by T. R. Harris
“What did you expect us to do?”
“We expected you to sit down with all the other city-states and form an alliance—like civilized people—not to wage bloody war on such a horrific scale. From your actions, you proved too barbaric to be considered civilized.”
The Overlord appeared stunned by the comment. “Your expectations were naïve. That is not how the strong unite. Yet even then, we did not wish to kill our kind in such numbers! It was your ambiguity that left confusion in its wake. We had no choice but to unite by force.”
“And it is force you excel in, Lord Oplim. Your kind delights its implementation, even as you revel in the mass murder you are committing as we speak.”
Now the Overlord laughed. In the heat of the moment, Simlan did not consider it unusual.
“You are correct in this instance, Simlan. I am enjoying the slaughter of your people. It has been long in planning and anticipation.”
“You will not kill us all! You do not have the means.”
Oplim dropped down on one knee, bringing his huge head and blue mane closer to the frail Klin on the floor. “On that you are wrong. You have failed to monitor the production of several hundred additional warships we built on Juir. You allowed us only a few initially, yet from them we learned your secrets. We have ample Juirean warships and troops above your world, as well as all the worlds within the Cluster. Others will feel our wrath this day, yet none like the Klin. Within days, your race will be extinct.”
Simlan grit his teeth and snarled at the alien. “You are indeed savages, unworthy of association with civilized people. The Juireans are the weak among the intellectually strong. Your kind will eventually fade away, consumed by your own barbaric ways.”
“You are wrong again, Simlan. We will reign supreme. The Klin believe that technology makes you strong. The truth is the weak build technologies so they can stand at the shoulders of the strong. Yet the strong use technology to become even more powerful, more dominant over weak creatures like you. That is our destiny—Juirean destiny. A galactic empire will be forged from the ruins of Klinmon. But it will be a Juirean Empire, not Klin. And our destiny begins today.”
“The Klin will survive!” Simlan screamed. “There are millions off-planet. They will survive to avenge what you do to us this day.”
“That is true, some will survive. Yet we will pursue the survivors. We will place bounties on your lives, and rewards for knowledge of your hiding places. Nowhere in the galaxy will the Klin be safe. Not now. Not ever.”
Through tear-filled eyes, Simlan stared at the evil monster before him. How could this be happening? Only moments before, the Klin—his Klin—reigned supreme. Now he understood the seriousness of the situation. Yes, the Juireans would destroy Klinmon; the planet had no defense other than the traitorous creatures from Juir. The aliens would march unopposed across the landscape, leaving death and destruction in their wake.
But then a thought crossed Simlan’s mind, a thin sliver of consolation. “The treachery of the Juireans will be broadcast for all to see,” he declared. “You may win the day, but you will lose the future. You will become pariahs among the civilized, forever shamed by the horrific acts you commit today.”
To Simlan’s surprise, Oplim laughed again. “Perhaps it will be as you say. However, you must consider that the true nature of this conversation will be lost in the streams of time, for there will be no Klin left to relate your version of events. It will be told only through the eyes of the Juireans. And a very different story it will be. In ages to come, it will be the villainy of the Klin that brought about your destruction, a justified uprising against an evil race of heartless beings. That is the message that will be told for millennia to come. I am sorry, Simlan, but for the Klin, there will be no glory found in your defeat, only the insult of death. Accept reality. The Klin shall never rise again.”
Simlan didn’t see the small blade Oplim produced from under his cape, but he felt its sharp tip plunge deep into his chest.
The Overlord left the room shortly thereafter, leaving Simlan alone to experience the cold of his approaching death. Long afterwards, his dead eyes were still open, staring at the ceiling. There were no Klin left to attend to his lifeless body.
The Reckoning had begun….
1
Four Thousand Years Later…
With growing satisfaction, Cosnin Oblinus studied the map on the opposite wall of his chambers. Contrary to popular belief, the Klin were not beyond emotion; it just took a lot to impress his kind. And at the moment, Cosnin was ecstatic.
It appeared to be a small victory, at least on the scale of a galaxy. Yet the silver shading on the map—covering one full arm and several side spars—could be seen from across the room. Cosnin chose the marking color himself to match the shimming sheen of Klin skin. This was the region of the galaxy under his complete control. Although there was still a very large swath left to conquer, his forces had made remarkable progress over the past year, more so than during any prior campaign by the Klin. And as the current Pleabaen, Cosnin would get all the credit.
Gazing at the map during his quiet times gave Cosnin a sense of pride and accomplishment. For millennia, his people had been hunted like animals, despised and shunned by all within the galaxy displayed on the map. Even to this day, the Juirean savages still boasted in propaganda broadcasts the supposed words of Overlord Oplim ra Unic on the first day of the Reckoning. Whether the actual conversation was exactly as related, Cosnin had his doubts. But it was enough to serve as a clarion call for the Klin throughout all the centuries to come:
“The Klin shall never rise again.”
Cosnin smiled. The map on the wall said otherwise.
The Pleabaen’s quiet time came to an end when it was announced Robert McCarthy had arrived and was on his way to Cosnin’s chambers. The Klin leader sighed. He knew the Human was due in at this time, having been off-planet coordinating the evacuation of Corfer and making arrangements for all remaining Klin to consolidate on Vesper. McCarthy had protested Cosnin’s decision to reunite the Klin at one location; he felt it imprudent to do so, making them a single target for their enemies. But with the current status of the war, the Pleabaen no longer felt the precautions necessary. Expansion and Union forces were in such a state of panic that no concerted effort could be launched this far into Klin territory.
That last phrase brought a surge of joy to Cosnin: Klin territory.
It was true. The Klin now had territory they could call their own. This had not been so for over four thousand years. And the territory of the Klin was growing larger with each passing day. Because of this, the Pleabaen wanted his people together again, rather than scattered across the galaxy, still hiding like mur-rats in the backwater. The Klin no longer needed to cower in fear. It was the galaxy that now feared the Klin.
The short, thin Human with a fuzz of red hair atop his head entered the large room and approached Cosnin with appropriate reverence. He bowed slightly.
“I am pleased to once again be in your presence, my Pleabaen,” said Robert McCarthy.
Cosnin nodded. “You are welcome, my friend. Please, be seated at my table.”
McCarthy was a second-generation Human—a 2G they called themselves. He had been born off the planet of his blood-relatives and raised by the Klin. Although Cosnin occasionally had to tolerate his latent alien behavior, the Pleabaen knew that in many ways McCarthy was more Klin than Human. He had never set foot on Earth, yet had received additional training in the ways of his race from his father, Nigel McCarthy, until he was indistinguishable from the real thing. Cosnin often wondered how the Human operation would have gone if all 2Gs had been trained as such? Events might have unfolded differently.
“Is Corfer secure?” Cosnin asked.
“The site is now empty and all tracks to Vesper covered.” Cosnin saw the alien frown. “I still wish to log my protest. I believe it to be a mistake to cluster all Klin at one location. Our enemies are resourceful and will see this
as a tempting target.”
Cosnin smiled. “If you refer to our mutual nemesis Adam Cain, you need not worry.”
McCarthy’s face lit up. “You have news?”
Cosnin had been anxious to share the report with the Human. But he chose to wait until McCarthy was in his presence to fully experience the alien’s reaction, rather than make the announcement over a CW link. “Yes, there is.”
“Is he dead?”
“Not yet…but soon.”
McCarthy frowned. “Please brief me fully. Playing games with my concern over Adam Cain is not welcome.”
Cosnin leaned back slightly. That was a rather rude comment, he thought. The Human was truly distraught, growing angry—and insubordinate—at the mere mention of the name Adam Cain. The Pleabaen had previously absolved Robert of all responsibility for Cain’s escape from Corfer, Cosnin being just as perplexed as the Human by the facts surrounding the event. Still, McCarthy had taken it upon himself to shoulder most of the blame. This made the news the Pleabaen was about to impart even more satisfying.
“Through our spies on Formil, Adam Cain and his companions have been tracked to a planet called Pyrum-3. Apparently it served as a staging ground for his team immediately after the Humans relinquished control of the Expansion several standard years ago and began working directly for Administrator Kroekus.”
“Yes, I recall the world in the history of Adam Cain,” said Robert. “Please continue.”
“Following his escape from our custody, Cain traveled to Earth and absconded with a prototype starship capable of inter-dimensional travel.”
Cosnin saw Robert tense, his light blue eyes locked intently on the Pleabaen.
“The Humans have TD starships?”
Cosnin shook his head. “They have the components, yet have failed to solve a power supply problem.” He laughed. “Apparently, Adam Cain found the solution for them.”
Robert leaned in closer, his face stern. “You make light of this development, my Pleabaen. You know what Cain will do with such a ship.”
Cosnin returned the frown, growing upset with the Human’s sudden intensity and border-line insubordination. “He obviously wishes to contact the mutants, if that is what you mean?”
“It is. He seeks Panur and Lila Bol so they can find a way to defeat our machines.”
“Our machines are invincible, my friend.”
“Nothing is invincible,” Robert countered, much to Cosnin’s chagrin and surprise. “Just because we can’t figure a way to defeat them, doesn’t mean the mutants can’t.”
“I thought it would be welcome news that Adam Cain has been located,” Cosnin barked.
“Not if he has the means to locate the mutants.”
“Then what I tell you next will bring even more disappointment. He has already found the mutants…and they are on Pyrum-3 with him.”
McCarthy pressed back in the chair and stared at Cosnin. “Why are you so…so cavalier with this news?”
“Because Cain’s island base has been attacked by forces from the Expansion, Earth…and even the Nuoreans—”
“The Nuoreans? Are they still a factor in the galaxy?”
“Apparently, and all three parties were there seeking the trans-dimensional starship. Fortunately, they did not succeed.”
Now the Human looked even more confused. “Fortunately?”
“Yes, because that means we may still acquire the vessel. You will be pleased to learn that I dispatched a VN-91 to Pyrum-3 as soon as I learned Cain was there. The ship has now arrived and is preparing to unleash a force of combat modules to the surface to kill Cain and his supporters.”
The Human’s reaction was not what Cosnin expected. Robert’s mouth hung slack and his eyes unblinking.
“Are you crazy?”
Cosnin’s eyes blinked several times, stunned by McCarthy’s insulting question. He had never seen the Human like this, and now Cosnin’s impression of the 2G was changing with each passing second and every obstinate reaction.
McCarthy spoke into the tension filling the room. “You say the mutants are with him, and that you will be sending robots to the surface? You do know the mutants are immortal? Our units will not kill them.”
“But they will kill Cain and the others. Then without support from their sponsors, the mutants may simply return from wince they came.”
McCarthy shook his head. “Who talks like that?” Before Cosnin could reply, Robert continued. “Cain brought the mutants here to find a way to defeat our ships. Now you have delivered such a vessel to them on a silver platter. It’s just what they need to analyze. I hate to disappoint you, my Pleabaen, but your robots will not kill Adam Cain or the mutants. They will work together to survive. Then Panur will use his genius to find a weapon against us.”
“That is not so,” Cosnin countered. “From reports, Cain’s team consists of only seven mortal individuals—”
“And now the mutants.”
“Yes, and now the mutants. We will deliver several thousand combat units to the surface. And since Pyrum-3 is of no strategic value, all the modules will be directed to the area where Adam Cain and the others are present.”
“It won’t fucking matter!”
“You attitude is unacceptable, Robert McCarthy! You forget your place.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe what an incredibly bone-headed thing you’ve done. Order the ship to leave immediately before the mutants have a chance to study it.”
Cosnin was taken aback by the issuance of an order at his person, and especially by a non-Klin. Yet he retained his demeanor. Only moments before McCarthy entered his chambers Cosnin had spoken with the single Klin aboard the huge warship. It was from that conversation he’d learned of the arrival of the glowing, egg-shaped spaceship and the emergence of its two occupants. He had no direct confirmation that they were the mutants, but from the sophistication of the craft, it was a logical conclusion to draw. He checked the clock on his desk. The release of the robots from orbit was scheduled for…now, so what was to happen on the surface of Pyrum-3 was already in motion. The question now became: what would happen next?
Even through his anger, Cosnin could see the logic in McCarthy’s argument. The mutants were an unknown in the equation, and the Pleabaen had saved them a lot of time and effort by bringing a VN-91 to the planet.
He pressed a button on his desk and spoke without waiting for a reply. “On my command, order VN-91 seventeen to leave the Pyrum system immediately at maximum speed. Enter a gravity-well at the earliest opportunity and proceed into open space to await further orders.” He pressed the button again, knowing the message would be relayed and obeyed without question.
The Human still sat straight-backed and tense, Cosnin’s withdrawal order having failed to resolve the issue to his satisfaction. It had also failed to resolve the Pleabaen’s issues with Robert McCarthy. He knew Humans were emotional creatures, often letting feelings rule their actions. But it wasn’t just the nature of the insubordination that bothered Cosnin. It was the fact that the Human had frightened him. He knew each member of the primitive race was a latent killing machine, incredibly strong and instinctively skilled. And the one sitting across the desk from him was no exception.
2
The beach was littered with dozens of dead Nuoreans.
Adam Cain would have preferred them to be Klin, but Nuoreans would do for the time being.
The Humans commandos were gathering their equipment and boarding Zodiac speedboats, preparing to head off across the narrow channel to the mainland, licking their wounds in the process. A larger force of Expansion troops was doing the same. Adam let them go. He was already in enough trouble as it was. Adding the deaths of a few of his fellow Humans or quasi-allies wouldn’t help.
The gray-skinned mutant Panur was trailing along beside him, his unblinking eyes taking in not only the carnage and confusion on the beach, but the utter destruction of two of the three buildings to their right. The residence and the admin buil
dings were in shambles, but the hangar was still intact, even though it had sustained some damage after it was discovered the trans-dimensional starship was not inside. The huge, rusting freighter dominating the landing pad at the west end of the island was also relatively unscathed. The attackers had been preoccupied with other targets to focus their attention on the ugly spacecraft. Besides, they probably thought it was just an inoperable pile of junk.
Occasionally, Adam felt Panur’s eyes linger on him. The mutant had arrived just as Adam was hovering on a firm cushion of air controlled by his artificial telepathy device and aided by the tiny cluster of mutant brain cells—Panur’s brain cells—residing in his head. So far, Panur hadn’t commented on the event, although Adam knew he was searching his genius brain for how it was done.
“Compression…by static electricity!” the mutant finally declared. “Yet that would require near-spontaneous creation and exceptional control. You have surely advanced in the finer manipulations of your brain-interface device, my friend.”
“I was just playing around one day and discovered I could do it…at least on a small scale,” Adam replied. “Then I just kept working on it.”
“Well…you have apparently mastered the technique. I shall have to try it myself.”
“You should. It’s really a lot of fun.”
Panur stepped over the bloody severed head of a Nuorean. “I’m sure it is.”
Adam had to change the subject. He couldn’t allow the mutant to focus any more of his considerable brain-power on analyzing Adam’s abilities.
“Where have you been?” he asked. “And have you been monitoring events here in the Milky Way?”
Panur smiled. “As to where we have been…we’ve been around. And as for monitoring events…some. I understand the Klin are causing trouble for you again.”
“Not just me, the entire galaxy. And they’re being helped by the son of Nigel McCarthy.”