by T. R. Harris
“Now what happens?” Adam said as the pain in his head grew worse.
“Now I will take the fancy new Klin ship they’ve given me, plus a cargo-hold full of every imaginable precious metal, and I’m off to a region of the galaxy where they’ve never heard of Humans, Juireans or Kracori before; a place where a superman like me can really strut his stuff.”
“I meant what about us? I don’t give a fuck what you do.”
McCarthy laughed again. “Oh, forgive me, Mr. Cain. It’s just that I’d already written you all off for dead.” He took a few steps further into the room until he stood directly in front of Adam, towering over him with a superior attitude. “With the Juireans only days away, I doubt if the Kracori will bother to keep you around much longer just to make a point to the arriving Human fleet. I think now they’ll have other things on their minds. The new Langril knows your history and I’m sure he would just as soon extinguish your bloody Legend just to check one more thing off his to-do list. And by the way, the Kracori have enlisted nearly the entire Nebula to their cause. When the Juireans get here—as well as the Humans—they will find a much more formidable enemy than anticipated. It’s going to be glorious. Unfortunately, I won’t be sticking around to see it. And one last thing before I go: all that bullshit I fed you on the bridge of my ship on Tel’or, well that was bullshit. It was I who offered the plan to the Klin to have the Juireans attack the Earth, and then for the Klin to step in and save the planet. Those slow-thinking idiots were willing to go back to square one after you escaped, content with another thirty or forty years of planning before acting. I showed them a quicker, more effective way to get the Humans and the Juireans to fight. So yes, I am responsible for the deaths of all those people, and I must say, it’s an incredible feeling knowing that I had the power to do so.”
“You’re insane, McCarthy,” Adam grunted. “Certifiably and criminally insane.”
McCarthy himself grunted. “Of course I am. What sane person could devise such a plan and then feel no remorse for all the deaths? I am aware enough to realize that. But maybe it’s a product of my insanity that I don’t really care. Either way, you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.” McCarthy leaned over a little closer to Adam. “This is it, Mr. Cain—the end.”
And with that statement, Major Nigel McCarthy, formerly of Her Majesty’s Special Air Service, spun on his heel and headed back to the cell door. He stopped and turned to say one last thing to Adam Cain. “Take a good look at me, Adam, and realize this: I won and you lost. Let that eat at you for the last few hours of life you have left.”
And then he was gone.
The Kracori locked the door behind them, leaving Riyad in the cell with his fellow Humans. No one said a word, even after McCarthy was gone. What was there left to say?
Chapter 13
It was getting cold in the escape pod, but nothing Sherri couldn’t handle. She had been raised in rural Kentucky, where the winters are long and harsh. However, in an hour or so she could anticipate reaching the end of her tolerance.
Sherri fell into the mind-numbing routine of watching the sliver of the planet Elision sweep into view every two minutes. This helped her ignore the cold and also the nagging question about her future, which didn’t look too promising right about then. She and the alien Trimen were drifting far above a hostile alien planet, nine thousand light-years from her home, and with no one even out looking for them—except maybe those seeking to blast them into atoms. It’s at times like these that Sherri wondered what kept people going, holding onto some ounce of hope, in the face of insurmountable odds? Personally, she knew she would fight on, at least for a little while longer, just to see what options might present themselves in the future….
Trimen had been quiet for a long time, and when the light from the planet swept over through interior of the pod again, Sherri looked over at her companion. In the briefest of moments, she saw that his skin was nearly blue, and his lower jaw was trembling noticeably.
“My God, you’re freezing to death!” she said, shifting her position so she could wrap her arms around the alien and pull him into her. His entire body shook violently and the cold of his skin seeped through her clothing and infected her as well. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I could see that you were tolerating the cold much better than I, and the more time we could drift before powering up, the better our chance of survival. I should have known a Human would be better-suited for harsh conditions such as these than would a Formilian.”
“That’s all well and good, if you don’t die first. Power up, Trimen. We’ll take our chances.”
“I can last a little longer—”
“Do it now ... or I will.”
“As you wish.”
With the last rotation of the pod towards Elision, Sherri saw Trimen’s trembling hand reach for the control console. He pressed two buttons in sequence and light suddenly filled the pod, followed quickly by a burst of warm air from a hidden vent. Being as small as the pod was, it only took a few seconds to fill the interior with soothing, blissful heat. Sherri closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. If the Kracori detected them now—and were charging their flash-cannon for an attack—at least she would have a few moments of deeply-penetrating warmth to comfort her. She hadn’t realized just how cold she’d actually become.
With thawing out Trimen’s first priority—and their fate completely out of their control once the pod had power—it was a full two minutes before the Formilian activated the external monitors. A small screen in front of them lit up, giving a graphic representation of the space around them in vivid 3D. The range of the scan was out to five hundred miles, and even though there were several ships in the vicinity, none carried the signature of a Kracori warship. These were ships built by other races and all coming to the aid of their Nebula-mates; merchantmen bringing supplies and munitions, along with a few warships to add to the Kracori fleet.
Yet now with the pod emitting an energy signature, Sherri and Trimen sat with their eyes glued to the screen, looking for any indication that one or more of the ships were changing course. After a few extremely tense minutes, they began to relax. Nothing had changed outside the tiny escape pod; they were being ignored, at least for the time being.
“What now?” Sherri asked.
“We can use the pod’s drive to evacuate Elision space and then attempt to contact Formil. The pod does not have a CW comm link, but it does carry traditional wormhole equipment. It may take us a while to find the right relays, yet eventually I should be able to link up.”
“And then we wait for Formil to send another ship?” Sherri’s tone was incredulous. “It took us a month to get here, and by then a rescue ship would be heading straight into a warzone. Besides, I’m sure there aren’t enough supplies in the pod to last two people thirty days or more.”
Trimen stared at her in silence, not offering any alternative suggestions. When it was obvious that the alien was out of ideas, Sherri spoke. “Kaylor and Jym; we need to contact them. They’re still in the Nebula for all I know, and they have the Pegasus. They could get from Tel’or to here in only a couple of days.”
“How do you propose we contact them?”
“I used to know the frequency of the Pegasus,” Sherri said, her forehead now deeply furrowed. “I just have to remember it.”
“Will that be difficult?”
“With our lives depending on my remembering, it could be!” She closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands. What were those numbers? She had spent considerable time onboard the ship, yet very little making incoming calls from their base on Pyrum-3. And since the numbers had been assigned to the ship, rather than from a clever personal selection, they could be any combination of six numbers. She knew they were right on the tip of her tongue, yet with the pressure of the situation—as well as the strikingly good-looking alien watching her with his huge blue eyes—they just weren’t coming to her.
“Let’s not worry
about that now,” she finally said. “Let’s get some food out; I’m sure the numbers will come to me when I’m not thinking about them.”
“How is that even possible?” Trimen asked, genuinely confused. “How can you think of something when you’re not thinking of it?”
Sherri managed a smile. Trimen was cute in his naiveté. “I just need to relax and let the numbers come to me. It’s done all the time where I come from.”
Trimen raised an eyebrow. “I know Humans to be physically superior to Formilians, but I was not aware of this mental power you also possess. There is no wonder your kind once ruled the galaxy, if even briefly.”
Sherri let the alien believe that what she was saying was a virtue rather than a flaw. It was always nice to keep an air of mystery around oneself. And she liked the fact that the gorgeous alien found her to be superior to him mentally, even as she knew what Formilian women were like physically. It would be the only advantage she would have over them.
Now if she could only remember the damn numbers....
Chapter 14
There was a small pipe dropping down from ceiling in the cell with a trickle of water escaping from it. There was also a hole in the floor for relieving oneself. John Tindal wet a piece of cloth from their discarded tactical gear and began to clean up Riyad’s face and beard. It appeared that most of his injuries were aged, the result of his early days of captivity when the Kracori were having fun beating the snot out of him. Soon they had grown bored, and with the Human fleet still a few months away, the aliens elected for less-frequent beatings so as to preserve their prize possession for the time when he would prove his value.
It was the malnutrition that was causing the most harm now. Tindal wet Riyad’s lips with the cloth and allowed a few drops of water to fall on his tongue. It helped some, but it was food that Riyad needed most, and that was something none of them had.
“You should all try to get away,” Riyad said after a while. “I came to terms with my own mortality long ago. But you’re still strong and able.”
“If we get out of here, you’re coming with us,” Adam said, now able to stand without losing his balance. He filled his cupped hand with water from the pipe and splashed it on his head and the back of his neck. Though the water was warm, it definitely helped, even though his head still throbbed and his side burned from the cut.
Riyad grunted. “If we get out? That doesn’t sound like the Adam Cain I once knew and admired. To the old Adam Cain, captivity was just a temporary setback.”
“Well, the new Adam Cain is actually the much-older Adam Cain, and if anyone has any suggestions on how we can get out of here, I’m all ears.”
“What about the Formilians ... and Sherri?” John Tindal asked.
“I was in contact with Sherri telepathically through a small radio beacon in my pack,” Adam said. “I sent her a warning just before the ATD was removed. I’m sure she got it—those kinds of messages can’t be ignored. Whether or not they were able to get away is anyone’s guess, but the fact that the power is back on here doesn’t look good.” He shook his head. “No, if we do anything, it will have to be on our own. Any of my backup plans involved using the ATD’s. I hadn’t planned on McCarthy cutting them out of us.”
“It’s been impossible to anticipate any of this, Captain,” Admiral Tobias said. “McCarthy was supposedly public enemy number one here on Elision. Who would have guessed that he would betray us to the Kracori and live to tell about it?”
Adam looked around the dimly lit room. It was made of a concrete-like material with no windows and only one very solid-looking metal door. The building that housed the cell was also located on a heavy-gravity world—just like Earth—and therefore the density of the building materials and the construction engineering would have to be such as to support the weight based on normal forces. There would be no smashing through balsawood-like walls, not on Elision.
John Tindal stood next to Riyad’s wheelchair. “A diversion.” he stated. “Riyad’s in pretty sad shape—sorry, dude—so we could say he’s having a seizure and needs medical care. That would at least get the frickin aliens to open the door again.”
“That’s if they even care what happens to Riyad now that they know it’ll be the Juireans arriving here first,” Chief Rutledge offered. “But it’s worth a try.”
“That’s a good idea; let’s think on that for a while,” Adam said. “We also have the confusion and chaos of the Juirean attack. Again that’s assuming they can even get to Elision. If the entire Nebula has joined the Kracori, then the Juireans may not make it this far. Still, there’ll be a lot of confusion around here.”
“That’s still a few days away,” Tobias said. “And the longer we wait, the weaker we’ll all become. I don’t think the Kracori have any intention on feeding us. That would be a waste of their resources.”
“If they even keep us alive all that time,” said John Tindal.
“Then we can’t wait,” Adam said. “Look around the room to see if anything can be used as a weapon. John, check the wheelchair.”
Admiral Tobias tipped one of the cots onto its side and began to tug on the lateral supports. “McCarthy did say that the Kracori were not used to imprisoning their own kind—let alone aliens—and when they did, they were mainly political prisoners. They may not have considered the will to escape when they built this place.” He withdrew a seven-foot-long metal rod from the cot and held it up for all to see, a wide grin painting his face. “Idiots,” he said, punctuating his prior comment.
“Improvise, overcome and adapt,” John stated as he tipped his own cot onto its side.
Chief Rutledge grunted. “That’s a damn Marine saying, Tindal.”
“It fits, Chief, it fits.”
Within minutes, all the able-bodied Humans in the cell were armed with seven-foot-long metal rods—spears—and anxious to use them.
“We need a plan for when we get out,” Adam said. “I was unconscious when moved here, so did any of you get a good lay of the land outside the cell?”
Chief Rutledge stepped up to Adam. “Yeah, we all did. We’re pretty deep in the building, with a lot of turns. And I believe we’re about three stories below ground level.” He looked to his colleagues for confirmation. Both Tindal and Tobias nodded their agreement.
“I’m sure it’s still night outside,” Admiral Tobias offered.
“The place seemed pretty deserted when they brought me here,” Riyad said. He coughed before continuing. “Again, my friends, I will only slow you down. I’m perfectly at peace with you leaving me here.”
“Yeah, but we’re not,” Adam said. “Besides, dickhead, you’re our mission. It wouldn’t do to come all this way and then leave you here. So cut out that line of talk. We all go or none of us go.”
“Hoo-rah!” John Tindal grunted. The other SEALs nodded. It was game time.
Chapter 15
Jym was in the pilothouse of the Pegasus, practicing controlling the ship’s systems with his ATD when Kaylor entered.
“I think something has gone wrong with the mission.”
Jym swung his seat around and sat up straighter. “Why do you say that?”
“Adam has been in contact with me surreptitiously so that McCarthy would not be aware of our following, and the last contact was when they were leaving the main ship for the surface of Elision. Nothing since, and when I try to communicate back in his direction all I get is nothing. You’re much better at using the ATD; can you try?”
“Of course, but I will need a normal comm link between here and there. Have you tried contacting Sherri and the Formilians?”
“I get nothing there, too.”
Jym frowned, which simply meant his ears drooped some and his eyes narrowed. “No communication with any of the assault team?”
“Not for four hours or more.”
“I think you need to get Ruszel up here; I’ll try bursting a navigation beacon through the Shield and see if anyone picks it up, but comm through all th
at turmoil is nearly impossible without a direct link. If it does get picked up, then that ship may be in contact with Elision, and I can gain access then.”
********
Ruszel had spent plenty of time in the pilothouse of the Pegasus, enough time to grow envious of the large, concentrated-array spaceship. His ship—the one he’d acquired from Riyad Tarazi—employed a similar gravity drive, but it was half the size of the Pegasus. Even at that, it was still the fastest ship in the Nebula. However, the grass was always greener....
“I am linked in to Elision through a series of other ships that have joined the Kracori forces,” Jym announced as Kaylor and Ruszel entered the pilothouse. “So far no security alerts. Either the mission is proceeding with stealth, or the fate of the team is not being broadcast. And still nothing from the Volseen ship and Sherri.”
“So the rescue has failed?” asked Ruszel, his tone more curious than concerned. Even though he resented being taken captive by a splinter group of the rescue team, he did owe his current fortune to Riyad Tarazi. Just from a peripheral viewpoint, he was curious about the results of the mission.
“We cannot determine that. We have no comm links with any of the Humans or the Formilians.” Kaylor answered. “It seems strange that we would lose contact with both the surface team and those still in orbit.”
“Wait one…” Jym said, holding up a hand. “I have a link with an orbiting ship reporting a hazardous debris field not on any of the charts. It is the only debris field in orbit around the planet and the reporting vessel is concerned at the sudden appearance of the hazard.”
“That could be the remains of the ship containing the orbiting team, the one with Sherri still aboard,” Kaylor said, his voice trembling.
“Then we could have had a catastrophic failure of the mission,” Jym added.
“Then there is no reason to stay here,” Ruszel said, suddenly energized at the prospect of returning home. “I promise I will not report any of this to the enforcers if we return to Tel’or now.”