by T. R. Harris
Olsen didn’t know if ‘top brass’ would translate properly, but he didn’t care. The Juireans were becoming the largest stumbling block to forming a unified response to the Nuoreans. Adam Cain really bloodied their nose a year ago, and they were still fighting to regain respect within the galaxy. Yet without them, there could be no effective counter to the invaders.
“Juirean forces would be under Juirean command?” the Overlord asked.
“Of course…after the overall battle plan has been formulated.”
“That is how it must be,” Nadar declared. “Juireans will not take orders from Humans.”
“And vice versa.”
“Then it is agreed.”
“And what of the rest of us?” asked the Formilian.
“Representatives from all the contributing fleets will form an advisory council for the commanders. Your assets, capabilities and concerns will be weighed and integrated into any battle strategy. The war with the Nuoreans is everyone’s war. Granted, the bulk will be carried out by the major military powers, yet I know everyone in the galaxy wants to do their part. The opportunity will be provided. Your sacrifice will be needed before this is over.”
“This is a complicated command structure, involving many layers of partisan authority,” said the Rigorian representative. “Yet action must be taken immediately to prevent further infestation by the invaders.”
If any race looked deadly and imposing, it was the lizard-like Rigorians, with their alligator-like heads and unblinking yellow eyes. Yet their military was run more like an affiliation of criminal gangs, with hundreds of independent factions maneuvering for control. They were good fighters but trying to get them all on the same page could be a challenge. Members of their race had been taken by the Nuoreans as well and they wanted to fight—hell, they always wanted to fight—but what form their contribution would take was the question.
“Very astute observation, Klackon Draysis.” Klackon was the Rigorian word for commander. “To cut off the entire spur from the galaxy will require at least five thousand ships, maybe more. The only force in the region large enough is that of the Juireans. A Human fleet is on the way, yet still several months away.”
“So if the Nuoreans attack, it will be mainly Juirean lives that are lost,” stated the Overlord. “And for this we are offered only equal command?”
“Your solitary stand at the barrier is only temporary,” replied Olsen. “But if we don’t act soon, the Nuorean threat could spread throughout the galaxy and be much harder to weed out at that point.”
Nadar considered the proposal for a moment before responding. “We shall agree, with the condition that Juirean Military Command shall have veto power over any strategy developed by the joint operational commanders.”
“Pardon me, Overlord Nadar,” said the Formilian Rasx, “but that would add another layer of bureaucracy to the chain of command. It would also place the Juireans essentially in overall command of the war effort.”
“We risk most; we should have the most input.”
The meeting had gone on like this for two hours, talking in circles over the same roadblock issue. Admiral Olsen was growing weary and frustrated. All this squabbling was costing the allied forces precious time. He let out a soft laugh at the word allied. Nothing at this point was allied against the common enemy. And then there was the larger issue….
“Let me run your proposal by my people, Overlord Nadar. In the meantime, has any progress been made in locating the entry point for the Nuoreans? As we know, they didn’t make the two-point-five million light-year journey from Andromeda to here on conventional gravity drive. They must have a device that allows them to jump between galaxies. This has to be a major facility, located somewhere out along the Radis Spur. Until we shut that down, the Nuoreans will continue to send more units through. It’s just like the Sol-Kor and their trans-dimensional portals, except there’s probably only one such device in use by the invaders.”
“Why do you assume that?” asked Eckcon, the Silean.
“Because so far the main concentration of Nuoreans has been in the Spur…and we haven’t detected the contributions of any mutant genius helping them with some break-through technology. If they were popping up all over the place, then we’d have a bigger problem.”
“This then should be our priority,” stated the Overlord, “even more so than closing off the Spur. If we can shut off their supply of reinforcements, then the rest will die a slow and natural death, as we strike at their remaining force.”
Olsen nodded. “I agree, Overlord Nadar. Yet it should be one of our priorities, but not the only one. We have no idea where this device is located and what it would take to destroy it. Such a mission would also involve transiting the Spur to find it. I’m interested in saving lives now by isolating the cancer to a small region of the galaxy. After that we can launch expeditions to search for the entry point.”
“It appears as if the Humans have already taken control,” Nadar stated coldly. “We have offered plans and the admiral then renders a decision. That is not what the Juireans will accept.”
We’re back to this…again! “I am not trying to impose control,” Olsen argued. “I’m merely pointing out considerations.”
“Then please let me make a proposal,” said Rasx. The Formilians were taking a more active role in the affairs of the galaxy ever since Lila Bol assumed control of the Expansion. This wasn’t sitting well with certain parties. Although the mutant was technically half-Formilian, most of the galaxy hadn’t yet accepted her race as the default leaders of the galaxy. Lila was a one-of-a-kind being and feared by all; her people, not so much. Still, this hadn’t stopped the Formilians from becoming more vocal.
“I propose we do both. It would not be advantageous at this point to blindly invade the Radis Spur in search of something we have no idea what it looks like, or even if it is there. I suggest we blockade the Spur, using Juirean forces at first, then supplemented by others as these units become available. In conjunction, an exploratory mission is launched to find the Nuorean access point to our galaxy. It should be a small operation—possibly even a single ship—allowing it to move about the Spur without attracting the attention of the invaders. Then once we have more intelligence, we can better plan a mission to destroy…whatever the Nuoreans are using to reach us. As you see, we have no idea what this something is in order to even give it a name.”
Olsen liked the idea, but still looked to the screen with the Juirean for his reaction. After a moment, Nadar’s huge head nodded, sending waves through his magnificent mane of blue hair. “I will recommend the action to blockade the Radis Spur. Yet I assign the task of sending the exploratory mission to the Humans. They appear to prefer operations involving subterfuge and sabotage to prideful confrontations between major forces.”
Even with the overall strategy decided, it took another two hours banging out the details before the links were broken. Alan was exhausted. He’d never fought so hard in his life to get his point across. Yet now—hopefully—the danger will be isolated to the Radis Spur. He wasn’t even sure if they could contain the threat, but it was a start. The Nuoreans were so new on the scene that they could have a whole plethora of secret weapons they haven’t revealed to date.
It was for that reason that Admiral Alan Olsen was a step ahead of the others on the links. A reconnaissance mission into Nuorean territory was already in the works, designed to assess enemy strength, capabilities and intentions. Discovering how the aliens were getting into the galaxy would also be a major part of the operation.
As the highest ranking Human military commander in the Perseus Slice—the half of the galaxy on the opposite side from Earth—Alan Olsen had access to all the resources of Union Military Intelligence. This provided him with information classified far above Top Secret, or even Special Access. A few days ago he began researching current assets already operating in the Radis Spur. There was only one.
The Spur was a backwater region of the galaxy,
with its only claim to fame being that it was where the Juireans set up shop after their debacle against the Humans and the Kracori almost twenty years ago. They remained there for seven years before returning to Juir, and even a few years after that as they shut down their operations.
In the vacuum created by their departure, a burgeoning criminal element took over, gaining strength over the past ten years. Recently, drugs and weapons traced back to the Spur were showing up in the Union, prompting a tentative foray into the area to gain more information as a prelude to a much larger deterrent operation.
As Olsen scanned the data on his screen, he discovered the undercover asset was already well-established in Spur. This would give the allies a leg up. It was just a single person who had been in the area for a little over two years, apparently having requested the duty—for whatever reason, the Admiral couldn’t imagine.
Olsen smirked as he read the file. The allies had agreed to a small operation, and one man was about as small as they came. Yes, he would do nicely. The Admiral opened a link with Earth to request the formal transfer of the asset to his command. While waiting for the connection, Olsen checked the name again, just to make he’d read it correctly. It was a strange one.
Copernicus Smith.
53
The Nuorean fleet had continued on course for seven days before spreading out and occupying the space around a small uncharted stellar cluster. The aliens couldn’t have picked a more isolated section of the galaxy to make their foray into the Milky Way. It masked their operations and provided the allies with very few landmarks for reference.
Riyad had been closing on the huge fleet for seven days—longer than had been anticipated. But now that the enemy ships had settled down it was his turn. He backed off on the gravity-well and steered the MD-8c on a course to skirt the cluster. He wanted to be noticed, but not labeled a threat. He was fishing, and the MD-8c was the bait.
“Looks like we got a bite,” Sherri called out from the nav board. “A squad of five—no six—ships headed on an intercept course from the cluster.”
Riyad cranked the well a little deeper and steered away from the approaching craft. “Don’t want it make it look too easy, not like we’re trying to get caught,” he said before the question was asked.
“Just don’t get us blown up,” Sherri offered.
Riyad caused a flare-out of the well, which was a brief dumping out into regular space. Flares occurred occasionally, especially when accelerating and decelerating in short intervals. By the time he reestablished the well, the Nuorean ships were upon them.
The aliens didn’t try to establish a comm link with them. Instead, they simply launched one of their energy balls at the ship. Screens were raised. When the concentrated ball of electricity hit the diffusion shield and was absorbed, it was too much for the internal circuits to handle. The technology wasn’t revolutionary, just effective. With time, allied ships would install stronger breakers to protect their systems.
But for now, the MD-8c was dead in the water, with the aliens hovering around without making a move to board. That came several hours later, after the occupants had begun to climb the walls out of boredom. Sure, the internal atmosphere was reaching the critical level, but they knew the alien’s game plan. They would be boarded in time to save their lives—or at least the lives of those aboard who could die.
The aliens weren’t cruel or even rough with the crew. In fact, they were workmanlike in their routine. The only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was when they scanned the races aboard and found that there were four Humans aboard…along with one Formilian. Panur and J’nae had morphed into their Human personas by then, and the scanners only matched body features to the Nuorean’s growing database of Milky Way species. The aliens seemed pretty excited about this and one even made an impromptu call as the prisoners were shuttled over to a larger ship.
The MD-8c was magnetically tethered to another ship for towing, while the ship carrying the prisoners shot off with extra urgency, leaving the others behind.
The prisoners, consisting of Riyad, Sherri, Panur, J’nae and Trimen were placed in a back compartment that was filthy and smelled like animal excrement. There was even a thin coating of straw on the deck to help absorb some of the left over dung.
“Is this how they transport advanced species?” Riyad asked, wrinkling his nose. He looked at Sherri. “I suppose you feel right at home.”
“I love the smell of horse urine in the morning…it’s the smell of victory,” said the former veterinary student. “But doesn’t this remind you of the chicken coops and sheep stalls where you grew up?”
Riyad was Lebanese by birth—but a city boy from Beirut.
“Brings a homesick tear to my eye,” he said, carrying the joke way beyond its lifespan. “I wonder where we are?”
“We have just entered a star system with twelve planets. The fourth one from the star is our destination. They call it Ankaa.”
Riyad and Sherri looked at the thin-faced Human Panur had transformed into as if he’d just grown a second head. “How the hell do you know that?” Sherri asked.
“I have accessed their navigation system.” He smiled. “Have you forgotten that I have powers?”
“On the contrary,” Sherri began. “It’s those powers I’m counting on to save Adam.”
Panur looked at the figure sitting next to him; also a Human male, this one with dark hair, a trace of stubble and brilliant blue eyes. J’nae had assumed the form of a male, knowing from the interrogation of Nuorean prisoners that only males were being kidnapped.
“How are you doing?” Panur asked. His ability to morph into specific forms was more practiced and required less energy. For J’nae to maintain the cell transformation required was more draining. To Riyad, it only went to show that not all mutants were created alike.
“I detect no security cameras nearby. I believe I will reform back, only for a moment. It is all I require to realign.”
The six-foot-two-inch man melded into a seven-foot-tall alien female over the course of eight seconds. A look of relief came over the mutant’s face.
“Panur, may I ask how you can access the alien electronic technology when my Gift—my brain interface—cannot?” Trimen asked.
“Please call me George, George Washington,” the young man said. “If I am to look like a Human, I prefer to be called by the name of a great one, according to Human history. Now to answer your question: I am not really accessing it. Instead I mentally scan power sources until I can decipher the electronic signatures of the data they represent. I’m like a processor of data, not a reader.”
The answer was detailed, but still left the non-mutants in the room completely baffled, including Trimen.
“That seems much more complicated than simply pulling data from a memory drive.”
“Not more complicated, just more difficult. Once I’ve had more time with Nuorean technology, I will be able to fully access their systems. Right now, I lack the motivation.”
The ship lurched to one side then began to slow. Gravity drive switched to chemical and the internals were cut when planetary gravity became present. Three minutes later the ship was on the surface of Ankaa.
J’nae transformed back into her Human shape.
“Do you have a name you want to be called too?” Sherri asked.
“I have not considered it. I am not as familiar with Human history as is my creator.”
“I suppose Adolph Hitler would be appropriate.”
“However, I am familiar enough with your history to know that name. I would not prefer to be called Adolph Hitler.”
“Then Damien, Damien Jones.”
“An obvious reference to your devil deity. I will accept that, for the time I have this form.”
The prisoners were taken from the holding room and moved through the center of the ship to an outer hatch. They stepped into fading natural light and a hot breeze. Hundreds of artificial lights were snapping on, triggered by sensors. A very g
enerous helping of Nuoreans walked a fair distance away from the landing zone, at a cluster of buildings that looked to be huge tents, all of the same design.
The one structure that stood out the most was still under construction, but nearing completion. It was made of huge stone blocks, mixed with sheets of metal, some fifty-feet across. The building was rectangular, measuring five hundred feet across along its face. From where the prisoners stood, they couldn’t tell how deep it was.
A six-wheel electric vehicle pulled up, with a partitioned section at the rear. Guards opened doors and the prisoners climbed in without protest. The sides of the back section were made of glass, allowing them to take in the lay of the land.
The Nuorean settlement was large and growing larger. Vast swatches of land were already cleared, and the footings for more buildings like the nearly-completed structure were already in place. There could be a dozen such buildings when this part of the project was complete.
The transport stopped in front of a tent like all the others. A Nuorean stepped through the open doorway, followed by three others. The prisoners were hustled from the back of the truck.
“I am Daric (611) Kallen-Nac, the leader of this expedition.” The alien stepped up to Sherri and Riyad, his golden eyes wide, a thin grin on his lips. “Our facial recognition database is very limited at this time, yet we do have the images of many of the more prominent entities in your galaxy. So you must appreciate the surprise I felt when I learned we had Sherri Valentine and Riyad Tarazi in our custody. Did I pronounce your names correctly?”
“Yeah, you did fine,” said Riyad with suspicion. “You know who we are?”
“Of course. I also know of your affiliation with Adam Cain. You are undoubtedly here to rescue him.”
“He’s here?” Sherri asked.
“You did not know this? I find that hard to believe. Why else would have so recklessly entered this section of your galaxy without escort or more force.” He eyed Trimen and the Human incarnations of Panur and J’nae.
