Empires: A Classic Space Opera Adventure (The Adam Cain Chronicles Book 2)

by T. R. Harris

  He didn’t need to worry about a new identity after this was over; the one he was using now was the alias. The name Mike Hannon would be identified as the assassin, with a legend created to show he was on assignment from Union Intelligence to kill soon-to-be Elder Quanin. There were references not only to the Dead Worlds but Quanin’s imminent ascension to the head of the Counsel Elite and the title of Elder. The battle at Annadin would remain a mystery, although he was sure his chance meeting with the three SEALs from Earth on Dasnon would steer investigators toward the Humans. That was a bonus, and one more nail in the coffin of the conspiracy.

  His employers confided in him that they didn’t wish for a galactic conflagration. Instead, they wanted to shame the Orion-Cygnus Union into conceding the Dead Zone to the Expansion, in return for a promise not to let the conflict spread. Knowing how his fellow Humans thought, Mike saw the logic in the plan. Although government officials would deny any involvement in the tragedy, the people wouldn’t believe them. The member worlds would demand capitulation over war, especially if the assassination of Councilmember Quanin was viewed as a reckless and irresponsible act. Let the Juireans have the Dead Worlds, they would say. It’s better than an all-out war.

  All this meant was that Mike Hannon could eventually return to Earth to spend his ill-gotten millions on a life of decadence. This was his last mission; he priced it that way. Now all he had to do was wait for his contacts to arrive.

  He checked his watch again. They were late. They had never been late before. Everything had worked like clockwork—until now. Forty minutes and still no one was here to spirit him away from this shithole of a city and planet.

  Mike had been around the block enough times to know when something didn’t feel right. In his line of work, suspicion and caution worked hand-in-hand. Even if someone showed up now, he would be on guard. Things weren’t going according to plan.

  A creaking floorboard outside his room set him on alert. Although he’d abandoned the hybrid McMillian Tac-60 A2-R4 sniper rifle in Balamar after shooting the Juirean—as per the plan—he was still armed with the latest MK-88-Silver flash weapon, along with a fifteen-shot nine-millimeter Glock and a small stiletto knife he carried in his boot. He was also a Human, which gave him a physical advantage over almost any alien in the galaxy, although he wasn’t anxious to test it out.

  Another creak, followed by silence. That was the tell. Anyone other than those trying to hide their presence would continue walking down the corridor, paying no attention to the sound, even people who were coming to help him. The enemy was closing in, and he was sure it wasn’t the Juireans or the Humans. This was the real enemy.

  He was six stories up, which even in the light gravity of Liave-3 would be too much of a jump to guarantee he’d reach the ground unharmed. He couldn’t take the chance of getting injured from the fall. That left only the hallway outside the room as an escape route, which meant he would have to fight his way out.

  He didn’t notice anyone entering the hotel from the street below, so whoever was about to burst into his room had to know he was watching the street. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a good feel for the hotel. Even so, his instincts and situational awareness gave him a rudimentary layout of the building. It wasn’t very well-constructed, with opposing elevators and stairways at the end of each hall. These would be guarded. He checked the charge on the ’88. It was the top-of-the-line MK bolt launcher with a level-1 capacity of twenty shots, with double that at level-2. The lower setting was enough to kill just about any alien species—just about any except Humans. But these would be aliens coming at him. And depending on the size of the force sent against him, he might need all the bolts he could get. He kept the setting on the weapon at level-2.

  He moved to the right side of the doorway, placing the flash weapon at what he estimated would be head level for an alien, which was a little higher than his. The lock clicked free, indicating his attackers had a key, which was another giveaway. He was in the act of being double-crossed. That only made him angrier.

  The door cracked open. Mike pushed the barrel of the MK through the narrow opening and pulled the trigger. Being this close to the target meant a bloody spray from a normally bloodless shot. Then he was through the door a second later, taking instinctive aim at four—no five—other targets in the hallway. The flash bolts lit up the dim corridor as the bodies fell. Each of the dead carried their version of MK weapons, and a quick glance down at them on the floor gave him the bad news. They were set at level-1 with the targeting computers off. Mike shrugged. This many guns firing during the ambush would be enough to take out the target, even without computer assist. It also meant a stray shot could take him out.

  Mike crouched in the hallway, spinning around, checking forward and behind him. Other attackers had ducked back into the elevator and stairwell to his left. Behind him, it appeared clear.

  A Human is about twice as fast as the average alien, even without a bunch of deadly assassins on his ass. Now Mike Hannon set a world speed record during his sprint toward the stairwell at the end of the corridor. Although he was fast, he wasn’t faster than the energy bolts that now streaked down the hall, barely missing him. He didn’t bother opening the wooden door to the stairs, choosing to crash through it instead. His momentum carried him forward and over a metal railing, sending him tumbling head over heels down a central chimney. With flailing arms, he managed to grab hold of another rail, stopping his fall and sending his body bouncing off more metal and concrete as he dangled in the chute. Somewhere along the way, he lost his MK-88.

  There was noise above him, and he looked up to see a group of four green-skinned aliens enter the stairwell. Surprisingly, they didn’t notice him hanging from the railing three stories down. But that was about to change. People were yelling out directions.

  Mike looked down. Three stories to the floor below. But what choice did he have? He let go of the railing, trying to maintain his balance on the way down so he would land on his feet. Timing the landing as best he could, he buckled his legs and tumbled, cushioning the fall. As expected, something twisted and pain shot into his leg, but not too bad. He rolled, placing himself behind a flight of stairs even as brilliant balls of energy began to land around him.

  Something glinted off to his right; it was the MK-88. He dove for the weapon, scooping it up before performing a somersault back into a standing position. He lit off a couple of bolts above him, which caused the shots from above to cease for a moment as the shooters sought cover. Then Mike dashed through a doorway and into the back lobby of the hotel.

  But he didn’t leave. As best he could tell, four bad guys were still chasing him—only four. He needed a clean getaway without anyone following him. So, Mike ducked behind a counter and waited.

  With reckless abandon, his four pursuers burst from the stairwell, weapons ready but expecting to give chase to their target. Instead, their target greeted them with a quick succession of level-2 energy bolts.

  Confident he could leave the hotel, if not unseen, then without being followed, Mike ran out the back door and into the cool—almost cold—air of evening in Kanac. The neighborhood around the hotel was as seedy and rundown as the structure, with several aliens meandering along the roadway. They all noticed the sprinting Human, but no one dared follow. The creature was hopping along at remarkable speed and with a silver MK pistol in his hands. His gait seemed odd, but who were the aliens to tell if that wasn’t the normal way of running for a Human.

  Eventually, Mike worked the pain out of his ankle, at least to a tolerable level. The sprain wasn’t bad. He continued for what had to be a mile from the hotel, zigzagging down side streets and alleys until he reached a quasi-residential neighborhood. The entire city of Kanac was only about four years old, but already sections of it looked much older. In the beginning, there were no construction standards. There still weren’t. It’s just that the more recent structures were built to last longer, while the earlier ones were built for expediency.
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br />   A male alien with what appeared to be four arms was climbing a short flight of thin wooden stairs toward the front door of a building. Mike slowed and watched, scanning the street for other pedestrians. There was no one.

  The Human raced across the street, leaping past the stairs and crashing into the back of the alien just as he opened the door to the building. The pair stumbled into a room, with Mike holding the alien to keep him from falling. He turned and shut the door behind them.

  He had the alien pinned against a wall a second later, holding him firm with a forearm across his chest.

  “Does anyone else live here?” Mike asked, hurriedly.

  Most aliens had tiny translator bugs implanted behind their ears, so understanding Mike’s question wasn’t a problem. But still, the alien was frightened into silence.

  “Say something! Is anyone else here?”

  “No. I mean, not now. There will be later.”

  Mike felt something brush across his stomach. He backed away, letting the alien go, but keeping the MK-88 locked on him. He could now see that the alien had six arms, rather than four, and the bottom set had tiny pinchers on them. There was also a flap in the alien's clothing covering his stomach. Mike had seen creatures like this before, if not this specific species. They had a separate mouth in their stomachs which was fed by the bottom set of arms. They could talk, breathe and eat all at the same time.

  “I need a communicator.”

  “Yes, yes, I have one,” said the terrified alien. With one of his middle arms, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a standard localized comm unit.

  Mike snatched the communicator away, then took the alien by the shoulder and shoved him down the hallway. “In there,” Mike said when he saw a doorway on the left. “What’s in there?”

  “Another room, sleeping.”

  “Get in there. And if you come out, I’ll kill you.”

  Wide black orbs stared in terror at the crazed and desperate Human, just the effect Mike was hoping for. The alien jumped through the doorway and closed the door behind him.

  Mike scanned the apartment, choosing another room to the right and out of earshot of the bedroom. He holstered the MK and then took the communicator and dialed a number he’d committed to memory a week ago. It took a while for the link to be established.

  The image of an alien with light blue skin, displaying thin spiderweb-like veins and a pair of odd appendages dangling from his earlobes, appeared on the tiny screen.

  14

  “Capt. Cain’s Bar and Grill, Kaylor speaking.” The alien frowned, looking at the image at the other end of the link. “Is that you, Mr. Hannon? From where are you calling? Is Riyad with you? Are you aware of what has happened?”

  “Hello, Kaylor. I need to speak with Sherri. It’s urgent.”

  “Yes, of course. I will find her for you. Wait.”

  The screen went gray and stayed that way for an agonizingly long three minutes. During the wait, Mike moved to the front door and checked outside. Everything was quiet.

  The screen lit up again, this time displaying the angry face of Sherri Valentine.

  “Mike Hannon, you son of a bitch! What have you done? Do you know how much shit we’re all in because of you? Just who are you anyway? You know Adam has been arrested by the Juireans? You son of a bitch.”

  “You already said that once,” Mike said when Sherri paused to catch her breath. “Listen to me. I know I’m not your best friend at the moment, but what I have to say is important. Can you calm down enough for me to tell you what I have to say? If not, I’ll hang up right now.”

  Sherri glared back at him through the tiny screen. “What could you possibly have to say that will make this right? You killed Quanin, didn’t you? What are you, some kind of alien assassin?”

  “I’m going to hang up if you don’t calm down.”

  Sherri pulled the communicator away from her face and sucked in a big breath of air through her nose.

  “Good, that’s better,” Mike said. “Yes, I killed the Juirean, but I was just getting paid to do a job.”

  “So, you are an alien assassin—”

  “Please, shut the hell up! I’m trying to save us all.”

  “And how can you do that?”

  “I’m not stupid. I kept records of who hired me and why. I need to get that information to someone who can cut me a deal and get me off the planet. It will expose everything that’s been going on.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because my employers are after me now.”

  Sherri laughed, loud and hearty. “That’s perfect. Just what you deserve.”

  “Listen to me. If my employees can silence me, there’ll be no one left to tell the truth. You, and all the Humans on L-3, will be held responsible, and there will be plenty of evidence to make it stick. I’m your only hope. Besides, these refugees are playing with fire. The slightest push either way and the galaxy could be at war again. Is that what you want? I’m responsible for most of this, but that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is I can help stop this, and in the process place the blame on the real criminals. If you want Adam freed, I can make that happen. Help me, Sherri.”

  “What? What do you want me to do?”

  “I need to get off the planet—”

  “You ain’t goin’ nowhere until you tell me who’s doing this.”

  “Refugees, a group of powerful refugees trying to protect their planets from MK and others like them. They’re willing to start a war to stop them.”

  “Who are they?”

  Mike smiled. “Not so fast. I’ll let you know once you have transportation arranged for me.”

  “What makes you think I can do that?”

  “You and Riyad have a salvage business. You rent out spaceships. I need one.”

  Sherri sighed deeply. “And here I once thought you were kinda cute. Okay, but not the spaceport. We only have one big freighter there at the moment. It would make too much of a scene if it took off. Besides, they’re locking down the planet until they catch the assassin—until they catch you! But I may have an alternative.”

  “What?”

  “There’s an old starship repair facility just south of Balamar, along the shore road. Jym and Kaylor have been rehabbing some of the ships there. We have a small speeder ready to go. It’s not long-range, but it could get you out of the Zone and back to civilization.”

  “That will work.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Kanac. I’m in Kanac.”

  “Where in Kanac?”

  “Hell if I know. I only know that the hotel they told me to meet my exfil team at is in the eastern part of town.”

  Sherri grimaced. “Damn, that’s pretty far. You’ll have to make it out of Kanac and through Balamar, and with the whole planet looking for you. Hell, they’re looking for any Humans right now, thanks to you. Why did you set us up like that? We’re all the same species.”

  “I’ll explain when I see you. How do I get to this shipyard?”

  Sherri was silent for a moment, her brow furrowed and troubled. “It’s going to be next to impossible, not without a guide. Dal Divisen could help, but I doubt he will. If he got caught, it would make the Juireans mad.”

  “You say Adam’s a prisoner? I’ve heard stories about you guys. So far, there hasn’t been a jail cell that could hold you.”

  Sherri laughed again. “You want Adam to break out of a Juirean Class-3 starship … so that he can save your ass? Good luck with that, dickhead.”

  “Believe me, once the information I have gets out, you’ll be heroes, no matter what happens in the interim. Come on, Sherri, help me out. Help yourself. I’m your only way of making this situation go away.”

  Sherri stared unblinking at Mike for several seconds before nodding slightly. “I’ll try to get in and see Adam and let him know what’s going on. It will be up to him to decide what to do after that. If he says no, I’ll go see Dal. Can I call you on this number?”

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nbsp; “For now. Listen, if you do convince Adam to help me, I’ll be at that central bridge in Kanac, where it crosses the river. I think it’s called the 22nd Bridge, although I’ve only seen three in town. Look for me there.”

  “I can’t promise anything. Even if he wants to, it doesn’t mean Adam will be able to escape from the Juireans.”

  Mike smiled. “Have faith, sweetheart. You’re talking about the famous Adam Cain. He’s some kind of superman.”

  Sherri snorted. “You forget I’ve known him a lot longer than you have. And believe me, he ain’t no superman.”

  15

  Sherri wasn’t taking any chances. She rounded up Kaylor and Jym and sent them off to Copernicus’s old shipyard to prepare the speeder. She also instructed them to come up with some safeguards in case Mike Hannon tried to double-cross them. Then she drove to the Kanac Spaceport and up to the huge Juirean Class-3 starship.

  A line of green-haired Guards stopped her and asked why she was there. They recognized her as a Human and surrounded her with their weapons drawn. A senior Guard made a call to someone inside the ship.

  After several minutes, Sherri was only mildly surprised when she was allowed to enter the ship and escorted through a series of corridors to a nondescript door with two Juirean Guards stationed outside. Normally, she would not have been granted access to Adam, but she knew whoever was in charge was curious about what they would say to one another. The room was bugged, and this could be a way of gaining information from the Humans. And for that, she had a plan.

  Adam was genuinely surprised to see Sherri when the door opened. She was led in by two Guards who remained in the room with them. The Humans hugged passionately, while Adam whispered in her ear, “Careful, the walls have ears.”