by T. R. Harris
“You think this has something to do with beam nullifiers, don’t you?”
“We can’t think of anything else they would need so quickly and so desperately.”
“So the mission’s an abort.” Smith stated without emotion.
“On the contrary,” said Hollingsworth.
Admiral Smith shook his head. “Pardon me, sir, but how can we go up against a force twice our strength knowing they may have a way of countering our so-called secret weapon?”
“Because we have something new,” said Kushner, with a thin smile. Smith let him talk. “Remember the nuclear torpedoes Captain Cain used during his campaign against the Juireans?”
“Tell me you’ve solved the energy problem,” Smith said with urgency. “The after-action report said he was able to make them work with the help of that energy ball he had.”
“We don’t have an energy ball, but we’ve been able to solve the problem—sort of.”
“Sort of?”
Now the grin grew into a full-blown smile. “We basically bypassed the problem.”
“Dammit, Rolf! Get to the point. I’m launching in nine hours—maybe.”
“Sorry, Nate. What we’ve done is build an entire starship around the torpedoes and packed it with batteries and generators. It’s not as elegant a solution as Cain came up with, but it will work—once.”
“Go on.”
The smile was gone from Kushner’s face, replaced by a serious, professional demeanor. “We still have a power problem, but in order to overcome it we had to go big. The ship is one huge power station, designed to first jump to a location—again only once—and then to power the torpedoes. But then we went a step further. Instead of launching the torpedoes individually, they will all be fanned out at once, forming one gigantic nuclear bloom. And where the most torpedoes Cain launched at a time was six, this weapon will launch forty at a time.”
Smith whistled. “And each with the same yield as Cain’s torpedoes?”
“That’s right.”
Smith locked eyes with Admiral Hollingsworth. “Where’s this ship?”
“We have it stationed on our side of the Barrier,” Hollingsworth replied. “Since the energy requirements are so enormous, it can only do a short trans-dimensional jump, not more than fifty light-years. And remember, Admiral, this is a one-time-use weapon.”
“But it could be a game-changer.”
“If the Nuoreans do have beam nullifiers,” said Rolf Kushner. “Let me warn you, Nate, this is a powerful weapon, more powerful than anything ever detonated before. We’re not sure what affect it will have on the Fringe. Use it only as a last resort.”
“Am I to have operational command?”
“Yes; access codes will be transmitted soon.”
Admiral Smith frowned. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Hollingsworth looked to Kushner, both faces serious. “The impact zone, it’s unknown,” he said. “But estimates predict that with the effective range of the beam platforms, they may be at risk should the weapon have to be deployed.”
“That means so will most of my fleet. So I’ll sacrifice a large part of my force to destroy a large part of the enemies’?”
“The classic definition of a tactic tradeoff.”
That didn’t make Nathan feel any better, knowing he’d achieve a Pyrrhic victory in the end. “But the Nuoreans are still bringing in fresh units from Andromeda. Do have an answer to their buildup?”
“We have the resources of an entire galaxy behind us, Admiral,” Hollingsworth said with venom. “We better have an answer…if we expect to survive.”
Chapter 25
If there was one thing Adam Cain had learned about the Nuor it was that they didn’t procrastinate. When they said they were going to have a major team challenge with the Humans, they meant it. Three hours after entering the barracks, the four prisoners were led out and taken to the completed stadium half a mile away.
They entered through underground tunnels, past holding cells and even a well-stocked armory, yet even then, they could hear the roar of the massive crowd of spectators filling the Grand Arena. Preliminary matches were taking place, and from the joyous sound of the audience, the weak Humans selected for these bouts weren’t fairing very well.
Each of the four Humans assigned to the main event were given matching white uniforms—one piece with no pockets or flaps where weapons could be hidden—and designed to show blood more easily to the distant audience. Rubber-soled, soft-sided shoes were placed on their feet and they were given shin protectors. That was the only armor they were provided.
Finally, weight-belts were locked around their waists, ostensibly to overcome the Human’s physical advantage in the light gravity of Qidos. It seemed the Nuoreans were once again one step ahead of Adam and his team.
Adam had heard the stories of Panur’s fight with the Nuorean leader, so he had some idea what to expect—the most troubling being that the alien had placed poison on his sword. If it had been Adam in the challenge instead of Panur, he would have surely died, if not from the blade, then from the toxin. The same held true for the coming conflict.
Once dressed, the Humans were paraded out into the harsh Qidos sunlight.
The blast of heat was incredible; even the breeze blowing outside was blocked by the towering walls of the stadium, providing no relief. Still, Adam felt energized, confident. When he noticed his emotions, he frowned. This was unusual, even for him. Unfortunately, his teammates weren’t feeling so confident.
This field of battle didn’t have all the blocks, walls, pits and barricades as the one he’d seen before. This was just a flat area with a small pond filled with brackish water and a few small boulders embedded in the hard ground.
Adam looked across the arena and saw an entrance that looked like a baseball bullpen. Nearly a dozen of the grey-uniformed Nuoreans were packed inside, some standing, others seated. There were a lot more than four of them, and Adam sincerely hoped this wasn’t going to be tag-team event. If it was, he had no other players to tag.
The Humans were placed at the center of the field and given three-foot-long, double-sided blades, with metal pommels and four-inch cross-guards. The grips were made of a leather-like material, providing decent tackiness for a firm hold. They were quality weapons, but it wasn’t the Humans’ swords Adam was worried about.
Four of the Third Cadre players marched to the center of the arena. The crowd erupted with deafening cheers. As they approached, Adam studied them. They had distinct features, but not radically so. Even then, their leader—the one known as Azon—stood out. He was six inches taller than the others, with broad shoulders and rippled muscles straining under the form-fitting uniform. The outfits they wore had only very short sleeves, revealing powerful arms, down to the point where forearm guards were strapped in place. They also had shin guards and breastplates—hardly matching the scant protection afforded the Humans.
The huge alien was smiling as he walked up to Adam.
The cut he’d made on Adam’s cheek was only a thin red line. “You heal quickly, Human, yet not fast enough.” He looked over at Sherri. “As you see, I have decided to include you in this team challenge. Your affiliation with the males is the reason. You may not be as strong, yet you may be cunning. We will find that entertaining.”
Adam stepped away suddenly and raised his sword. “Greetings spectators to this glorious event!” he cried out. His voice carried easily to all levels of the stands.
“What are you doing?” Azon asked.
“Just keeping it interesting,” Adam whispered. Then turning again to the crowd, he continued to shout. “As is the custom of people, we wish to offer our weapons in exchange for those of our challengers. In our combat contests, we ritually provide our opponents with the means to kill us, and they to us. It is a time-honored tradition we ask to be observed by the great Nuorean players.”
“There is no such tradition,” Azon growled. “Otherwise the other Humans
would have evoked it.”
Adam continued to speak to the crowd. “The Humans before us were not warriors—players. They did not come with advanced skills and training. We do. And it is the legacy of the player that we bring to this contest today.”
Azon leaned in close. “I know what you are doing. There will be no trading of weapons.”
Adam danced away from the alien. “Ah, I have been informed by your combat leader that he will not honor our tradition of weapons exchange. Then I beg him to accept one small courtesy. Allow us the washing of blades—the purification—so we may meet our deaths with metal of sterility.”
The crowd began to chant.
Azon smiled. “Clever, Human,” he said softly. “Yes, I will grant you this. I did not feel the need for such handicap in the first place. We do not need tricks to defeat you.”
The Nuorean turned to his adoring crowd. “Yes, we will allow the purification of the metal before the contest begins.”
With guarded steps, all eight combatants approached the stagnant pool. The Nuorean submerged their swords up to the cross-guards and then presented the blades to the Humans. Not sure what to do, they stepped forward and used the cloth from their uniforms to dry the metal. The other three members of Adam’s team looking him, worried They knew of the poison blades; they just didn’t know how helpful a quick dip in dirty water would be. Neither did Adam, for that matter, but it couldn’t hurt. It was better than the alternative.
“If you are done with your games, let us begin with mine,” said Azon.
The Nuorean set his fighters back at the center of the arena. Adam did the same.
His heart was racing, excited about the coming fight with the cocky alien. But he was also worried about the others, especially Sherri. She was fronting the shortest of the Nuoreans, but even then, this was a strong, extremely well-trained sword fighter. None of the Humans could say that, not even Adam Cain.
As he was ruminating about their current predicament, the contest began.
In unison—and without a word—the four aliens lifted their swords high above their heads, swung them behind their backs and stepped forward. The whole thing was beautifully choreographed and caught the Humans by surprise.
Fortunately, this first move was not an attack, but more ceremonial. The blades remained locked behind their heads as they marched forward. Adam and his people fell back, shuffling their feet in the thin topsoil, their own blades held out in front of them beckoning for the aliens to stay back. Then the aliens separated, forcing the four Humans to shift their defensive positions. Moments later, they were surrounded and standing nearly back-to-back with each other.
Adam had had enough of this. He lifted his sword and charged. Even with the weight-belt around his waist he was upon Azon in a flash. His sword whipped from left to right and back again several times in a flurry of clanging metal, as the Nuorean fought to achieve some kind of reprieve from Adam’s relentless attack. From behind came more meeting of metal on metal, as the battle was joined between all participants. Azon was retreating in practiced foot slides, expertly parrying each of Adam’s savage swings. The look on his face displayed calm, with just the trace of concern. He had not been expecting this.
But then Adam retreated. In fact, he turned and ran, in Sherri’s direction.
She had stumbled back and fallen, with probing stabs coming at her from the circling alien. Sherri was knocking each of the thrusts—barely—as she shifted her position in the dirt.
Adam was there in a second, feeling his muscles surge as he ran. He jumped, smashing a shoulder into the side of the unsuspecting Cadre fighter. The impact was incredible, sending the alien flying through the air before landing on the dusty ground and rolling into the filthy pond. Adam helped Sherri to her feet.
Azon hadn’t followed as Adam ran away. Instead he was studying the battlefield and the Human’s fighting techniques. Adam took the opportunity to check on Riyad and Copernicus.
His old Lebanese friend was holding his own against his Nuorean opponent. In fact, he seemed quite comfortable with the sword in his hand. In the barracks, he’d told Adam that his people still practiced with sharpened blades, a tradition going back a thousand years. Sure, he was out of practice, but his natural Human strength and coordination was making up for it. The weight-belt slowed him some in his movements, but it didn’t affect the muscles in his arms and shoulders. He was beating the Nuorean back with each thrust of his blade, yet requiring the alien to parry a little more out of line with each response. This is known as the tactics of mistake in fencing, where an opponent is maneuvered out of position a little at a time and without their knowledge. Then you strike
And Riyad did, stepping into the defensive sphere of the Nuorean and impaling his blade completely through the chest of the alien. As the body slipped off Riyad’s blood-slick sword, Adam looked to the bullpen. Sure enough, another Cadre fighter was racing into the fray. So it wasn’t just four Nuoreans they had to defeat, but closer to a dozen.
Adam looked to see how Copernicus was doing against his opponent. The spy was taking a different tact, using others skills he had. As he swung the sword with one hand, he was also actively engaging with other parts of his body, smashing his fist into the alien’s head, or lashing out with perfectly-executed martial arts kicks. Then once the advantage was his, he stepped in close and planted the sword’s metal pommel into the face of the Nuorean. Eyes rolled back in the creature’s head, but he didn’t get the chance to fall. Before he could, Copernicus twisted and brought the leading edge of the blade slicing through the unshielded neck of the alien. The head wasn’t completely severed; it didn’t need to be. Coop was already balanced and ready for the next Nuorean by the time he came running at him from the side of the arena.
Azon was still standing off to Adam’s right, watching the battle unfold, rather than participate. His lips had formed into a thin line, the edges curved up slightly.
Adam turned back to Sherri. Her Nuorean had climbed from the pond, sword still in hand and was fast approaching. Sherri slipped again and fell, her own heavy sword held out to her side. Adam ran to her rescue.
Before he could get there, the alien jumped, landing only a few feet away from Sherri. A look of terror filled her face as the Cadre warrior raised his sword to drive the tip down into her unguarded chest. But then she rolled toward her assailant, bringing her sword across her body at the same time, and planting it into the back of the Nuorean’s knee. He screamed and fell to his knees, dropping his sword while grasping at the bloody wound. Sherri was on her feet a moment later—and with only the slightest hesitation—lowered her blade edgewise onto the alien’s back. The metal cut through cloth and skin, sinking to a depth of three inches or more. The Nuorean fell on his face, still alive but not for long.
Adam arrived at Sherri’s side. “Relax, sweetheart,” she said. “I got this covered.”
And then another Cadre fighter dashed from the bullpen.
There were still a lot of damn aliens to kill, and no matter how much Adam was enjoying himself, he knew he had to put an end to this, soon. He looked at Azon and snarled. It never hurt to take out the leader.
He stepped forward, his eyes focused on the huge alien The Nuorean waited patiently for his arrival.
“Your team is fighting well, Adam Cain,” said Azon. “Yet time—and numbers—are on my side.”
He whirled around, bringing his blade in low and swift at Adam’s midsection. Adam sucked in his gut and parried, avoiding the tip of the alien’s weapon by a fraction of an inch. Azon came at him again, this time with more confidence and style.
“You lead from outside, Human,” Azon said. “Your strikes come after much preparation, hoping to use your superior strength to defeat my defense.” He stepped back and twirled his sword, bringing it down hard on Adam’s blade, causing him to stagger back from the impact. “You see. Speed need not come from exaggerated arcs. A simple twist of the wrist can have the same effect.”
Th
e alien struck again. Adam spun around in time to block the edge, but then his own blade was forced back against his skin, opening up a wound along his back.
Azon smiled. “You bleed, Adam Cain, just like all of us. You are not special, not immortal. I will prove that to you today.”
He struck again from Adam’s left, then quickly again to his right. Adam didn’t have time to balance himself for the second riposte and the alien’s blade opened a wide gash in Adam’s right forearm. Blood gushed from the cut.
Azon stepped away, smiling. Adam knew why.
His right hand was growing numb, with the strange tingling climbing up his injured arm.
“You believe I agreed to your silly purification ceremony because of the mood of the crowd. You were wrong. I agreed because it would make no difference. The toxin is fused with the metal, making it impervious to dirt or moisture.” Azon looked at the wound. “And you should know, there is also no counter to its effects in the arena.”
Adam transferred his sword to his left hand and wiped the blood from the cut on the leg of his uniform. He flexed his fingers, feeling them going stiff. He glared at the smiling alien. “Get it over with, you bastard!”
“No. I prefer to let the poison run its course. It is quite slow…and painful.”
Adam gripped the sword tight in his left hand, gritting his teeth, ready to jump—
He stopped when an ear-piercing alarm sounded throughout the stadium, echoing off the towering walls. But it wasn’t only coming from inside. It was coming from everywhere.
The Cadre fighters stepped back from their opponents, looking to Azon for orders.
Adam could see throngs of Nuorean spectators rushing for the exits, as a voice bellowed through the loudspeakers, instructing them to get to their assigned shuttles. He looked at Azon, who still carried his confident grin.
“It must be your unfortunate fleet is attacking, Adam Cain.”
Adam stood up a little straighter, a ray of hope filling his mind.
Azon shook his head. “Change not your feelings, Human. The attack has been expected…and prepared for. Yes, we know of your influence beam, and more, we know how to counter it. Such weapons are ancient to the Nuor. The surprise your forces produced with the prior engagement was temporary. This time the surprise will be on you.”