materials. This had the effect of dropping the oxygen in the atmosphere to unhealthy levels. Although the natives adapted, they stilled utilized the vast network of abandoned underground excavations to move the population underground, where they could better regulate the oxygen content. Adam would still have to wear a nose mask when not within an enclosed structure such as a house or a hotel room where the O2 content could be adjusted.
He didn’t like leaving the Najmah Fayd outside in the commercial spaceport, but he had no choice. On the way to Castor, Adam had developed a thread of a plan, based on something Kaylor had told him. He initiated the first phase while still hopping through time and space on his way to the Fringe.
He took a plastic locking wedge from the hangar bay and dripped a half-inch in diameter by two-inch-deep hole into it. Next, he filled the hole with silicone sealant and once it set, he repeated the procedure. He found a marking pen with light blue ink and traced fine lines on his face, after which he glued his silicone creations to his earlobes. After shaving all but a trace of hair from his head, he surveyed image in a mirror. Not perfect, but passable.
Upon landing, Adam contacted Kaylor and Jym and had them meet him at the Najmah Fayd. As the hatch slid open and Kaylor entered, the alien’s shocked reaction wasn’t what Adam was hoping for.
“No! It will not pass,” said the Belsonian.
“Why not?”
“The under-veins are much too prominent, and the capens are—well, they are just not right.”
Adam assumed his ear dangles were called capens. He never knew they actually had a name, even though it made sense that they would. “Sure, I may not fool a Belsonian, but the Nuor don’t have that much experience with all the species in the galaxy. All I want to do is not look like a Human.”
“It is risky, my friend.”
“It’s the best I could come up with.”
What followed was a quick welcoming, both for the Belsonian and for Jym, his four-foot-tall Falqin companion. After the rescue from the Klin colony ship, the pair had been nursed back to health aboard a Human medical ship before being released. They recovered their precious Muleship—the FS-475—and returned to the Fringe. Adam hadn’t spoken with them for over two years.
This homecoming was bittersweet, coming at such a time and under dire circumstances.
“I am to suspect the disguise is part of your plan?” asked Jym.
“It is.” Adam turned to Kaylor. “Tell me more about the work crews and how all that works.”
“The Nuor learned early on that the Castorians were master with ground work and other such construction. About four months ago they enlisted a force of forty thousand to help build their combat arenas on Qidos.”
“But you said they rotate this work force between planets. Why would they do that?”
“Rather than build facilities to house such a large force—plus feed and care for them—the Nuor simply transport half the force between the planets twice a day. They have a large compound not far from Krune where they first dropped the crews, without food or shelter. The natives arrived with tents and supplies, all at their own expense. The Nuor allow this since it provides them with a massive work force without any of the expense of caring for them. All they do is load twenty thousand at a time into huge troop transports and shuttle them back and forth. They have figured it is cheaper to do it this way.”
“But the natives are allowed into the compound to deliver the supplies?”
“That is correct. They are given passes which allow them to leave the compound. However, every thirteen hours the area is cleared of all occupants and placed aboard the transport ships before the current work shift arrives. Anyone still in the compound at that time is taken to Qidos and their passes voided. They become part of the work force from then on.”
“You mentioned others are taken to Qidos as well.”
“Yes, specialists.”
“Like engineers?”
“Correct.”
Adam smiled. “I’d like you to meet the newest construction engineer assigned to the Human facility.”
“Who is that?” Jym asked, confused.
“Me, Jym, it’s me. I’m the new engineer, recently recruited from the local Belsonian population.”
“I was not aware Belsonians were known for their engineering expertise.”
“Well they are now, and that’s all the Nuoreans need to know. Now listen up; here’s my plan.”
********
Adam spent the next two days training Kaylor and Jym on the operation of the Najmah Fayd. Both were excellent pilots and had flown just about every type of starship in the galaxy, so the job was relatively easy. Next, he used his ATD to create a ghost image of the device in the ship’s computer. This would allow for much longer communication between the ship and himself. He added a homing feature into the computer as well.
“Once I’ve found Sherri and the others, I’ll contact the ship and have it home in on my position. I can jump it remotely, but not all the way to the surface. That would be too dangerous. I can get it about
ten miles above the surface, and from there you’ll have to manually pilot it the rest of the way. Once we’re all onboard, we can jump from there out a few hundred light-years to make our escape.”
Kaylor frowned. “You mentioned when we are aboard. Does that mean you, Sherri, Riyad and Copernicus?”
“Well…yeah. Who else?”
“There are several hundred Humans where you are going, according to the reports. What about them?”
Adam hadn’t thought about that. All he’d been concerned with were his friends. “We can’t take everyone aboard the Najmah Fayd. Maybe a few others, if it works out.”
“I was just asking.”
“It was a good question. I’ll think on that a little more, see if there’s anything else we can do for them. Otherwise, I’m sure allied military command is working on a plan. I wouldn’t expect them to be sitting around letting the Nuoreans colonize the Fringe. They have to have something in the works.”
Chapter 22
Admiral Smith still wasn’t happy. All he’d managed to assemble was five thousand seven-hundred ships. The Nuoreans now numbered close to eleven thousand, which was five thousand more than they should have had, meaning they were still bringing new units into the galaxy. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t even consider going up against a force nearly twice his size. If he lost, that would open up the bulk of the galaxy to the invaders. But with the not-so-secret-anymore beam platforms, he felt he had the advantage. Or at least he hoped he did.
The fleet was assembled between the Fringe and the planet Hyben. Smith already had one platform on station; the other two were on their way. In three days they would arrive and then it would be off to the Fringe, with another four days of travel. A fleet his size would be hard to hide, and if the Nuoreans scattered again, he could only pursue three of their fleets. Any of his squadrons without a platform would be fair game for the invaders’ run-and-trap strategy. Honestly, Smith had no idea how many other Nuoreans were in the galaxy, just waiting to ambush any non-platform-protected allied forces.
The antacid he’d taken an hour ago wasn’t helping. He still had the burning in his stomach thinking of the near future. If he got it wrong, the galaxy could be lost. If he was right, the invaders would be badly crippled, but not defeated. They still had ways to enter the galaxy and with no viable plan to stop them. If the Nuoreans wanted to shut down for a while as they developed a counter for the suppressor beam, they could, just to resume the invasion again when ready.
But first things first; Admiral Nathan Smith had to gain the upper hand. If he could produce a respite, then possibly the allies could come up with a more permanent solution to the crisis. If not, then the Milky Way was in for a long, hard slog to the finish line.
Chapter 23
Adam eventually capitulated and let Kaylor modify his disguise. He didn’t see how the changes made that much of a difference, but to the Belsonian they did.
“There, that is better,” said Kaylor. “Yet beware the surprise on the face of another Belsonian if you encounter one.”
Adam had seen the huge worker’s compound from space when he landed but didn’t know what it was. It was located about twenty miles southeast of the spaceports in the middle of an arid desert made up of abrasive red sand. There had been no rhyme or reason why the Nuoreans had set up the camp there; it just seemed like a good place at the time to dump the workers. Since then a wide road had been cut in the desert which the natives used to ferry supplies back and forth.
Using the rotation schedule Kaylor had given him, Adam set off in the early afternoon for the camp. He took a paid transport to the main security gate and stepped out into the hottest part of the day. It was sweltering, with a steady ten-mile-per-hour breeze whipping up dust devils and other huge clouds of ruddy sand. Adam was dressed in a dark blue, one-piece work outfit with a multitude of pockets and an elastic waistband over which he’d placed a small utility belt. He carried no identification or weapons, just the Belsonian disguise he was worried would melt away in the intense heat.
It was nearing the shift change so most of the foot traffic was headed out of the compound. Anyone not out when the transports arrived would be scooped up and hauled away, with all exit privileges revoked.
Adam walked up to the huge guard shack and flagged down a stern-looking Nuorean. The alien was tall, stocky and without a bead of sweat on his head, which made Adam believe the weather on Castor was much like that of Nuor. For his part, Adam wore a full face mask made of clear plastic that shielded his face and eyes from the abuse of the blowing sand, while also feeding a trickle supply of oxygen from a small canister he had clipped to the utility belt.
The guard looked him over, focusing on the dangling appendages from his earlobes. The added scrutiny made Adam mentally thank Kaylor for the time he spent attaching the capens to his ears, otherwise the crude method he’d first used would have been a dead giveaway.
“I am a new conscript,” Adam shouted through the mask. “I am a construction engineer assigned to the Human compound. I was told to report here.”
“How long will you be on Qidos?”
“Maybe three days.”
The alien worked on his datapad. After a moment, he produced a plastic badge from a unit under the computer. “Proceed to the landing area. Any transport will do; they all land at the same spot. Show the badge to a Nuorean guard and you will be directed to the proper ground transport. When leaving, you will return here, yet go to the tech gate for exit. The badge is good for only one exit, three days from now. Proceed forward.”
Adam stepped through the gate and into the compound, surprised by the ease of the entry. But then he snickered. Who would infiltrate a massive compound of conscripted slave labor? Getting in was easy; getting out was a whole other affair.
Early on, thousands of tents had been brought in by the natives. They remained, creating a massive city of canvass in the middle of the desert. This was home to the workers. And when their numbers began to run low, the Nuoreans would simply draft another thousand or so from the native population.
Masses of Castorians—along with a smattering of other species—were gathered around a huge landing field at the far western side of the camp. They moved in slow motion, dejected, with very little talk. These were the workers who had been following this same routine for over four months: transports would land, load up twenty thousand conscripts, and then lift off, leaving the compound empty. Three hours later, other transports would land and deposit the first work crew, comprised of another twenty thousand-strong work force returning from Qidos. Thirteen hours later the transports would return and the process repeated, around the clock, every day. All sleep, meals, and medical care had to be done within this thirteen-hour period. Fortunately, caring volunteers would flood into the prison once the workers were offloaded, with food, water and other supplies and help their fellow natives recover as best they could from their latest shift at hard labor.
Adam mingled with the crowd, ignored for most part until an old Castorian with a craggy face took note.
“You are a new addition,” the native observed. “I have seen your kind, yet I do not recall the name.”
“Belsonian,” Adam answered. “There are not too many of us in the Fringe.”
“Are you a tech?”
“Yes, an engineer, assigned to the Human section.”
The old looked a little sadder. “Your first trip?”
“Yes.”
“The facilities you are constructing are some of the largest. They appear to be many, so I am afraid your time with us will be prolonged.”
“I return in three days.”
The alien snorted. “If you are good, you will not leave. There are places on Qidos where the techs are kept. You will have more value to the invaders than Castorians like me and be treated differently.”
Adam studied the old face. “What is it you do?”
“I am too old for the dirt crews, so I control a mover, huge piece of equipm
ent used to clear space for the arenas. They are building thousands. Many will die, both in the arenas and in the work crews. Many have already.”
Thunder was heard above and Adam looked up to see a line of small black dots descending from the cloudless sky.
“The transports,” said Adam’s new friend. “They carry five thousand each. They arrive empty to load us first. Then the prior shift arrives. The invaders do not want all forty thousand workers merging—too much confusion. This way they clear all from the compound and worry not for identification. If you are here, you go.”
As the ships approached they grew larger until Adam could see they were truly gigantic spacecraft. They would have to be to carry five thousand troops at a time. They landed in a blinding cloud of stinging sand and hot chemical exhaust, before several huge panels opened on each face and the compliant workers began to board.
“Hurry,” said the Castorian. “If we are among the first on, we can enjoy the cooler air inside longer than the later entries.”
Adam followed the old creature. They entered the nearest transport—still radiating intense heat from the landing—and headed for one of the wide stairways leading to the higher levels. The interior of the ship was one large open bay, divided by five floors made of thick metal screen. At the top of the ladder, the old Castorian led Adam to the far back wall. There were hundreds of supports placed between the floor and ceiling on each level—looking like subway poles—along with thousands of canvass loops hanging from the ceiling. The Castorian claimed a spot and took hold of a strap. Adam did the same.
Within five minutes, all five thousand workers for this transport were aboard, and crowding Adam and the old Castorian. One of the natives came up to Adam and stared at him with contempt before moving off. This was probably his spot, but he didn’t have time to make a fuss. The ship lifted thirty seconds later.