by T. R. Harris
“I have been working on that question, and it may come down to the basic philosophies of our respective civilizations. Juireans are more concerned with the overall management and discipline of the Expansion than we are with the individual actions of the members. That was the purpose of the Expansion in the first place, offering semi-autonomous rule in exchange for protection and tribute. The Union is not like that. You take a more active role in the management of your member worlds, going so far as to invest in the economic activities of your members. Perhaps the refugees believe the Humans would be more inclined to insert themselves into the financial aspects of the Dead Worlds.”
Adam smiled. “Yeah, we would definitely want a piece of the action.”
Quanin stared at Adam for a moment as his mind worked through the translation. Then he nodded. “Precisely. Humans would not be content with simple membership. You would want your share of the wealth from the Dead Worlds.”
“They’re right, of course. But losing a war to the Juireans is not a foregone conclusion. I know that for a fact.”
“That is true. And if the Humans did win and assume control of the Zone, that outcome would still be more desirable to the refugees than losing the planets completely to corporate interests and power. Politically, the Union—just as the Expansion—would be obligated to respect the ancestral claims the refugees would have to their planets. In that regard, these groups are taking the only logical path open to them. They are too few to resist the companies, or even the salvagers and cartels, for that matter. Their only remedy rests with the power of empire to protect their sovereignty. So, war it must be, and with little concern for the eventual winner, although the refugees appear to have their preference.”
Adam wasn’t excited nor depressed by the information. It was logical; it was reality. But creating a war was a drastic step to take. He would prefer if the empires could agree to a sharing of the Dead Worlds, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. Humans and Juireans didn’t share anything; they owned and controlled. That was the way of their existence.
He let out a deep breath.
“So, what are you going to do?” he asked the Juirean. “The information you have, and the argument you present will shake things up. And going after the refugee groups will only delay the inevitable. At some point, someone has to take control of the Zone.”
“You are correct, Adam Cain. Fortunately—once this crisis is defused—we will have time to work on a better solution than war. And if I become Elder before the resolution, I will make it my mission to come to an amicable agreement with the Union. In the meantime, I have transcribed this information on a disk on my ship at the spaceport. I will be presenting it tomorrow at the conference. Perhaps at that time—”
A warm spray of liquid suddenly blinded Adam. The taste and feel were familiar. It was blood.
11
Once Adam’s vision cleared, he gazed in shock at the shattered remains of Quanin’s head. The Juirean Councilmember lay on the sand outside Cain’s, his skull deformed into an unrecognizable mass of blood, brains and flesh. The blood spray continued behind the body to where it formed an oozing circle of red and grey sinew on the outer wall of the building.
Adam’s military mind clicked into gear, and he dropped to the warm sand next to the body, seeking cover as he followed the line from the stain on the wall to the body, looking off into the dark for the trajectory of the bullet. The fact that he didn’t hear the shot meant it came from either a suppressed weapon or from far away. The line led out to sea, and from the damage caused by the high-velocity ballistic round, he knew it was a large caliber bullet. It was clear the shot hadn’t come from the beach—it was only a hundred yards wide at this point. And a shot such as this from a bobbing boat would be a miracle.
Then he noticed the lights out in the dark of the sea. They were from the peninsula that formed the northern boundary of the crescent cove. But that wasn’t right either. The prominence was over three miles away, maybe more, making for an impossibly long shot.
Adam didn’t get a chance to dwell more on the origins of the deadly kill shot. Bodies were falling on him, with strong arms and hands shoving him into a sitting position. Restraints were clamped on his wrists from behind as a dozen guards swarmed the beach. People were screaming, and orders barked out. Somewhere in the din, he heard Sherri’s high-pitched voice, demanding access to the beach.
A second later, a large body fell on the sand next to him. It was one of the Juirean guards. Sherri followed a second later, kneeling next to the alien she’d knocked unconscious in her zeal to reach Adam.
“Are you hit?” she breathed.
“No, I’m okay. But Quanin…”
“I know; he’s gone. Who did this?”
Sherri was jerked away by a pair of huge Human security guards. She tried to fight back, but unlike with the Juirean guard, the Humans were too strong. She was pulled out of sight.
Adam was lifted to his feet, and one of the Juirean Overlords stepped in front of him.
“What happened?” he asked. “Did you kill the Quid-Elder?”
“No, I didn’t. It was a long-range shot, probably from the peninsula.”
“Who did this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know something about this. You had the Councilmember engaged in conversation. It is the first evening you have been observed doing so. It allowed the assassin to take aim—”
“Release him!” said another angry voice. Ambassador Euker stepped into the light. “It’s obvious he didn’t do this. Let him go.”
“He could have been complicit in the act,” countered the Overlord. “He will remain in our custody until the truth is discovered.”
“I protest,” said Euker, her voice lacking sincerity. She faced Adam. “I’m sorry, Captain Cain, but it will only be temporary until we find out who did this.”
“Check the peninsula. That’s where the shot came from. And the bullet fragments; they’ll tell you a lot.”
“Thank you, Captain, but I have people who can handle this.” The Ambassador’s deep blue eyes burned into him. “In the meantime, try to control yourself. Don’t do anything stupid. I know your reputation. And Mr. Cain, I pray to God you didn’t have anything to do with this.”
Adam was hustled away.
12
A Class-3 Juirean warship is the largest vessel in their fleet that can land on the surface of a planet. The one at the Kanac Spaceport was where the late Quanin Fe Dornen and his delegation stayed while on L-3. However, in orbit, there were twelve other warships of Juirean design, including a Class-5 battle cruiser.
Not to be outdone, the Humans had a matching force in the system, both on the surface and in space.
Immediately upon learning of Quanin’s assassination, both small fleets went on high alert. The ships in orbit moved farther out into the Liave star system and set up defensive perimeters. The Juireans were already on edge after the attack on their squadron at Annadin. The Humans knew this and did their best not to provoke the maneheads. Even still, Juirean commanders were warned about taking action on their own. To most of them, a state of war already existed between the two empires. Only their adherence to discipline and the chain of command prevented the Second Juirean/Human War from beginning to moment Quanin died.
Adam was taken to the Class-3 at the spaceport and locked in a barebones stateroom. It could have been the captain’s cabin for all he knew; Juireans didn’t go in for luxury aboard their ships. A few minutes after his arrival, two Juireans arrived, one a blue-haired Overlord he hadn’t seen before, along with a white-haired Counselor who was a regular at the conference. Adam remembered his name being Danette or something like that.
“I am Loncet Ra Veseem, the commander of the Juirean forces in the Zone,” the Overlord introduced himself. “And this is Counselor Dansee Fe Wys, the special assistant to Councilmember Quanin. “In my capacity as area commander, I am assuming control of the situation and announcing an end to the chara
de of peace talks taking place on Liave-3.” The alien’s blazing yellow eyes bore into Adam. “I am told you are aware of the status of Councilmember Quanin. He was not an ordinary Juirean. He was the Quid-Elder, making his death tantamount to the killing of an Elder, something you, Adam Cain, are quite familiar with. If you have once again engaged in such behavior, I fear there is nothing I can do to stop what is to come. I also know you and Quanin were acquaintances, which makes this betrayal on your part even more insulting.”
Adam shrugged uncomfortably. In reality, he’d saved one Elder from immediate death and killed another. In his opinion, that made him even. Loncet didn’t see it that way.
“I didn’t kill Quanin; we were friends,” Adam said in his defense. “We respected each other. Why would I kill him? He’s the only one around here making sense. Did he tell you about the evidence he found, and about how he felt it was a renegade refugee group behind the attack at Annadin and not the Humans? I bet they also killed the Councilmember.”
“We know who killed the Member,” Loncet stated, much to Adam’s surprise. “The murder weapon has been recovered. Perhaps you are familiar with such a device.” The Overlord referred to a datapad he carried his hand. “It has been referenced as a McMillian Tac-60 type long-range ballistic rifle, of both Human design and manufacture. It was found on a spit of land south of Balamar and with a clear line-of-sight to your establishment.”
Loncet reveled in Adam’s shock and silence. “And you mentioned Quanin’s discovery of bombs aboard the surviving ships involved in the Annadin incident. Were you aware those ships made a stop at Dasnon before meeting up with your squadron? Are you familiar with the planet?”
“Yes, I am. So what?”
Dasnon was the second oasis planet in the Dead Zone, similar to Liave-3 yet with about a tenth of the population. It was a poor man’s L-3.
Loncet looked to Counselor Dansee with surprise on his face. “He freely admits it. Unbelievable. I am sure you are also aware that a group of Humans were on Dasnon at the same time my squadron was there. And now those same Humans—friends of yours, I have learned—are now on Liave-3. The coincidence is too much to ignore. Bombs were planted on our ships, and our Quid-Elder assassinated. And in both cases, the same Humans were present. Do you still deny you had nothing to do with this?”
“Of course, I do because I didn’t. And neither did the others.”
“And where are your friends now?”
“They’re off-planet, doing salvage in the Zone. That destroys your argument, doesn’t it? They weren’t even on the planet when Quanin was killed.”
“And where are they?”
Adam hesitated, which was noticed by both aliens.
“Is there a problem, Adam Cain? Where are the other Humans?”
“Annadin. They’re on Annadin.”
Again, the two aliens shared looks of astonishment.
“And you do not find that unusual, that the prime suspects in this conspiracy would be in the very system where a battle between our two empires recently occurred? Even a Human must see the irony in that.”
“They’re just doing a salvage. It was Riyad’s idea to go there—Riyad, my partner.”
“And again, he provides evidence against himself.” Overlord Loncet appeared almost giddy, feeling as though Adam was making his case for him. “You state that you are not involved, and by extension, the Humans who reside on Liave-3. However, you also reveal complicity in your actions. I wish you would simply come out and admit to everything. This deception you are attempting is becoming embarrassing.”
“I don’t care how it looks, but none of us had anything to do with this.”
“So you say.” Loncet looked at Dansee. “Do you have anything further to say to Adam Cain? I must leave now and prepare my communication to Elder Wydor. He will want to know what we have learned. In the meantime, I am ordering in my main fleet from the fringes of the Zone. I do not know how far this conspiracy goes. Ambassador Euker might also be complicit for all I know. This operation is more widespread than I first suspected.”
“I have nothing further to say to the Human, except that I am disappointed. Quanin genuinely respected you. What you have done to him is unforgivable.”
“I’m innocent; you have to believe me.”
“That, Adam Cain, I do not have to do. I cannot.”
Adam stood in the center of the stateroom for several minutes after the aliens left. He was in shock. How could so many things go so wrong in such a short time? And was Peanut and his people involved? He couldn’t believe that. He trusted Gill, and because of that, the others by extension. Besides, they couldn’t have been involved in the assassination. They weren’t even on the planet. No, this had to be the work of the refugee group Quanin suspected. The Humans were being set up. But why? In order to start a war? That was crazy. There had to be something else at work here. And he certainly wasn’t going to find any answers in his makeshift prison.
He looked around the small stateroom. He’d escaped from many a prison before, but if there was anyone who knew his capabilities, it was the Juireans. They would be overly cautious guarding the infamous Adam Cain. He sat down on the edge of a hard bed to think. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he was innocent.
He tried to relax. After all, an innocent man has nothing to worry about, right?
“We’re heading back right now,” Riyad told Sherri over the CW link. She had just finished telling him about what happened on Liave-3. “We’re in transit to the next planet on our list, so we’re already in space. It shouldn’t take us too long to get back.”
Riyad didn’t feel anger, only concern. He was enough of a strategist to see the implications, and they didn’t look good. If this was a setup—something to incite a war—the evidence was piling up fast against the Humans.
“They’re trying to blame all the Humans for this,” Sherri continued, exasperated. “At least they can’t pin any of this on you. Y’all were four and a half light-years away at the time the Juirean was killed.”
Riyad’s expression turned sour.
“What’s wrong?” Sherri asked.
“Not all of us have an alibi.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Mike Hannon isn’t with us. He stayed behind on Liave-3.”
“What do you mean he stayed behind? He didn’t tell me.”
Peanut stepped in front of the camera. He and the rest of the SEALs were watching the conversation on the main view screen on the bridge of the Charlie H. “Yeah, Mike begged out of this first expedition because of a stomach bug he caught. Said he was heaving his guts out in a hotel in Kanac and that he’d catch up with us for the next run. We didn’t think anything about it.”
“He’s not with you?” Sherri asked again, not believing what she heard the first time.
“No,” Peanut confirmed. “And lookin’ back on it now, it does sound like he was feeding us a barrel of chicken dung about being sick and all. The man’s as healthy as a horse. And now with this assassination thing happenin’, I’m thinkin’ the worst.”
So was Riyad. His stomach was twisted in knots as his conspiratorial mind cut through the clutter. Mike Hannon was Delta Force, masters at covert operations and expert marksmen. And he wasn’t part of the group of SEALs which Peanut could vouch for. And now he was somewhere on Liave-3 and Sherri didn’t know about it. That was odd. Riyad noticed the attraction between the two, and in the six days the team had been gone from L-3, it was a pretty good bet the two would have hooked up by now.
Unless Mike was too busy planning an assassination to get laid.
“Be careful, y’all,” said Sherri. “The Juireans are pissed at everything Human, and they have itchy trigger fingers. If you run into any of them, don’t give them an excuse to settle the score. Just get back here safe and sound.”
13
Mike Hannon wasn’t new to black ops. What was new to him, however, was conducting them on alien planets. That wasn�
��t part of his job back on Earth, even though he did make a couple of deployments during the Nuorean Conflict at the beginning of his career. That experience was what soured him on the whole idea of traipsing about the galaxy in search of adventure. The conditions were cramped, the ports-of-call hideous and the action sparse. Especially for what he got paid.
That was the reason he left the service after eight years and began hiring himself out as a freelance jack-of-all-trades, with an emphasis on assassination. He was able to pick and choose his assignments and the pay was infinitely better.
Hannon stood to the side of a window on the sixth floor of a rundown hotel in eastern Kanac, watching the street below for any signs of activity. He’d just arrived from Balamar thirty miles away to meet the people who would get him off the planet and back into Union territory. He was anxious to go before the blowback from his most recent assignment reached Kanac. He snorted. If his employers’ plan worked, the blowback would reach far beyond Liave-3, creating a ripple effect across the entire galaxy. In a way, Mike felt a sense of awe, thinking how the actions of a single person on a throwaway planet in the middle of a dead region of space could make such an impact on the affairs of a galaxy. It remained to be seen whether or not the assassination would have the desired effect, but that was not his concern. He’d done his job, not only on L-3 but Dasnon as well. Now he would let fate take over, and all the while thinking about the millions of credits he had hidden in various accounts across the galaxy. The money would be enough for him to weather any coming storm and from any part of the galaxy.
He knew suspicion would fall on him; that was by design, and eventually, the planet would be locked down, looking for any Human foolish enough to stick their head out of a hole. Timing was critical. He had to be on the move within the next half an hour if he wanted to beat the rush hour traffic off the planet.
