by T. R. Harris
Counselor Kronss nodded. “Yes, he appears not to belong to this pack. He’s the one who was taken from the pirate ship, and that Lord Yan’wal has flagged. He appears to be very agitated. It may be a tribal conflict of some sort.”
Siegor had been watching the monitor for over an hour, studying the dynamic among the creatures in the holding cell. Lord Yan’wal had been very surprised to learn that the attacking fleet from Dimloe had consisted entirely of these…Humans, he called them. Siegor had never seen this race before, but reasoned that the Overlord had additional information the Fleet Commander was not privy to.
Yan’wal had been even more upset to learn that not a single Klin had been found, not even among the dead. A strike team had been quickly dispatched to the surface and found the remains of their base on Dimloe. It had been destroyed, and even in the wreckage, not a trace of the Klin. Then to top it off, only one Klin/Human spaceship had been salvaged intact, and that was the one these Humans had surrendered at the conclusion of the battle.
So whatever secrets they would learn about the technology and intentions of the Klin would all have to come from this one ship and the Humans in the holding cell.
Siegor told the Counselor that he would begin his interrogations now and directed him to bring in the apparent leader of the Humans, along with the dark-haired rebellious one. It would be interesting to study their interaction during the questioning. Often what was not said could reveal more than what was actually spoken.
In fact, as guards entered the holding cell and selected the two Humans to accompany them, Siegor noticed on the monitor that the red-haired Human began to protest loudly when the other Human was singled out to join him. It wasn’t until four more guards swept into the room and forcefully pulled them out that the leader appeared to accept the situation.
Under heavy guard, Riyad and Ross were brought into a cold metal room with bare walls and strapped into chairs before a single metal table. Then a hulking Juirean, with his distinctive mane of light green hair, entered and took a seat across the table from them. The guards remained.
After a few moments of silence, the Juirean nodded to the guard next to Ross. Abruptly he lifted his flash rifle and smashed it hard against the side of Ross’s head. Ross immediately screamed out in pain, nearly falling into unconsciousness. Then the guard next to Riyad did the same to him. The blow was strong, but not incapacitating, not nearly hard enough to knock out a Human. Riyad did not cry out, but rather simply shook his head and stared back at the Juirean.
After a few moments, Ross appeared to regain his senses. Riyad sensed that something just didn’t seem right…
“I hope I now have your attention,” the Juirean began. “I am Fleet Commander Siegor. You have committed the gravest crime against the Juirean Authority and The Expansion. There will be no mercy, not in light of the tremendous loss of life and material your attack has caused.”
“Fuck you!” Riyad spit out. “It was your ships that attacked us!”
Ross suddenly sobered up and shot a stare at Riyad that could freeze water.
The Commander glanced down at his datapad and at the transmission he had received just moments before entering the room. “You would be Riyad Tarazi, the titular leader of the now-disbanded Fringe Pirates.”
Riyad was taken aback slightly with the revelation. “So my reputation precedes me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You are simply a side note to the main events taking place here.” Then Siegor turned to address Ross. “What I’m more interested in learning is who are you, and what is your association with the Klin.”
Ross sat up a little straighter and stared back at the Juirean. “I am Kyle Ross,” he stated with authority in his voice, “and the more appropriate question should be, what is the Klin association with us.”
Ross’s bombastic attitude seemed out of place to Riyad. There were so many contradictions in Ross’s entire demeanor that Riyad was just as anxious to hear the results of the interrogation as was the Juirean. Someone around here – either these odd Humans or the mysterious Klin – knew the location of Earth. And that was all Riyad was ultimately interested in.
The Juirean recoiled slightly at Ross’s statement. “What do you mean? You are using the technology of the Klin and harboring their kind. I will get this information out of you – or from one of your fellow beings—”
“We are harboring no one.” Ross interrupted. “We have used the Klin for our purposes and have extracted all the information we need from them. They resisted at first, but what few of them who were left have scattered after the attack. They are of no further use to us, or to anyone else.”
The Juirean Commander was speechless for a moment as he stared at Ross. Riyad was stunned as well. Finally the Juirean regained his voice. “You cannot be serious. You make it sound as if you are the masters and the Klin are the servants.”
Ross nodded. “That’s right. We Humans are the true force in the galaxy, as you will soon learn.”
“No, Human, Juireans are the superior force, and have been for thousands of years. You are just an insignificant race using the technology of a near-extinct civilization.”
Ross just laughed. “So you think the Klin provided us with all the technology and weapons that allowed us to nearly destroy your fleet? I can say that the Klin have helped augment our ships and weapons. But it was we who manned the ships and guided the weapons.”
“And it was you and your kind who were defeated in the battle.”
“This is just the first of many such battles. Once our forces on Earth are ready, we will lash out at your kind with no mercy.”
Riyad could not believe his ears! What the hell was Ross talking about? Unless things had changed drastically on Earth in the past seven years, his homeworld was nowhere near capable of competing against the Juirean war machine. And from his brief conversation with Adam Cain, nothing much had changed on Earth since he’d been taken. Unless, of course, an entire underground operation was taking place on Earth, preparing for the coming battle…
“Where are your other bases!” Siegor demanded as he nodded at the guard next to Ross again. And once again the butt of the rifle crashed into Ross’s temple. This time Ross simply shook it off.
“There are no other bases, and only a handful of the Klin still exist. And they are under our control. We were the forward base, keeping an eye on your activities.”
“Then where is this planet Earth of yours? You will tell me, now!”
Riyad perked up. This could be it—
“I will die before I will tell you, Juirean!”
Shit!
Siegor pushed back from the table and stood. “You – or your other Humans – will tell us. I guarantee it. As we peel away your skin and pluck out your eyes, you will talk! You will know more pain than you have ever imagined, and each of you will watch the others die, knowing that they will soon be experiencing the some agony. Believe me when I say, one of you will talk.”
The Siegor turned to leave the room, but at the doorway he turned back to Ross. “And once we have the location of your precious homeworld, you will all know the wrath and power of the Juirean race. We have exterminated races before. We can certainly do it again!”
Riyad and Ross were returned to the holding cell, and once there, Ross rejoined his group without saying a word to Riyad. As a matter of fact, none of the other men in the room even approached Ross to ask him what had happened, and Ross did not tell. The entire scene was so surreal.
Riyad went into the grooming station and splashed water on his face, and examined the swollen red mark on his forehead from the butt of the alien’s rifle. His head hurt, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Ross, on the other hand, had taken two blows to the head, and Riyad was confused with Ross’s reaction to both. With the first one he appeared to overreact; the second, he simply ignored.
Ross eventually entered the room and began to tend to his wounds as well. He ignored Riyad, who quickly backed away from the s
ink and glared at the younger Human.
“What the fuck was that all about?”
Ross ignored him, as he dabbed away the small amount of blood on his temple.
Riyad took a step toward Ross and grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face him. But before Riyad knew it, three other men grabbed him from behind and threw him into the main room. Then it all became a blur, as no telling how many of the Humans joined in to pummel Riyad viciously, smashing him in the face and kicking his ribs. After a few moments, the blows all began to run together, and he could no longer feel them. His vision blurred and his ears rang. Then slowly, his smoky vision began to collapse in on itself, and the welcoming darkness of unconsciousness came to Riyad Tarazi.
Siegor had linked the monitor in the holding cell with the transmission to Lord Yan’wal, allowing the Overlord to view the beating of the dark-haired Human in real time. Yan’wal was confused. Why would the Humans attack another of their kind so viciously? And this was the Human who had been aboard the Klin – or was it a Human – starship.
Yan’wal was still trying to digest the information from the first interrogation, and whether or not he had his entire premise turned upside down. Were the Humans really the masterminds of this entire conspiracy against The Expansion? And if that were the case, then maybe this other Human, this Riyad Tarazi, might have information that the others did not want him to reveal?
He made up his mind: He would segregate this Human from the others–
The Senior Overlord was distracted by what he saw on the monitor. Without a word, all thirteen of the other Humans had formed a cluster in the center of the room, closed their eyes and turned their heads to the ceiling. Then in unison, they reached behind their right ears and removed what appeared to be clear strips of tape about ten centimeters long. And then they all placed the strips on their tongues.
Almost instantly, the creatures began to convulse violently, as froth began to spit from their mouths, and they gasped for breath. Seconds later, they all collapsed in a heap in the center of the room, even before Siegor could reach the comm unit to alert the guards. Yan’wal watched as panicked sentries rushed into the room and descended on the now-still pile of Human flesh.
It was too late.
Yan’wal tightened his jaw and let out an angry sigh. The enigmatic Humans were dead, and along with them their secrets and those of the Klin—
Then a guard shouted into his comm unit. One of the Humans was still alive! Siegor was on the link instantly. After a moment, he turned to the small screen on his desk and addressed the Overlord. “It’s just the pirate, My Lord, not one of the others.”
A cloud of disappointment descended on Yan’wal. This particular Human was outside the circle of the others. He was not privy to all their knowledge, he was sure. And yet there was still a link between them, somewhere. Within the well-trained and disciplined mind of the Senior Overlord, a plan began to take seed. Within seconds he had made up his mind.
“Commander,” he said to Siegor, “here is what I want you to do…”
Chapter Fourteen
Zoluoff Ransin was Holaconese. The Sector 7 planet was one of the major commercial centers of The Expansion, located seven hundred light years on the far side of the Core from Juir. It boasted a population of over four billion natives, not including the billion or so off-worlders who had settled on the planet. Holacon was cosmopolitan and progressive, which made Ransin’s current assignment in The Fringe Worlds that much more disappointing.
Ransin had begun his career with the Holacon Security Force, where he had excelled through ruthlessness and cunning. Yet during his time with the Force, his unique native abilities could not be utilized fully, not until he joined the Juireans and moved off-planet.
The Holaconese were color-shifters. Like certain reptiles and plants, chemical reactions in their skin allowed them to blend with a variety of backgrounds, and when combined with special tint-sensitive clothing, allowed them to essentially disappear from view under certain lighting conditions. Off-planet, Holaconese were much-sought-after covert agents. Even though small and weak in stature, they were able to infiltrate physical locations undetected with relative ease.
With Juireans so recognizable – and so few in number – the need for competent agents to do their legwork was an on-going requirement. So after attracting the attention of certain Juirean officials on Holacon, Ransin began to pick up more and more freelance assignments offworld, utilizing his investigative, as well as physical, skills with frequent success.
Ransin had migrated to The Fringe two years before as part of the entourage of the new Sector Overlord, Oplim Ra Unis. Oplim was an up-and-comer in the Juirean Overlord corps, and Ransin had ingratiated himself into Oplim’s favor four years earlier, believing him to be Ransin’s path to power and fortune. But when the young Overlord was transferred to The Fringe, Ransin found himself stuck in the armpit of the galaxy, and at a loss as to what he could do to get out of it. Having been born and raised in a more affluent and progressive society, Ransin appreciated the finer things in life, of which The Fringe was almost totally devoid of.
The planet Castor was one of the rare exceptions, if only by Fringe standards. Because of the planet’s wealth in nature resources, it did possess more than its fair share of opulence and decadence – even though looking at it from space one would never have guessed. But money attracted even more money, and with money came the need to buy more lavish things.
So Castor was Ransin’s home base of operations. He could have stayed on Melfora Lum, near the hub of Juirean power in The Fringe, but that planet was more staid and uptight than Castor. Everyone there was too afraid of insulting the temperamental Juireans.
When the file had come over regarding a matter needing his special attention, Ransin had been expecting the usual; an investigation into some purported threat to a high official or such. So he yawned as he clicked open the file on his desk computer. To his surprise, this one was different.
A Juirean shuttlecraft had been stolen, and Ransin was being assigned the task of tracking it down. This news came as a shock Ransin, not only from the audacity of the thief, but also from the question as to how it was done.
Ransin read over the file with renewed interest.
The shuttle had belonged to Counselor Deslor Lin Jul, Lord Oplim’s senior counselor, with whom Ransin had had various dealings with in the past. Ransin knew that both the Overlord and Deslor had died in a tragic accident aboard a starship several months back, the result of a malfunctioning gravity generator, it was reported. The news of Oplim’s death had hit Ransin especially hard, not from any great affection he held for the Overlord, but rather from the sickening realization that he was probably stuck in The Fringe for the foreseeable future.
What had prompted this investigation was the fact that Deslor’s shuttle had been recorded as departing Hildoria two standard days before, course unknown. What the ship was doing there, and where it was going were his two most pressing questions.
In his two years in The Fringe, Ransin had already developed a fairly extensive network of junior agents and informants, so the first thing he did was open a link to one of his more reliable operatives on Hildoria. It wasn’t long before a picture of recent events on the planet began to develop.
The shuttle had departed the port at Jaxas within a couple of hours of the assassination of a local, yet prominent, crime lord. His source had been able to verify other information as well, including the rumor that the crime lord – the late Kunnlar Bundnet – had been targeted for assassination as a result of his run-in with the Gangs on Castor. Within the hour, Ransin had learned that the major area of Bundnet’s most recent operations had to do with counterfeit technology, and on Castor, that meant only two major players: Seton Amick or Ga’lick Mo Viss. If the stolen shuttle was being used by the assassin, then Castor would be his destination, and one of these two Castorians would be his employer.
His agent on Hildoria also had a pretty good lock on
the assassin himself. It was more-than-likely a creature called a Human. It took Ransin a scan of the Library to learn exactly what a ‘Human’ was. He was intrigued to learn that their homeworld of Earth (dirt?) was located outside The Expansion, somewhere in the Far Arm. How this creature came to be in The Fringe was another question to be left for another day.
After a quick calculation, Ransin knew that the shuttle had either already arrived on Castor, or would be within the next day. Another link, and Ransin had his spotters at their screens, monitoring all incoming craft to the Krune spaceport. If the assassin did arrive in the very distinctive Juirean spacecraft, Ransin would know about it immediately.
So the Juirean agent left his rather flamboyant office near the city center and boarded a train for the more affluent section of Krune, where both of the crime lords resided. His assignment was simply to observe and report. And that he was very good at.
However, during the train ride, Ransin received a transmission and was disappointed to learn that the stolen shuttle was already on Castor. He had been hoping to observe the arrival of the assassin and be able to track him to one of the crime lord’s residences. Now he would be playing catch-up.
Seton Amick’s property was the closest to his drop off point, and when the transport neared the neighborhood, Ransin was caught in the middle of a conglomeration of official vehicles and curious bystanders crowding the street. Exiting the vehicle, the agent mingled among the crowd for a few minutes, asking questions and listening to the conversations.
Soon he learned that Seton Amick was dead, and that the authorities had tracked the killer to the main street about a kilometer from the residence. He climbed back in the transport and headed in that direction.
The traffic had cleared somewhat by the time he arrived, and he was quickly able to identify the police authorities as they were setting up a command post at a nearby intersection. Ransin approached and pulled out his Juirean identification card. Almost immediately, a burly Castorian in a gold outfit came forward to greet him.