by T. R. Harris
“It can’t be the Aris!” Arieel cried.
“Again, what—or who—are the Aris?”
Riyad shook his head at the towering alien. “You don’t want to know.”
“I don’t?”
“No…you don’t.”
46
Adam’s stolen starship was towed to the huge mothership and maneuvered into the largest hangar bay he’d ever seen. Standing before the forward viewport, he craned his neck to take in the view. Gravity had returned, but it was that of the mothership. Adam reasoned it was about standard for the galaxy, which would give him a strength advantage. He’d encountered these aliens before—briefly—yet long enough to know they can be killed, and he knew how to do it. He was hoping he’d be given the opportunity to rack up a decent score before...well, the before was still an unknown.
A few moments later banging came to the pressure door of the pilothouse. Adam remained by the viewport, smiling and waving at the crowd gathering below. One of the aliens began yelling at him to come out. Adam assumed The Thinker position with his head and right hand then shook his head no. This only confused the aliens more. They continued to call for him to leave the ship before backing off to allow another of their kind to approach.
Adam recognized this one, not by any particular physical features, but by the plastic guard and bandage wrapped around his head and over his broken nose.
Adam pointed at the alien, smiled and winked. Then he took a boxer’s stance and bobbed and weaved a few times while sending out short jabs. It was humorous to Adam, not so to the injured alien leader.
After a moment of playing around, Adam waved his hand and nodded. He was coming out. There was little to be gained staying aboard the ship, and if the aliens got serious, he couldn’t keep them out.
Strong hands of the slightly taller aliens took hold of him and led him off the ship. The leader was waiting.
“I hope you do not cause any more disruptions—or injuries. You will not be harmed, Adam Cain, as long as you cooperate.” The alien’s voice sounded more nasally than usual.
“Cooperate how?”
“Follow directions and do as you are told.”
“You sound like my first drill instructor.” Adam looked around the huge landing bay, which extended for several hundred yards in every direction, even up. “Who the hell are you guys? I would have remembered your beautiful golden eyes if I’d seen you before.”
“We are the Nuor. And you have never seen us before because we come from your larger neighboring galaxy. According to what we have deciphered, you call it Andromeda, while we call it Suponac.”
“I prefer Andromeda to Suponac. Rolls off the tongue better.”
“I understand your humor, Human. I assume this is some kind of defensive reaction when faced with overwhelming odds.”
“Oh, I suppose you guys could give me a pretty good run for my money, but I wouldn’t call my odds over you overwhelming, just adequate.”
The alien smiled. “I have heard much of you, Adam Cain. Seeing you before me now I have to believe the opponents you have faced in your Milky Way Galaxy have been of inferior stock. I assure you, the Nuor will be much more challenging.”
“Can’t wait to find out.”
Now the alien laughed. “As I, too, Adam Cain. Now take him to the others.”
The Others ended up being twenty-four other creatures from the Milky Way, including a huge Silean, three hopping Hybens, two Juireans, a Que’l, four Formilians…and even a Klin, having joined the group after Adam.
The Juireans immediately descended on the silver-skinned Klin, shoving his tall, slender body against a bulkhead in the large holding room they were in. Adam wanted to join them but didn’t. Instead he stepped between the two parties.
“Relax, dudes,” he said to the Juireans.
“This is a Klin. We have not had access to a live one for several millennia. He will pay for his deeds, and the deeds of his kind.”
“I appreciate that. And no one more than me would like to tear him apart limb by limb. But just think about this: His people are smart, a lot smarter than we are. We may need him to get out of this mess we’re all in.” Adam waved his arm around at the rest of the prisoners. “Look around, these bastards have taken representatives of dozens of races, and not just the ones we can see here. There were over two thousand at or near Formil. I’ll bet they have ships full of others just like us. This isn’t just about us. It’s about these alien assholes against our entire galaxy. We need to stick together.”
The two huge Juireans thought over his words of reason and diplomacy for a few seconds, before pushing past Adam and literally tearing the weak-boned Klin to shreds.
Adam stepped out of the way to avoid the ever-expanding pool of blood on the deck. He shrugged. “At least I tried.”
About an hour later, armed Nuorean guards came to the holding room and escorted the prisoners to individual cells, a room for each species. Adam was the only Human in the group so he got a private suite with his own cot and bathroom—what aliens called grooming stations. This grooming station consisted of not much more than a hole in the deck and a continuously running stream of dirty water, undoubtedly recycled—and hopefully not between cells. The main room was about six feet deep by ten wide, with the bathroom four by four.
Adam sat on the hard cot and looked around. It took him all of five seconds before he knew every square inch of his cell intimately. The door had slid shut, and there was a single light encased in glass flush with the ceiling. The walls were made of single panels of shiny metal. Beyond that, there wasn’t much more.
Adam tried his ATD, on the off chance it could link with the alien electronics, including the door controls. All he could do was detect the presence of the circuits, but the Formilian-designed device couldn’t influence any of them. He did, however, notice an electronic signal where the wall met the ceiling to his left. There was a one-inch-diameter black circle there, obviously a surveillance camera. He looked away nonchalantly, acting as if he hadn’t noticed the lens. There was no need to give away any of his secrets.
Restless, he stood and paced the room, before leaning against the right side wall and feeling the cold metal against his back, which was soothing on the friction burns he’d suffered earlier. When he went to pull away he noticed the metal wristband of his watch—yes, they’d let him keep his watch—clung to the metal until he pulled a little harder.
Magnets. There were magnets behind the wall.
Casually, he slid along the panel, acting bored and restless. Sure enough, every two feet his watchband would stick. He sat on the bed again and contemplated what he’d learned.
Why have magnets behind the wall? Then he looked closer at the panels themselves. They were one solid piece each, and with a thin gap along all four sides between the adjoining walls, floor and ceiling. None were bolted or welded, instead held in place by magnets.
Upon closer examination, the cells appeared to be makeshift rooms, adjustable depending on the size, shape and number of the occupants. The frames making up the sides must be able to slide within the narrow channels in the deck, and then covered with metal panels. It seemed an efficient way of making a lot of tiny rooms out of a larger space, yet still secure enough to hold the prisoners.
Adam Cain smiled. He had a plan.
The ceiling was only about seven feet high. Adam removed his shirt and wrapped his right hand in the cloth, then moved to just below the not-so-hidden camera and smashed his hand into the lens. The glass shattered.
He put his shirt back on and moved across the room. The six-foot-wide wall panel had some play in it, and Adam was able to work a couple of fingers in behind the quarter-inch thick plate. He pulled and the panel began to separate, breaking the magnetic bonds with the first horizontal stud. He pulled harder and the entire wall panel came loose.
Now came the tricky part. Adam balanced the plate on the floor as he slipped in behind it, moving the wall out about a foot while pressing his bo
dy between the studs as much as he could. He balanced the panel as best he could. He had nothing to hold on to, so at any moment the panel could topple away from him and into the room.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to hold this balancing act for long. He heard the door to his cell slide open and someone entered; in fact, he heard three distinct voices and his translation bug relayed what they said.
“Stay back as we restrain the prisoner.”
“Where is he?”
“The relief station?”
“He is not here!”
Footfalls sounded on the metal deck as at least three more aliens entered the room. Adam heard the legs of the cot clang against the floor, having been dropped after checking underneath.
“Activate an alarm,” someone commanded. “The alien is free.”
The room turned silent, but not the area outside. Adam heard running and shouting, urgency in the words. Soon the search moved beyond the cell.
Carefully, Adam leaned the panel towards him and let it pivot until he could slip back into the room. He quietly placed the panel against the studs and felt the magnets lock it into place.
The door to the cell was open and the camera unrepaired.
The plan had worked.
Now what?
With his ATD, Adam scanned the area outside the cell for any electrical concentrations that would indicate more surveillance cameras. There were none, just the ones in each of the cells lining the wide corridor.
He ducked back inside when four Nuoreans ran past, energy weapons in their hands, heading in the direction of the landing bay. When he’d been brought to the cell earlier, he’d memorized the route. The hangar deck was to his left, but it would be the first place they’d expect him to go, as evidenced by the detail rushing in that direction.
Adam needed a weapon and a layout of the ship. One person, intent on wreaking havoc, could really mess up the works. But what good would that do? This was just one ship out of what was undoubtedly a very large fleet. He had to think.
If he couldn’t get off the ship—and it wouldn’t do any good to disable it—all that was left was to take out the leader. That was always a good idea. Disrupt the chain of command and see what happens. It was also the last thing the aliens would be expecting. And Adam Cain had a pretty good idea who their leader was.
This thinking brought Adam back to his original needs list: A weapon and a layout of the ship.
The area outside the cell was quiet—for the moment—so he exited and turned right down the corridor, away from the landing bay. Assuming most of the aliens he would encounter would be armed, he needed to find a place to lie in wait for one of them to pass. There wasn’t any place in this corridor to hide, just a long series of doors leading to other cells. He quickened his pace until reaching a closed pressure door at the end of the huge chamber that had been converted into the holding cells.
A touchpad was on the wall next to the door. He had no idea what he’d find on other side, but he couldn’t stay here. He placed himself face-first against the narrow wall next to the door, out of sight of anyone on the other side, and activated the door panel.
With a swoosh it slid open. All was quiet. He poked his head around the doorframe. This new corridor was narrower—and empty. He raced down its length, passing several doorways different from those in the holding area. These appeared less secure, just standard doorways leading to work areas or sleeping quarters. Out of curiosity, he opened one.
It was an equipment room of some kind, containing several ten-foot-high square boxes with vents in their sides. Large conduit pipes joined the boxes and snaked into the overhead. There a steady hum and a slight breeze in the room. It was a ventilation station, designed to circulate air throughout the massive ship.
Adam wasn’t alone. At an inset workstation placed along a back wall sat two Nuorean crewmembers, busy monitoring their equipment; however, one turned when the door opened. Gold eyes met blue eyes, and Adam rushed at the pair without hesitation.
The first technician was on his feet and squared up against Adam’s charge a moment later. Adam threw his body sideways into the alien, sending them both piling on top of the workstation. As the strong arms of the first alien wrapped around Adam’s torso, the second one sprang into action, grabbing his legs and clamping down hard. For a moment, Adam couldn’t move, immobilized by the quick reactions of the Nuoreans. But neither could the aliens. A muscular arm then reached out for a panel on the console, hoping to activate an alarm, leaving only one arm to hold Adam’s legs.
He broke the grip on his leg and lashed out with a kick to the alien’s head. He fell back, just as Adam and the other alien rolled off the table. A couple of strong jabs with his elbow into the alien’s ribs convinced the creature to release him. Adam twisted around until he faced the Nuorean. The gold eyes were intense and devoid of fear. In fact, the slight smile on the brown face gave Adam the impression he was enjoying the fight.
A powerful right cross changed the alien’s mind. His head snapped to the left, eyes fluttering. A second punch closed the eyes completely, and they stayed that way.
Another strong arm now wrapped around Adam’s neck and pulled him off the floor. He was bent back, as a fist began to pound repeatedly into his right side. These aliens were definitely accomplished fighters—even the damn equipment techs—but like most, they lacked strength when compared to a Human. Not much, but enough.
Adam pressed with his legs, sending the pair crashing backwards into a nearby bulkhead. The alien gasped, weakening his hold around Adam’s neck. Grasping the Nuorean’s wrist, Adam twisted his body, reversing the positions of both fighters. Now Adam’s forearm clamped around the alien’s neck. He squeezed tight as desperate hands tried to break the hold. Grasping his right hand with his left, Adam applied even more pressure until he heard a pronounced snap, and the creature went limp in his arms.
Adam let the alien slump to the deck before searching both his victims for a weapon. They had none. Next he searched the workstation. Still nothing. But there were computer screens, on and active.
Adam replaced a dislodged chair and sat down, surveying the console. All he had to do was find a way to access a layout of the ship, if he could even do it from here.
The first alien began to come to; with nonchalance, Adam placed a booted foot against his neck and pressed. Another snap…and the alien was no longer a concern. Adam returned his attention to the computer screens.
The pad before him was square and contained forty keys, each with a different symbol. Adam started with the keys along the top row, left to right. The screens changed with nearly every keystroke, but he still didn’t find what he was looking for. Then he tried the keys along the sides, beginning on the left.
A schematic appeared, looking like veins in a body and thread throughout the entire ship in a hard-to-follow and confusing maze. It was a layout of the ventilation system, and it was in 3-D. Noting the key that had brought up the image, Adam tried others. Soon he could spin the image, viewing it from several angles, as well as zoom in and out, discovering that the more he zoomed in, the more detail was revealed. He could see where the vital systems of the ship were placed, including the bridge and the officers’ country nearby. He could even make out control consoles, workstations and even furniture in graphic detail, if not with actual images.
His current location was also highlighted, which gave him a point of reference.
Damn, the ship was big, and as would be expected, the bridge was at the opposite end from the hangar bays and prisoner holding cells. It would be impossible for him to make his way there—to the place where he hoped to find the leader of the Nuoreans—without being seen.
So…if I’m going to be seen, I need to go in disguise.
The two dead aliens at his feet were both slightly taller than him, one more so than the other. He stripped the shorter one of his two-piece dark green uniform and placed it over his own clothing. He removed the alien’s light rubber shoes and slipped
them onto his feet. They fit fairly well. Next, he rolled the excess length of pant legs into his socks and then folded the cloth to the proper length.
Body-wise, he would pass. But his light pink skin and short blond hair would be a problem. All the aliens had light brown skin, gold eyes and black hair. And none he’d seen wore hats.
Under his uniform, the alien wore an off-white undershirt made of a coarse material. Adam tore off a piece of it and wrapped it around his head and most of his face. Next, he took another piece and fashioned a sling. Lastly, he smashed his foot into the face of the dead alien until blood oozed from the mouth and nose of the still-warm body. Dipping another piece of cloth in the red liquid, Adam finished off the ensemble with another layer of blood-soaked cloth around his face, covering one eye and most of the other.
The aliens had just taken part in an attack on Formil, so it was a pretty good bet some were injured, yet still managed to evacuate the planet. Adam Cain looked like one of the survivors.
Lastly, he took a datapad off the workstation. It would serve as his clipboard…and no one ever questions someone with a clipboard.
He had a disguise and he knew the layout of the ship. All he needed now was a weapon.
Adam left the ventilation room…and had the first test of his disguise ten seconds later.
Three armed Nuoreans rushed towards him in the corridor. One nodded; Adam nodded back and stepped aside to let the trio pass. They were headed aft, toward the hangar bay. They continued without looking back.
The layout of most starships followed more or less the same plan. On a ship this large, several long spine corridors ran the length, with service elevators and stairways connecting the different levels. Adam was on one of the lower decks, those most-often reserved for lower ranking crewmembers and equipment rooms. He continued along this corridor for what seemed like an hour, passing through countless pressure doorways as hundreds of Nuoreans rushed by, most seeming agitated. Many were armed, yet they moved in squads. Adam knew these guys could fight, so he wasn’t anxious to press the issue by going up against several of them in order to secure a weapon. He would have to be patient.
