by T. R. Harris
Adam stepped back and considered the screen. A spasm of pain shot through his side. He knew he had to get Sherri to patch him sooner rather than later. He had no idea how much blood he’d lost. But looking at the screen gave him renewed energy.
Three arcs. And a possible twenty degrees or so up or down along the arcs. In there, somewhere, was Earth. Somewhere along those red lines was his home.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Marishal was a planet at +24 degrees above the ecliptic and located in Sector 9 of the Juirean Expansion. Positioned on the opposite side of the Core from Juir, it had been incorporated into The Expansion almost six hundred years before. But since the planet was not located along any major shipping lanes, or possessing any great natural resources, Marishal was granted membership into The Expansion, and then promptly forgotten.
Four hundred years before the Juireans swept through the region, the Klin had already established the Marishal system as their sanctuary base. The gravity was very similar to Klinmon, their homeworld, and a neighboring planet provided a sufficient gravity where the various heavy-worlders they tested could be housed.
The natives of the planet accommodated the Juireans when they first arrived, yet kept secret their knowledge of the Klin. The Klin were much more generous than the Juireans, and over the centuries, the Marishallese prospered as master ship-builders for the ever-growing Klin fleet.
The yellow sun was setting over the western mountains, while brilliant flashes of orange reflected off the clouds and the surface of Lake Serenity, filling the room with a soft and soothing glow.
Senior Fellow Limmore stood before the great window and reflected on the scene. It was beautiful here, and it was his home. He had been born here; he would die here as well. But the thought of home often left him feeling hollow inside. Like all Klin, Limmore no longer had a homeworld, only a home, a place to be born, raised and to die. After four thousand years, the sense of not belonging to any one place still burned deep in the hearts of all Klin.
And yet the time for their own act of reckoning was near…
The Human stood behind Limmore and respected his silent revelry. Without turning, Limmore finally said, “The Juireans should be sufficiently apprehensive of your race by now, even if it has not gone completely according to plan.”
Nigel McCarthy, native-born Human, simply shrugged. “The fleet is more than prepared,” he said in a sharp British accent.
Limmore grinned. He turned to face the tall, muscular Human with the reddish hair. “Your race is so impatient, my friend.”
“Your race often over-plans,” was McCarthy’s retort.
“When you’re facing the greatest power in the galaxy, it pays to be cautious. But you’re right. The fleet is ready.”
Limmore turned back to the window. “You may send the beacon. Let the Juireans know the location of Earth.”
Sending transmissions through intergalactic space is fairly simple – if relay stations have been set up ahead of time. Throughout the Expansion, communication was fairly efficient. A message could be sent from Juir to any of the Sectors, and it would be received in a matter of hours.
Yet messages sent into non-Expansion space were a different matter. With faster-than-light travel, it was often quicker just to hand deliver messages. But rather than physically carrying messages from one destination to another, most messages were placed in compact message pods with massive gravity drives. Since no flesh and blood being were aboard the tiny pods, these drives could travel at hundreds of times light speed, creating deeper wells than even the most powerful starships.
So when the remaining Klin in The Fringe were given the order to send the beacon, they sent the pod out in a direct line for the current location of Earth, its encrypted signal broadcasting out along the entire route. If one looked through an optical telescope at the location it pointed to, there would be nothing there to see; the planet had not yet moved to this position, based upon the limits of visible light. But nevertheless, the beacon was sent straight for the planet Earth, pinpointing its location for anyone willing to follow the track.
The truth was, the Klin had long ago set up a series of relay stations in the Far Arm, but these stations were known only to them. Yet this beacon was sent out not utilizing this series of relays. Instead it was sent in the open, and conspicuously past a Juirean monitoring station at the edge of the Barrier.
Although the message was encrypted, the Klin did allow for the Juireans to break the code in a relatively short period of time. And when the words Earth, Humans, Klin, Juireans and invasion were deciphered, the message was sent immediately to the highest authority in The Fringe.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Yan’wal called an emergency meeting of his staff as soon as the message was received.
“Giodol, what else have we learned of this message?”
“It originated here, in The Fringe, and we have a reliable track as to its destination. The translation is reliable.”
“The translation may be reliable, but can the contents be accurate?”
Specialist Eannwen spoke next. “The message speaks of an impending invasion of Expansion space by these Humans. It goes on to say that the forces must be ready within three standard years if they stand any chance of success. The events of the past month are related in the message, including some information only we, in this room, are privy to. I believe the message, and its contents, to be genuine.”
“Thank you, Specialist.” Yan’wal was silent for a moment as he considered his next move. Then he spoke. “I will contact the Council immediately. We have a narrow window of opportunity to strike the Humans before they are fully prepared. We must take it. And we must make our strike decisive.
“Recently, we have seen what a relatively small number of these Humans have been able to do to our forces. One can only imagine what an entire planet of these beasts could achieve. I will be recommending that the Juirean Authority pool nearly all available military resources on this side of the galaxy to send against the Humans. We do not know how many ships they may have already completed.”
“My Lord,” Commander Siegor said, “Should we leave a reserve force in the Sector as insurance against…?” he hesitated speaking the last of this thought.
“Against a defeat, Commander?” Yan’wal finished the sentence for him. “That would be the prudent course of action. Yet with the enemy located so far away, we must take all the firepower and support ships with us as we can. We will not be in position to call for reinforcements should they be needed. We can always bring up additional forces from other Sectors, during our campaign, to stay in reserve. Will that satisfy you, Commander?”
“Of course, My Lord. It’s just that it has been such a long time since The Authority has fought a major enemy of The Expansion. Our forces have been drawn down to their lowest level in a thousand years.”
“Your concerns are noted, Commander. I will recommend to the Council that a major shipbuilding effort be started. If we cannot defeat the Humans with our initial action, then the ships will be needed. It must be our goal, however, to make sure they are not.”
The Overlord looked over his assembled senior advisors. There was concern on their faces. After a moment he spoke. “I have actively studied our history as have few before me, and I am fully aware of the recent history of conflict within The Expansion. And yes, Commander, we have grown complacent and secure in our position, as you have intimated. But every now and then a challenger arises to our power and position. Unfortunately, our memories are short. We can never believe it could happen again.
“It is my belief, after studying the history of our challengers – and seeing the results of these most recent events here in the Sector – that these Humans may be the greatest challenge we have ever faced since the inception of the Mass, and our subsequent Expansion. This threat is grave. We must not fail. The Human race must be eradicated and wiped from existence. I truly believe it is either them…or us.”
Chapte
r Thirty-Four
After Sherri had stitched up his wound, Adam risked the medical computer analysis of his blood and downed a couple of Juirean pain pills. They actually made him feel better, enough at least so he could get some good sleep.
Fourteen hours later he awoke in the captain’s stateroom of the Juirean battlecruiser to find Sherri and Riyad there with him, asleep on a separate couches in the room.
They woke up as he attempted to climb out of the bed. After the extended period of inactivity, his wound, muscles and bones all screamed with pain and stiffness. He attempted to work out some of the kinks with a few stretches, but thought better of it when his side exploded in burning pain.
“You need to take it easy for awhile,” Sherri said, taking a seat next to him on the bed. She pressed the tender skin around the wound and nodded. “Doesn’t look like any infection. You should be good as new in a couple of weeks.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Adam said. He saw her beam. She probably would have made a great veterinarian.
“So, what now? Did you learn anything in the computer room?” asked Riyad from the couch.
Adam looked straight into his eyes. He knew what Riyad was really asking. “No, I did not find the location to Earth.”
“Then where are we going? Your two alien lackeys won’t say.” Riyad’s tone was sharp and accusatory. Adam could tell Riyad didn’t believe him.
“We’re getting out of The Fringe until we can put together a game plan.”
Riyad stood up. “Bullshit! You know something.”
Sherri turned to look at Adam. “We are going somewhere…and fast.”
He couldn’t hide it any longer. And besides, the other Humans onboard would want answers, too. “I only found a partial,” he said. “It should get us in the vicinity, but it could still be a long time before we find Earth – if ever.”
“What are the coordinates!” Riyad demanded.
Adam looked at him curiously. “What good are a set of partial coordinates going to be to you – unless you already have some yourself!” Adam shot to his feet, ignoring the burning in his side.
Riyad blinked several times. Adam knew. “You motherfucker! You already have them – or part of them. What do you know? And when were you going to get around to telling us?”
“I, too, only have a partial.”
“If it’s the right partial, we could have something incredible! What are they?”
“I know the first two coordinates…”
Adam nearly fainted. He sat back on the bed as Sherri moved to put her arm around him. “Are you okay?”
After a moment, Adam had recovered. He nodded, and then said slowly, “I have the last two.”
He could see the excitement build on the faces of his two companions. “What are they? Tell me!” Riyad asked enthusiastically.
“You first.”
Riyad recoiled slightly, but Adam noticed the movement. Riyad began to stammer.
Adam pursed his lips. “I knew it,” he said to Riyad. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Why won’t you!”
Sherri let out a snort. “What are you two, a couple of children?”
“Oh, you don’t know his ultimate plan, Sherri,” Adam said in his defense. “If he got all the coordinates, then he wouldn’t need us anymore.”
Sherri frowned at Riyad. “So what is your agenda, Riyad?”
Riyad hesitated. Then he said, “My plan was just a fantasy. It’s not real. I am not a threat to you.”
“Then give me your coordinates. You know I’m not the one out to take over the world and start a galactic war.”
Sherri stared at Riyad with her mouth open. “No fucking way? Is that what you want to do?”
Riyad was embarrassed, not only for the revelation, but also for the childish sound of the plan when spoken aloud. “Like I said, it was just a thought.” Then he took a deep breath. “Ecliptic minus 4, Sector 21.”
Adam’s jaw tightened, and the Navy SEAL tried hard to fight back the tears. Then he turned to Sherri and grabbed her by her shoulders.
“We’re going home!”
The End
of
Alien Assassin
Be looking for the third book in
The Human Chronicles
saga:
The War of Pawns
(working title)
Coming Summer of 2012
Go to:
TheHumanChronicles.com
For more information about the entire Human Chronicles series.
You can reach author T.R. Harris by email at:
[email protected]