by T. R. Harris
The three other Humans—Tobias, Rutledge and Tindal—were another story. If looks could kill, Nigel McCarthy would have suffered the most agonizingly painful and creative death possible at the hands of the three SEAL's. As it was, the ex-British SAS Major was quick to recognize the looks and did his best to ease the growing tension.
“I know I've done some shitty things in the past, mates, but that's all over now. The galaxy has changed and there's not a lot of room for people like me out here anymore. When I got back to my base, my traitorous scientists had destroyed my entire operation and killed off almost my entire crew. What was left wasn't worth salvaging. So you see, I have nothing; it's now time to return home and face the music.”
“So what did happen to the rest of your crew, McCarthy?” Admiral Tobias asked, not even close to being convinced that Nigel was sincere. “Did you have them for dinner?”
McCarthy cringed some knowing how close to the truth that statement was—if not for him, then the survivors of his pitiful crew. “I set them free. Some got medical attention, others were given passage on one of my other ships to the planet of their choice,” he lied. “I'm not sure any have returned to Earth, at least not yet.”
“If it's known that they were part of your army of terrorists and murderers, I doubt if their homecoming would be that welcome.”
“That’s what I hope to remedy with this mission, Admiral.”
John Tindal stepped up to the six-foot-four-inch tall Brit, his own large stature equaling that of McCarthy's. “You know you're in the lion's den here, mate, and that if it wasn't for Riyad you'd be a frozen-solid lump of floating debris outside the ship right about now. Just do your fucking job ... and then we'll decide how to treat you after that.”
“That's fair, Petty Officer Tindal," Nigel said, looking more penitent than any of them had ever seen him before. “I understand that only my actions will mean anything to you and the rest of your team. But now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the bridge and start our journey to Elision." Then he paused and offered a wicked-looking grin back at Tindal. “That, my friend, will be the real lion's den.”
Chapter 9
The space around the Kracori homeworld of Elision was cluttered with spaceships of all makes and models, including dozens of Volseen vessels. Being the closest of the Nebula worlds to Elision, the Volsee were enthusiastic supporters of the Kracori against the ravenous Human invaders. For generations the two races had interacted, but only now was the association able to be revealed. A warlike race in their own right, the Volsee idolized the much stronger and experienced Kracori, envious of their near-assumption of complete control of the Expansion only a few short years before. They also knew it had been the Humans who spoiled the Kracori prospects of ruling the galaxy. And now the Humans were coming for them. They would be ready, offering everything in their arsenal to the Kracori to help defeat the creatures from Earth.
At the time McCarthy secured the Volseen ship this new dynamic in the Nebula didn’t exist. He had simply been looking for a ship built by a race of beings he knew to be privy to the Kracori’s secret. With the planet’s whole-hearted alliance with the gray aliens, the job of maneuvering the Volseen ship into a close orbit above Elision was greatly enhanced. His was only one of many now adorning the space above Elision.
The Formilian warriors had taken to the controls of the ship quickly, so McCarthy was able to leave the bridge and join the rest of the assault team in the rear landing bay. Seeing the four SEALs decked out in tactical gear from head to toe brought back a pang of nostalgia for the former SAS officer. He had spent eight years in the service before being abducted by the Klin, which was a lifetime of experience compared to most other professions. Looking back on it now, those were the best eight years of his life, even counting all his wild adventures in space.
Adam Cain looked up when Nigel entered the bay, the monocular nightvision goggles strapped around the circumference of his Kevlar helmet. “You are coming with us, aren’t you?” Adam asked rather harshly. “You’re our guide on the surface.”
“I was counting on it, Captain,” he replied as he lifted a gear pack off the bulkhead and began to pull out its contents. He could tell Cain thoroughly resented the fact that he had to rely on him for assistance; it was all McCarthy could do to keep from displaying his satisfaction with the situation. Anything to annoy the uppity Yank was fine by him.
With quiet precision and professionalism, the now five special forces operatives went about preparing for their mission, even silently checking McCarthy’s gear to make sure all was in order. On the surface of the alien world, they would have only themselves to count on—including McCarthy. Each of the SEALs knew that the Brit had skills every bit the equal of their own, although you’d never hear them admit it. And having a member of the team with firsthand knowledge of the terrain only added to their confidence and determination.
Soon they were boarding the shuttle. Adam walked over to Sherri who had been silently leaning against an outer pressure hull watching the team prepare.
“I’m sorry you can’t come along,” he said to her in a whisper.
“No you’re not,” she said, no trace of anger in her voice. “You were right. I would have only endangered the mission. You guys are pros at this.” And then she grinned. “But I do really like killing aliens.”
“And you’re really good at it, too,” Adam said with an equally mischievous grin. But then the grin vanished. “I’m going to be sending out a continuous radio signal from my pack, allowing our ATD’s to stay in contact. I don’t want the Formilians to have this access, only you, otherwise my head will be cluttered with too many distractions. You’re to relay info to Trimen and his team. It looks like with all this added traffic from space to the surface we should be able to get down without too much trouble.” He then swept a hand over his gear. “But we won’t be able to get very far dressed like this. It’s important that the power go wacky as soon as we land. The longer we spend on the surface, the riskier it gets.”
“Roger that, Captain, sir,” Sherri said with a smile, her eyes now looking warm and full of concern. “You be careful. And try to make sure you all get back in one piece—and with Riyad. Don’t try to do any hero shit while you’re down there.”
“This mission is like none we’ve attempted while in space. This world has Earth-standard gravity with natives just as strong and tough as we are.” And then he smiled again. “It will be just like what we were trained for, without any special concessions. I always love a challenge.”
“Yeah, five of you against an entire world of deadly aliens. I’d say that’s enough of a challenge—even for SEALs.”
He gave a quick nod. “See you soon.” They embraced briefly, while sharing a passionate kiss. Adam Cain was the last to board the shuttle.
Chapter 10
With Nigel McCarthy at the controls, the squat little shuttle shot out the back of the Volseen ship, did a steep turn to starboard and then headed straight down toward the surface of Elision. There were six seats behind the pilot seat where the rest of the team was located, affording them all a view out the forward viewport. They all watched in tense silence as the planet grew to engulf the entire view and wisps of clouds began to shoot across the window as turbulence rocked the small craft from side to side.
Their destination soon became apparent as a massive city stretching nearly to the horizon began to form below. It was not a pretty city, even though it had towering spires and a mish-mash of roadways entwined throughout the metropolis. All the colors on the surface seemed muted; a pale gray like that found on a cloudy day back on Earth. What color there was came from the occasional green of trees and grasses that were rare within the city limits. From their vantage point, the Humans could see far off forests, small in size and separated by vast fields of what appeared to be ancient lava flows.
From this first sighting, it was clear to the team that Elision was a harsh environment, and it was this bleak land that had spa
wned the gray Kracori. There was no joy or laughter in the landscape, only rugged pragmatism. The Kracori survived because that was what life did across the universe, yet no one ever said it had to be a pleasant experience.
As they drew closer to the surface, McCarthy had to avoid other air traffic, and eventually he was challenged as to his destination.
“Security equipment and personnel for the Citadel; we are anticipating an influx of prisoners once the Humans arrive.”
“That may be the Volseen way, but we Kracori will take very few prisoners. That is simply a waste of resources.” The Kracori’s voice was as rough as his attitude.
“That is true; however, we must strive to gain intelligence before eliminating those who are captured. That is our mission.”
“Better you than us. Transponder code verified; proceed to Citadel landing zone two.”
McCarthy cut the comm link without further acknowledgement. He cocked his head back toward the rest of the team. “The Citadel is where high-valued prisoners will be held. That was where Haden was kept. Tarazi will be there, too.”
“You don’t suppose Haden’s still alive, do you?” Adam asked, referring to the former Juirean Elder whom McCarthy had captured and then transported to Elision as a prize for the Langril of the Kracori.
“I very much doubt that. Although I never heard what became of him while I was there, the Kracori care only about Legend, and not about publicity regarding certain acts. Destroying Haden’s Legend through his death would have been good enough for the Langril without having to spread news of the event across the galaxy.”
Adam had spent some time with the old, white-haired Overlord during his time on Juir. He found the alien to be a sad victim of circumstance, some of which from outside influences, but mostly of his own making. Haden had been duty-bound to do what he did in defense of the Expansion, including ordering the first attack on the planet Earth. Considering all the false information he had been fed by the Klin, Adam would have done the same if he had been in Haden’s shoes. That still didn’t excuse the billion deaths that had resulted from the attack, but it did go a long way to making the Juirean out to be less of a cold-blooded monster for his actions. Adam had felt sorry for him when McCarthy loaded Haden in a spaceship and set off to deliver him to the Kracori. He could only imagine what a horrible fate awaited.
And he was also sure it was pretty much the same fate that befell Riyad Tarazi, although his torture would be prolonged, waiting out the arrival of the Human fleet. And then the Kracori would make a spectacle of his execution, just to add an element of horror to the coming conflict: Fight the Kracori ... and you shall all meet a similar fate.
The first thing Adam thought when he saw the Citadel from the air was how similar it looked to the Kremlin back on Earth. The oddly shaped capital building of the former Russian Federation–comprised of domes, spires and vibrant colors–had somehow survived both the Juirean and Kracori attacks on the planet. And now here was a near-perfect replica of the structure located some nine thousand light-years from Moscow.
“Déjà vu, all over again,” Adam heard someone whisper from behind him, verifying that his impression was also shared by others on the team.
“That’s a big place, McCarthy,” Adam said. “Where do you think Riyad’s being held?” It was night time on this side of Elision, yet even then the building was awash with spotlights and internal illumination.
“On the north side is a smaller dome–you see it? That’s the security facility, the Kracori’s equivalent of Lubyanka Prison, if we’re sticking with Russian references. It’s much smaller of course, since the Kracori seldom imprison their own. Even then, political prisoners are the most common in Kracori society, and I’m sure they considered both Haden and Tarazi as political prisoners rather than prisoners of war per se.”
“What about security in and around the building?”
“Not as much as would be found on Earth, but still a fair amount of guards and electronic surveillance. Even though they’re gearing up for a major dustup, expecting a raid like this has to be the furthest thing from their mind.”
“That’s what we’re counting on,” Adam said. “How close can we land to the prison?”
“About half a klick. Unfortunately, that’s half a klick in normal gravity and with full gear.” McCarthy then paused to take a critical look at the four SEALs seated behind him in the shuttle. “And for a bunch of out of shape and over-the-hill senior citizens.”
“Speak for yourself, asshole!” Master Chief Geoffrey Rutledge barked out. “I’m still twice the killing machine you ever were.”
“Relax, Chief. Save some of that bloody temper for the aliens.”
McCarthy turned back to the controls just as he pulled the nose up on the shuttle and began to settle down on a concrete landing pad in a cloud of white chemical exhaust. There were a dozen other shuttles occupying the landing zone, along with ten or so ground units. Off in the distance, clear of the landing exhaust, fifteen to twenty Kracori could be seen performing various duties around the sitting craft. They didn’t pay any attention to the new shuttle that just landed.
“Ready up!” Adam called out, and the SEALs unbuckled and began to move to the rear of the shuttle and the airlock door.
Sherri, can you hear me?
Eh, yeah, came the ethereal reply within Adam’s mind. This is freaky. We can only do this through communication systems?
Correct, otherwise we wouldn’t have to say a word, just do everything through telepathy.
I wouldn’t like that. I like the sound of my own voice too much.
Adam smiled slightly, the expression hidden in the shadows of his helmet and the dimness of the shuttle’s airlock. Are Trimen and the Formilians ready?
Just waiting for your go.
Adam peeled back the Velcro cover over his diver’s watch and watched the secondhand sweep towards the zenith. Then mark thirty seconds from … now.
Done. Keep me up-to-date. I’m going to be a nervous wreck from here on out.
Roger that. Cain out.
Adam looked up at the anxious faces looking at him, each covered with streaks of green and black grease. ‘Goggles down,” he commanded, and the nightvision monoculars were slipped down, obscuring the determined faces even more, while giving his team an alien look of their own. He nodded to John Tindal at the control panel for the airlock hatch.
“We go in ten ... eight ... four, three, two, one—go!”
Tindal fingered the controls and the panel slide away, revealing a pitch-black landscape outside. The lights that had flooded the landing zone—as well as the massive complex of buildings making up the Citadel—had all gone dark, as had the entire surrounding neighborhood. A few of the Kracori off in the distance held working flashlights. But the natives seemed more concerned with the area surrounding them than in the activity near a distant shuttle.
The team poured out of the shuttle and made their way to the spacecraft nearest their shuttle, staying low and quiet as they moved. The greenish glow from the goggles lit up the landing zone in vivid detail, even in the darkness, and soon Adam and his team were hopscotching from cover to cover, moving ever-closer to the border of the landing zone and a small wall signifying the boundary to the Citadel property.
With no natural enemies on their homeworld, or even any alien visitors to speak of, security surrounding the Citadel was surprisingly loose. The wall around the complex was only about six feet tall, and a simple boost assist soon had the five-member team over and crouched on the other side watching for signs of detection.
Seconds later, McCarthy led them across a dark, empty patch of land about fifty yards wide, making it to the side of the smallish dome he had indicated where the prison was located.
In unison, the team suddenly dropped to the cool, moist ground as a door opened near them and two Kracori stepped outside. In absolute silence they lay as the two natives proceeded to scan the scene outside, mumbling something about the blackout. One point
ed as a nearby section of the city gained power, just as another that had been illuminated suddenly went dark. They seemed thoroughly perplexed at the randomness of the blackout, just as Adam had hoped. If only the Citadel had lost power it would have raised too much suspicion and pinpointed where the Kracori needed to concentrate their attention.
When the two Kracori showed no urgency to reenter the building, Adam caught the attention of Chief Rutledge and Petty Officer Tindal. He motioned with his hand, two fingers and then a cutting motion. The two former SEALs turned to their targets, took aim, and simultaneously let loose with single shots from their suppressed M4 carbine rifles. The muted poofs could barely be heard above the insect noises of the night.
The team jumped to their feet and scrambled to the open doorway; the interior was dark indicating that no emergency lighting was operating in this section of the building. Flanking the entrance, Tindal and Rutledge did a quick look-see inside. Rutledge turned to Adam and nodded. Quietly, Adam darted through the doorway, followed closely by McCarthy, Tobias and then lastly Rutledge and Tindal.
They were in a small anteroom with several desks and darkened computer monitors. The goggles provided an eerie image yet showed the room to be empty of Kracori. Adam looked to McCarthy. “Take lead,” he whispered.
Nigel sent him a confirming nod and moved toward the solitary door leading from the room. It was hinged and he slowly opened it to reveal a wide hallway running off in opposite directions. He moved into the corridor and turned to his right; the rest of the team followed with Tindal taking up the six position, spending most of his time looking back down the corridor in the other direction, his hand resting on Admiral Tobias’s back.
There were voices coming from within the building, their tone sounding more annoyed than alarmed. Adam stretched out with his ATD and detected literally dozens of flash weapons, all charged and ready, yet none appeared to be moving it their direction. In fact, most were stationery, their owners apparently waiting in the darkness for the lights to come back on.