by T. R. Harris
“You will say and do anything to save your race, Polimic,” Admiral Nash said.
“That is correct! You would do the same, Admiral Nash. I am prepared to offer you anything you desire for your acceptance of my offer. Anything!”
Adam watched as Nash cocked his head to his right and cast his eyes to the overhead, as if in thought. Then he looked back at the alien while nodding and pursing his lips. “I accept your offer, Langril Nomar Polimic.”
Adam’s heart skipped a beat at the Admiral’s words; he didn’t know what kept him from blurting out a protest. Yet there was something in Nash’s manner that made him hold back....
“You accept?” Nomar seemed as surprised as Adam. “You accept! That is most welcome news.” He turned to his stoic companion and smiled.
“I accept your offer of anything in return for my acceptance,” Nash said, interrupting Nomar’s revelry.
“Yes ... anything, Admiral Nash!”
“Then to save your race from immediate extinction, all you have to do is bring back to life the billion-and-a-half dead Humans that your recent attack on Earth has caused ... and then I will spare your planet.”
Nomar’s mouth fell open, and even across the trillions of miles of the CW-link, Adam saw the Langril go pale. “You cannot be serious? You know I am not capable of that!”
“Then maybe you should have thought of that before you dropped nukes on my planet.”
‘But I am offering our complete and unconditional surrender. Are you telling me you would still proceed to destroy an entire race of intelligent beings when you are not required to, simply for revenge?”
Admiral Nash smiled and turned his head toward Adam. “And Captain Cain here said you weren’t that smart. Yes, Polimic, that is exactly what I’m saying.” The humor vanished from Nash’s face and tone. He leaned in a little closer toward the big screen. “The Kracori are going die today, and by my hand. You sick, spineless, evil creatures don’t deserve to inhabit the galaxy. There is nothing—I repeat—nothing you can say or do to keep me from fulfilling my mission.”
Just then, the quiet Command-Tactician pulled an MK-17 flash weapon from his holster, and then without hesitation placed a level-one bolt through the head of Langril Nomar Polimic. A small cloud of smoke rose from the area around the desk where his head fell, in full view of all those watching on their monitors.
Adam was stunned, as were all the others in the Wardroom. It took a moment for Admiral Nash to recover. “That doesn’t change anything,” he said to the expressionless Kracori military officer.
“That I realize, Admiral Nash,” said the Command-Tactician. “That was something I wished to do for myself, before either he—or you—had an opportunity.”
“I am truly sorry it has come to this,” Nash said, “yet debts must be paid. The rabid dog must be put down.”
“I believe I understand your meaning, Admiral Nash. Yet you should also be warned that as the senior military officer for the Kracori, I will still put up a fierce defense of my planet. We will not succeed, yet we will die as warriors.”
“As would be expected, Command-Tactician.”
Nash turned to the other officers in the room, surveying their eyes and expressions. When it was obvious that no one had any additional comments, he turned to Overlord Oplim. “Is there anything you wish to say to the Kracori before I break the link?”
“It is only this: Juireans now stand upon the surface of Juir once more, and in time all there will be healed. Yet for your complicity in the Klin plan for galactic domination, the Kracori will not recover. Your race will become a footnote in history, yet not totally forgotten. Rather, you will be held up as an example to others who choose the wrong path. And even after the Humans are through ravaging your world, the Juireans will return and salt the ground, set fire to the forests—and as the technology advances—may even someday have the means to blow the entire planet apart so it will not even show as a mark on a stellar survey map.”
The Juirean shifted his attention back to Admiral Nash. “That is all I have to say.”
Nash was stunned, and for a moment said nothing, staring at the blank expression on the face of the blue-haired Juirean Overlord. Eventually, he nodded to the petty officer and all the links were cut.
Nash then turned to an equally stunned Adam Cain and said, “Remind me never to make the Juireans mad again. They don’t only bury their enemy, but they literally piss on their graves and then blow up the graveyard!”
Chapter 49
The buffeting was almost too much to take. Wesselian Velsum held onto the armrests of his seat, barely able to keep from flying out. The huge pod ships were not built for radical maneuvers, and therefore had very few seats with buckles or restraints. But now, as his ship fought through the unrelenting maelstrom of the Dysion Shield, he knew that this particular pod was doomed. Already fires raged throughout, and hull integrity had been breached in more areas than could be counted. At any moment, the weakened surface of the great spaceship would lose the strength required to contain the atmospheric pressure from within, and the craft would explode, just as pod Fifteen had done not more than five minutes before.
The savage Juireans had unceremoniously destroyed eight of his pods while they were still within the Dysion Void. His other twelve pods had entered the Shield, and Velsum’s only consolation at the end of his life was that three of the Colony had already made it through and into clear space. Surveying the condition of the other nine pods he was saddened to say those three would be the only ones to claim such success.
Seventy-five thousand survivors out of half-a-million Klin; the loss of so many of his precious Klin brethren was inconceivable. They had fought and struggled for so long for redemption and salvation, and now they were nearly gone, a catastrophic failure of mission and mind.
A sudden jolt to the left sent Pleabaen Velsum tumbling from his chair. He struck hard against a bulkhead and lay there stunned. There was a thunderous roar that shook the pod to its very core and Velsum could feel the air flowing rapidly over his supine body. In his last moments, before the last breath was pulled from his lungs, he thought of the other Colony, forming yet another silent prayer to the ancestors of Klinmon—so long lost and forgotten—to give long life and strength to the few survivors of his Colony, and to the others; their distant brothers. For the legacy of the Klin, they were the last hope.
Chapter 50
Twenty-two days later, the fleet was still in the Dysion Void. Supply ships had arrived, this time entering through the Volseen Corridor unchallenged, and the fleet was now filtering through the Nebula, seeking out the rare pocket of resistance that still existed.
The Juirean fleet was also in the Void, yet they were preparing to deploy for a journey to a repatriated planet Juir later that day.
That was when a request for a link from the Juirean Elder came to Adam’s attention.
“He wants to talk to me?” the bewildered Navy captain asked.
“That’s what he said, sir.” This was the first CW-link the young petty officer third class had ever received from a Juirean. He was in a mild state of shock.
“Where can I take it?”
“I can patch it into your stateroom.”
“Okay; let’s do it.”
The E-4 fingered his datapad and then beat a hasty retreat from the stateroom; aliens gave him the creeps.
The screen above Adam’s small in-cabin desk came to life. The large head of the Juirean Elder appeared, his great white mane rising up from his bronze forehead and then cascading down his back. Piecing blue eyes stared unblinking back at him.
“Elder Wydor, this is unexpected,” Adam said as he slipped into a chair in front of the monitor.
“We are preparing to depart and I wanted to take this opportunity to speak with you—privately.”
“I’m honored—I think.”
Adam swore he saw a glimmer of a smile cross the alien’s face. “Even though our meetings have been brief and separated by
many years, they have been meaningful and have come at pivotal times in the histories of our two races.”
Adam remained silent, letting the Juirean guide the conversation. After all, they were talking on his dime.
“I recall the valiant attempt you made to save the life of my friend and mentor, the former Elder Hydon. For that I offer you my appreciation.”
“Unfortunately, that didn’t work out as planned.”
“At no fault of your own, Adam Cain. And now you have brokered an unlikely alliance between the two most-powerful entities in the galaxy, helping guide our races to meaningful redemptions in the process. Again I offer you my appreciation.”
Adam frowned. Something wasn’t quite right. “My Lord, I get the impression you’re trying to prepare me for something.”
“You are prescient as ever, Adam Cain. You are correct, and I hope you realize that I say this with the utmost respect for you and your race. But this matter is not settled; this rivalry between the Juireans and Humans. I do not mean this as a threat, but as a simple statement of fact. Our two races possess a drive within us to always be growing, always seeking new challenges to conquer. Each, in own way, have a galaxy to conquer, which will eventually pit our two races against each other once more. It may not come in our lifetimes—I sincerely hope not; there has been too much fighting already. Yet eventually the empire of the Juireans will meet the empire of the Humans, and there will be a reckoning. As a race of warriors—to another race of warriors—I can say I could not ask for a more worthy opponent than the Humans. And you, Adam Cain, I have found to the worthiest of them all.”
Adam’s mouth had slowly fallen open as the Elder spoke. Now he snapped it shut, hoping that the blush on his cheeks was not evident through the transmission. “Elder Wydor, I don’t know what to say, but I will bow to your expertise in these matters. And knowing Human nature as I do, I have no doubt that what you say is true. Before mankind took to the stars, we had dominated every environment on our planet. And when that wasn’t enough, we dominated each other. Maybe that’s just the force of nature in all living creatures, to grow, spread and dominate. Unfortunately, when you get to our level of technology, that domination can have dire consequences. But I do agree with you, Lord Wydor, there has been too much fighting.”
Wydor narrowed his eyes at Adam, as he saw a cloud come over Adam’s face. “I sense your war is not over, Adam Cain.”
“Now it’s your turn to be prescient,” Adam said, forcing a smile. “Justice hasn’t been done for some of the people I’ve known. Not yet”
“I hope that cause for justice does not involve another clash with the Juireans?”
“No, it doesn’t. As a matter of fact, this one concerns another Human.”
“Nigel McCarthy,” Wydor stated without question.
“That’s correct. That bastard managed to get away, and with the help of my ex-friend Kroekus of Silea.”
Again Wydor frowned. “Is this true?”
“Yep, and he even was helping the Kracori to defeat you. Seems he liked being boss of the galaxy, and a resurgent Juirean race was a definite threat to his position.”
“I find this information to be very disturbing, yet helpful. If there is anything I can do to assist in your coming mission, please just ask.”
“I appreciate that, Lord Wydor, but right now my plans are pretty scattered. All I know for sure is that this isn’t over, not by a long shot.”
“I wish you success, Adam Cain, and one last item before I break the link.”
“Yes, sir?”
“If ever you decide to wage war again on a personal level, please spare the Juireans. I have doubt we could survive another encounter with an alien with an attitude ... such as yours.”
Chapter 51
The readings weren’t right, and no matter what he did, they were still off. Adam cut the power to the generators and let the Pegasus engines go dark. He slipped out of the pilotseat and headed aft out of the pilothouse.
Try as he might, he couldn’t keep himself from looking over at the dark discoloration in the deck behind the observation seat where Master Chief Geoffrey Rutledge had died. Each time brought sorrow to his heart and a determination to his soul.
And as he made his way to the aft landing bay, he found his mind drifting back over the events of the past three months....
********
It had started while still aboard The Trident, when the time had come to confront Sherri and Riyad, not wanting to leave things hanging as they were.
“I’m sorry, Adam, but I need more. And if it hadn’t been for Riyad’s capture, I would still be on Earth and trying to make a new life—” she waved her hand out before her “—away from all this.”
Adam turned to Riyad, who had been strangely quiet throughout this whole affair. Riyad shrugged. “I have always found Sherri to be a beautiful, dynamic woman. And now as I, too, have had my fill of life in space, I wish to start a family back in the world I am most familiar with.”
“And I want kids, too!” Sherri’s eyes were moist as she desperately sought Adam’s understanding, if not his acceptance.
His eyes were moist as well.
“You’ve been very upfront with all this in the past, Sherri. I do understand.”
“Do you really?” Her question was a plea.
“Yes I do, and I know I couldn’t make you happy. My life is such a goddamn mess.”
Riyad flashed his trademark, blindingly-white smile. “Adam Cain, savior of the universe—and his life is a mess? You’re a hero, Adam Cain. Maybe it’s time you faced that reality.”
“I’m an imposter, Riyad—and you know it. You both know it. I’ve been lucky beyond belief. Anyone reading this story would need a hefty suspension of disbelief just to get through it.”
“It’s science fiction, Adam. You’re not supposed to look at it too closely. Just accept it for the entertainment that it is.”
Adam smiled, this time surrendering his macho countenance and letting the tears flow. He embraced his two best friends in the entire universe for a full minute before finally releasing them.
“I wish you both all the happiness in the world—in the universe. You deserve it.”
Through a torrent of tears Sherri cried out, “So do you Adam Cain, so do you!”
“Come back with us, my friend,” Riyad said.
“You know I can’t—not yet.”
“Your need for vengeance will bury you as well.”
“McCarthy and Kroekus have to pay for what they’ve done.”
“Why?” Sherri asked. “You can go home and live happily ever after. They’ll be on the run forever.”
“Only if people like me are after them. If I stop, then they’ll find peace. That’s something I can’t accept.”
He took Sherri by the shoulders and kissed her forehead. “I’ll come home someday, but after I’m done. Just right now is not the time to call it quits.”
********
And then they departed, leaving Adam to return to Formil in the Pegasus with Kaylor, Jym and Trimen.
His farewell with the two feisty aliens was nearly as heart-wrenching as it had been leaving Sherri and Riyad, but then they, too, were on their way back to their home planets and the lives they’d left long ago.
As Adam began to organize the equipment in the landing bay for the task ahead, he reminisced on his time on Formil.
Besides having another artificial telepathy device inserted, he had taken the opportunity to get reacquainted with the alluring Arieel Bol. This time, without the cloud of Sherri Valentine hanging over him, Adam had given in to the temptations of the unbelievably voluptuous alien.
That had been a mistake.
Months before, Arieel had warned him what sex with a Formilian would be like, yet the macho Human male had simply said bring it on. The affair with Arieel Bol lasted thirty-four hours; any longer and it would have killed him.
Even in the quiet of the landing bay, Adam smiled embarrassingly at
the memories. If he was still on Earth and with his SEAL teammates, he would hesitate relating the stories. No one would believe him if he had.
In the end, the Formilian female had showed the galaxy’s super-being that there was more to the word super than simply strength, quickness and durability. He had left the planet humbled—yet with a silly grin painted on his face.
His sensual memories of Arieel were suddenly replaced by the image of a fat, blobby Kroekus, struggling under his grip, pleading for mercy. Yes, he had helped Nigel McCarthy and the Kracori, yet he did it to preserve the New Expansion, something that Adam had helped build.
The Silean had relocated to Formil after abandoning Juir, and was unaware—until it was too late—that Adam was still alive. After first landing on the planet, even before letting Arieel or Convor know he was there, he had tracked down the fat Silean. McCarthy had passed through the area two months before, telling Kroekus of Adam’s presumed fate and then taking possession of a special package Kroekus had prepared for him.
“It’s a ship, like the Pegasus—concentrated-array—actually three of them.”
“And why would you do that, Kroekus? Why are you helping that bastard?”
“What would you do? I have been the most-powerful being in the galaxy for a very long time. My wealth is beyond compare. And yet the Juireans could take it all from me.”
“That doesn’t explain why you would help McCarthy.”
Kroekus had hesitated, until Adam tightened his grip on the hapless alien’s fat neck. “The Cloud!”
“What cloud, what are you talking about?”
“An alternative ... or a fresh start.”
“You’ve lost me; start from the beginning.”
He had released the huge Silean, and over the next half hour let him explain his plans in an ever-increasing state of disbelief.
“You can’t be serious?”