by T. R. Harris
Adam gripped the control stick and cranked it over hard to the right. The ship surged forward on its own chemical exhaust, making a beeline for the outer perimeter of the TZ. They reached it only seconds later and plowed straight into the middle of the Nuorean fleet.
“I think we should have taken a vote on whether to commit suicide or not,” Riyad said from the comm station. “That’s usually a very personal decision.”
“Just hold on…I have an idea.”
The massive Nuorean contingent was operating on chemical drive as well, being too close to one another to use gravity-wells, even light maneuvering wells. Several of the ships on Adam’s starboard side reacted to his arrival by unleashing cannon bolts at the small Human starship as they sped by. The distance-to-target was measured in hundreds of meters—not thousands—and the hot plasma balls were at the Najmah Fayd in seconds flat.
That’s when Adam flipped the ship over on its back. Every bolt, rivet and weld throughout the ship protested in no uncertain terms, the screeching and whining adding to the chorus of screams from the inertia-tortured crew. Adam had used a combination of chem drive and maneuvering jets to send the ship into a pinwheel motion he didn’t even know it could do. But it worked; the bolts passed under the Najmah Fayd, heating up the hull only twenty feet away.
But then the plasma bolts kept going. Three Nuorean cruisers on the port side of the Najmah Fayd had their vision blocked to the launching of the bolts. Their shields were down—a fatal mistake—and the six bolts burned effortlessly through their grey hulls a heartbeat later. The ships shuddered violently, as secondary explosions erupted from within.
Two other ships had also launched bolts at the Human ship, and it was all Adam’s crew could do just to hold on as he performed another series of twists and cartwheels to dodge the incoming ordinance. This time, however, the nearby fleet was ready for the rogue bolts. Some of the ships raised their shields in time, while another abruptly changed course. Unfortunately for the fleet, this unexpected course change set off a chain reaction of collisions in the neat rows of alien warcraft. A small explosion was seen off in the distance, while the rest of the damage consisted of banged up hulls and torn off antenna arrays.
But the shooting stopped…as Adam had anticipated.
The crew of the Najmah Fayd sat in stunned silence as their ship drifted slowly past dozens of enemy warships, all sitting idle, daring not to shoot for fear of friendly-fire casualties. Copernicus didn’t light off his weapons, either. That might initiate an all-out firefight regardless of the friendly casualties.
Adam glanced at the chronograph on the bulkhead. Someone had reset it to reflect the time required to recharge the batteries. Adam pursed his lips in disgust. All his great tactics and wild maneuvering had only eaten up three minutes. They still had another seven to kill. He focused on the last word in his thought: kill—as in to die. The question now became: how long would the Nuoreans let this strange truce last?
The comm line crackled.
Adam turned to Riyad and nodded. A dialogue with the aliens could buy them time.
“This is the Noobean Security Vessel…Bob,” Adam stammered. “We inadvertently entered your restricted area in the Milky—I mean the Kac—Galaxy. We mean you no harm. We just wish to return to our galaxy.”
Riyad frowned, and then mouthed the word ‘Bob.’
Adam shrugged.
“Noobean…?” a Nuorean voice said over the comm link. “Our reports are conflicted. You are an enemy warship that intentionally breached the staging area in the Kac.”
Adam watched the seconds tick off the clock. “That’s not true. Why would we do that? It would mean certain death.”
“Your ship performed extraordinary maneuvers. That confirms your identity as a Kac warship.”
“I said we are a security vessel. Of course we would have capabilities beyond those of normal ships. I understand the Nuoreans have extensive files on all the races within the Kac. Please check your records. You will find the Noobeans are neutral in the present conflict.”
“Neutral? There are no neutral parties. We have made no such agreements. All races within the Kac are potential challenges.”
“Check your records. You’ll find that is not so.”
There a long pause on the comm-link. The clock was down to one minute, forty seconds.
“I…I am checking, yet I still do not understand the nature of your claims,” said the alien through the speakers. “Transit ships are reporting your vessel appeared unexpectedly in the transfer area, after destroying two of our ships in a prior engagement. Then you destroyed a third within the zone.”
“They’re mistaken. Check your records.”
The nearby ships in the Nuorean fleet had been slowly moving away, opening up space around the Najmah Fayd. They were preparing to engage and making enough room to do so. It was going to be tight.
The clock ran down to zero.
Adam muted his microphone and looked anxiously over at Jym. The alien shook his head. “Another twenty seconds,” he said.
An enemy cruiser had broken the line and was moving in behind the Najmah Fayd. Adam rested his finger on the jump button, waiting for Jym’s word. The Nuorean ship moved a little closer, making sure that if the intruder initiated any more radical moves, they could still strike their target.
Jym nodded…and Adam pressed the button.
The greenish glow filled the viewport once again.
“Where we going?” Riyad asked.
“Does it matter?” Sherri answered. “Just anywhere out of the hornet’s nest.”
The glow flickered momentarily before returning, and a moment later, the clean black of normal space filled the port.
Adam breathed a sigh of relief. That was—
“We have company!” Copernicus yelled from the weapons station.
“Not more Nuoreans?” Riyad said.
“Not more…the same. We pulled that attacking ship along with us in the TD jump…and he’s firing.”
Perhaps Adam should have warned the others before he acted, but he didn’t; he figured they would forgive him after he saved their lives. He initiated a small gravity back-well, which jerked the ship to the rear, throwing everyone forward in their seats. The small singularity also gobbled up the two incoming plasma bolts.
Unfortunately, the enemy warship was too close on their six to avoid the gravity-well—as well as the careening Najmah Fayd.
The angle of intercept was off by just a fraction, which avoided a full on collision with the alien starship. However, the gravity-well had done a job on the forward superstructure of the enemy warcraft, absorbing most of the nose of the ship while sending huge chunks of debris racing into space before Adam could shut down the well. But the Najmah Fayd still had momentum and crashed into the mangled mess of the Nuorean battlecruiser becoming entangled within the metal skeleton.
Adam brought the Najmah Fayd to a stop relative to the bulk of the alien ship, hoping to avoid any more crucial equipment pods being torn from the hull. The deafening screeching sound stopped, with the Najmah Fayd now held firmly within the ragged arms of the dead Nuorean warship.
There was a long, tense silence on the bridge, as the crew soaked in the reality of their situation.
Riyad broke the silence. “Where are we?”
Sherri laughed. “Besides stuck inside an alien warship, I haven’t a clue. We’re in an alien galaxy with no navigational charts for the local terrain.”
Adam had the exterior cameras scanning the carcass of the Nuorean ship. “I wonder if their nav computer survived?” he asked rhetorically. Looking at the utter destruction displayed on the forward viewscreen, he didn’t hold out much hope.
“We can take a look, fearless leader,” Riyad said, “as we cut ourselves loose. But we should definitely have a Plan B.”
Adam switched the screen view to that of a graphic of the local area out as far as their sensors could reach. They’d landed just outside the diffused boundar
y of the gigantic galaxy. There were several star systems nearby, but nothing like the density they would find farther in. Their scans provided only rudimentary information.
Fortunately, they did have a bead on where they’d just left—the transit zone surrounded by five thousand alien warcraft. They’d jumped fifteen light-years out into the void between galaxies. It was far enough to avoid detection from the TZ, but still too close for comfort.
Adam unbuckled his shoulder restraints. “All right, first things first,” he began. “We have to get free of the loving arms of our new friend. Coop, you’re the mechanic; take Riyad and Kaylor. And see if there is an intact navigation computer aboard. Sherri, Jym and I will stay here and see if we can make any sense out of the local scans. My friends, our Andromeda Mission is now officially underway!”
Adam was a little disappointed when there came no return cheers of enthusiasm and or a single ‘hooyah’ war cry. Instead, the crew simply unbuckled—and dejectedly—went off to perform their appointed tasks.
93
An estimated seventy-four percent of Nuoreans don’t live on the planet Nuor. A thousand years before—as their population grew—they commandeered six worlds close to the Nuorean system and moved the bulk of the population to them. With a whole galaxy at their disposal, the race never worried about overpopulation, or even the lack of natural resources. They simply took what they needed.
Now with a population of over one hundred billion, the race continued to produce an ample supply of eager players—for both the Andromeda Galaxy and now the Kac.
The planet Nuor was still the capital of the empire—if the Nuoreans considered their conquests an empire. But they didn’t think like that. They took only what was necessary to sustain their society, while dominating alien planets for raw material and contestants in their immunity challenges. Other than that, these worlds were free to exist, as long as they posed no inherent threat to the Nuoreans.
Nuor housed the administrative, military and accounting functions of the society, including the residences of the Qualify Masters and the Grand Masters, as well as their security arm, the Third Cadre. The other six worlds were populated by the six main blood-teams, along with dozens of minor teams still in the process of amassing members and points.
Nuorean society was much like the bulk of advanced life. They lived in mating pairs, had children in the conventional sense and lived in homes and communities. Most had jobs off-planet, and every six days would depart in fleets of shuttles to the various manufacturing worlds in the area. They would serve six-day shifts before returning to their assigned planet and their families. There they would remain for another six days before the next shift change.
Yet during their days off, Nuoreans did more than just relax with their families and play with their pets. This was a time of training for the games, as well combat in the local arenas. Although they acquired proficiency points at their jobs, it was the points they earned in the games that provided them with the bulk of their wealth. And points were everything to a Nuorean. They determined the type of home they lived in, the mates they acquired and the influence they had in local affairs.
The combat arenas numbered in the thousands and were scattered across every world. Fourteen broadcast channels televised the matches constantly, since few of the natives had the time to attend live contests unless they had a vested interest in the outcome.
Most of the challenges were between different blood-teams. This way wealth was transferred from team to team, rather than from within.
In the distant past, each blood-team had been settled on a particular world, but this caused problems. Challenges were more frequent between team members, and mating within the bloodlines resulted in deformities and other maladies. Four hundred years ago, the worlds were integrated, which solved most of the problems. It was now easier to face challengers from other blood-teams.
Occasionally aliens were brought to the sub-worlds—as they were called—allowing qualified players to acquire immunity points directly. This category of points was earned only by fighting aliens. Traditional combat only resulted in the transfer of possession points and were never to the death—except accidentally. Immunity challenges were always to the death.
Immunity points allowed a Nuorean to engage in more competitive challenges without the potential loss of status or possessions, allowing players to seek higher levels without too much inherent risk. But for the common Nuorean, immunity points had become hard to come by recently.
Only the most-qualified Nuoreans were allowed to face the aliens, not so much for fear of injury, but because of the scarcity of the other-worlders. For thousands of years, the players of Nuor had decimated the populations of the most-worthy races, until now they were managed much like growth crops. And for those Nuoreans who didn’t rate meeting aliens face-to-face, they had to challenge others of their kind with immunity points in their awards package—and win.
Even so, the aliens brought to the sub-worlds were minor races, offering little challenge. The truly worthy races were reserved for the grand arenas on Nuor.
There was a hierarchy of combat facilities on Nuor, culminating in the grand center called the Noc Arena. It was named for one of the founding blood-teams, and it was here where the Qualifying and Grand Masters fought—if allowed.
Nuoreans could only engage in combat challenges between the ages of twenty and eighty. Beyond eighty, a Nuorean would retain whatever position they’d attained—unless another acquired more points to unseat them. Most of the QMs and GMs were beyond challenge years, which meant they would carry these titles with them for the rest of their lives.
The accumulated points of every living Nuorean was a matter of public record, which is why the Fourth Cadre—the accounting division of the Nuorean government—was so important. There was no disputing the number of points acquired or the resulting leadership of the race. Whoever had the most points was the leader, the highest Grand Master of them all.
The Qualifying and Grand Masters live on Nuor and are given vast estates relative to their status. The QMs had lands equal to ten square miles in size. The Grand Masters ruled over estates one hundred miles square, with the most magnificent views and in the most-temperate climate zones. And no estate was grander than that of Rodoc (1,402) Kallen-Noc, the current leader of the Nuorean race.
The breeze filtering in through the open expanse of sliding doors was cool and refreshing, which helped to vent the growing mustiness from the twelve people assembled in the vast dining area. They were seated at a round table, with the most senior of the Nuoreans afforded a view through the opening. The others had their backs to the portal.
Rodoc had the best view, even though as the estate’s current master he’d seen it countless times before. Still, his guests were impressed. The huge home extended over a steep cliff above a rocky beach several hundred feet below. Beyond was a shimmering sea, reflecting sparkles of yellow and orange from the rapidly setting sun.
Only the four Grand Masters and two Qualifying Masters in attendance had experienced the view before—with a few exceptions. For the others—the Lead Players and Third Cadre members—this was a unique privilege they were being afforded.
But this wasn’t a social gathering. It was to discuss an odd event that had occurred only a few hours before.
A holographic image glowed above the center of the table. Displayed was a cluster of Nuorean warships surrounding a dark grey spacecraft about a fifth the size of a battlecruiser. It was of alien design; oblong with a bulbous nose and tail and two small wings projecting from the aft third of the ship. It was gliding along a row of Nuorean vessels, seemingly with impunity.
And then it disappeared—along with a battlecruiser close to it tail.
The attendees had watched the same scene half a dozen times already, at regular speed and in extreme slow motion. The result was always the same. One moment the ship—ships—were there…the next they weren’t.
“It is some form of stealth coveri
ng, cloaking in a manner,” said Third Cadre Commander Bindas (324) Kallen-Noc. “It is beyond our technology—at this time.”
“But why send just one ship?” asked Qualify Master Dasic (455) Lindon-Ca. “If the Kac has such technology, why are they not employing it against our players even now?”
“These are challenging questions,” Rodoc said.
“If I may, Grand Master,” said another of the Third Cadre officers present. He was Morlon (783) Voden-Mor, the highest ranking of his class in attendance. “There could be another explanation.”
Within Nuorean society there were no status barriers. Any Nuorean was free to speak to any other Nuorean, if respect was offered beforehand. “Please, Morlon, continue.”
“I have been studying the records from the battle around ND-12 in the Kac. This is where my Third Cadre teammate Azon (1,901) was slayed by the Human Adam Cain.”
“Yes, I have also viewed the broadcasts that were operational at the time. They are of poor quality, yet they tell the story.”
“As that relates to this new situation, there was a report of an enemy vessel suddenly appearing above the planet. With a battle taking place in the space beyond, the ground forces were very aware of traffic within their skies. There was no trace of the ship’s approach, just its appearance.”
“And what did this vessel do upon arrival?” ask the Qualifying Master Dasic.
“It landed near the arena where Azon was fighting and subsequently evacuated the Humans from the facility.”
“Including Adam Cain?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Could this be the same ship?”
“It displays the same abilities.”
