by T. R. Harris
Adam turned to his friends. “I believe this is a version of the T35R scenario; he’s telling us the truth because he doesn’t believe we’re going to live.”
The look of shock on the face of the Grand Master was priceless. “I have no understanding how you could know that? That is truly impressive, Adam Cain. Yet I have no need to employ such a strategy. You are my prisoners, and as prisoners you will die. Move them along.”
Cashin held back, discussing something with a few of the Third Cadre officers. The Cadre was distinguished from the others by the three yellow stripes on the chests of their black uniforms.
Adam and his team were led along the corridor and up the wide stairway to the main level of the huge building. The smell of paint was especially strong here, as Us workers still scurried about, putting the final touches on a job that obviously hadn’t been completed in time for the Grand Master’s arrival. Adam imagined there would be hell to pay for the missed deadline.
They exited through the same doorway the alien Joris had led Adam through the day before. It was early morning, and the brilliant Bancc-Bin sun glared over the distant pillars of the Us city—the name of which he never learned. Nuorean guards rushed forward to clear away the painters, opening a path to two boxy trucks, one with the back open, waiting for the prisoners.
Without warning, the right side of Adam’s face was sprayed with a sheet of off-white paint. He raised his shackled hands to wipe the thick liquid from his eye, as he caught glimpse of chaos erupting outside the stadium door.
Several of the natives were armed with powerful sprayers, each with long nozzles aimed at the Nuorean guards. Paint was everywhere, as blinded and soaked Nuoreans thrashed about, slippery hands unable to hold flash weapons against the continued onslaught of even more paint jetting their way.
Strong hands took Adam by the arm and pulled him away. A moment later, he was thrown into the back of a truck—not the Nuorean truck, but another—and the door slammed shut. The vehicle shot away at reckless speed.
Adam rolled over, still blinded in his right eye, but able to spot Sherri, Riyad and Copernicus on the floor next to him. They too were covered in paint.
Someone offered him a wet towel. It was Kies, Afton’s mate. She was on a bench seat running along the inner wall of the truck. She was strapped in and able to stay in place as the truck swerved and bounced away from the Nuorean base.
Adam wiped his face with the cloth. “You’re going to get in some major trouble for this,” he said to the Us female—he still couldn’t tell the genders apart.
“It is to be expected,” she said. These were the first words he’d heard her speak. “My cherished was taken away last night and killed by the Nuoreans, simply for affording you courtesy, betrayed by that insoric Nissi. I have never liked her; she had interests in Afton. Now with my life shattered, I will get my revenge on her by helping you escape.”
Adam and the others sat up, with Coop and Sherri taking a seat across from Kies. “Thank you for helping,” Sherri said. Kies nodded, accepting Sherri as a female of the Human race, and therefore more relatable. “Where are we going?”
“I witnessed your space vessel at the Windward Point last night. It did not find you, so I assume it is still free to act.”
“That’s right,” Adam said. “I can make contact, tell them where to find us.”
“We are going to the Grand Park in central Linnor-Kis. Your ship can meet you there.”
“Is it visible from the air?”
“Very much so. And I also believe you were looking for one of these.”
Kies leaned over and pulled a three-foot-square metal box from under the seat. There were slots on the front and connectors along the other three sides.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“It is a navigational module from a cargo vessel. It should have the information you seek, if you can find a way to connect it to your system. That is beyond my knowledge.”
Adam smiled and took the thin hand of the alien in his. “We’ll manage, Kies. Thank you very much. And along with you, we mourn the loss of Afton. He seemed to be a decent being.”
“He was. As are all the Us…except for Nissi.”
“Yeah, she was kind of a bitch.”
100
The comm screen in Rodoc’s private office flashed on, signifying a priority message coming in from the capital. The Nuorean leader slipped into his chair and activated the return signal.
“Master, good news,” said the Third Cadre officer Morlon. His face was animated. “Adam Cain was captured yesterday on Bancc-Bin. He is now with the others.”
“I thought you said he was dead?” The accusatory tone was biting. “Now you see why I insisted on viewing his corpse.”
“You were correct, Master. He is an elusive and worthy opponent. But now he is in the holding pens at the screening facility. He—and the others—are secure. No alien has ever escaped from the pens.”
“Where is Grand Master Cashin?”
“He arrived a while ago on the planet with the Third Cadre force. I am sending in additional units to assist in the search for the Human space vessel. And Master Cashin has requested a challenge match with one of the Humans. He mentioned Adam Cain.”
“Of course he would,” Rodoc said, grinning widely.
Morlon grimaced. “That would not be recommended. Adam Cain is extremely dangerous.”
Rodoc smiled and cocked his head. “You wish to save him for yourself, is this not true?”
Morlon turned serious. “I have proven my combat skills, Master, as has the Human. It is not pride or ego with which I propose this immunity challenge, only common sense. Even in a controlled environment, the alien may prove…unpredictable. I would not want the Grand Master—or any Grand Master—to risk his life in such a challenge.”
Rodoc waved his hand. “Your words are convincing, yet I know you better than most, Morlon. Your concern for the Masters is noted, yet I know your true motivation. I will take your request under advisement. Now…get the Humans safely to Nuor. And find their ship. There have already been too many disappointments to date.”
An hour later, the comm screen flashed again. The Grand Master was still at his desk and was annoyed at this new disturbance. He had work to do.
It was Morlon again. This time his face was sullen and grave, not animated like before.
Rodoc spoke before the Cadre officer. “Adam Cain has escaped,” he stated, almost with humor.
“That is correct, Master.”
“Is the Grand Master dead?”
Morlon eyes grew wide. “No. He was still in the building when the escape took place. The Humans were assisted by the natives.”
This information intrigued Rodoc. “In such a short time, aliens to our galaxy were able to elicit the assistance of the natives, even at the risk of their own wellbeing? I find that fascinating.”
“All the facts are not in.”
“And the prototype vessel?”
“It appeared in the local city and took the Humans away. We have no track on the vessel.”
Rodoc let out a deep sigh. “Then it is time to implement your plan to trap the vessel. There is no option. It will appear at the transit point, whether we want it to or not. There should be a strategy in place when it does.”
“Yes, Master. I will begin immediately setting up the scenario.”
“And Morlon?” The cold intensity in the voice of the Grand Master made Morlon freeze. “There have been far too many miscalculations with the Humans. And now you are lighting the path for them to our most important facility. I only hope you take the proper precautions, because if you fail, I will not be able to protect you from the consequences.”
Morlon stared back at his leader. He wasn’t afraid, only insulted that his skills were being questioned. “I understand, Master. But if I fail, my fate will be deserved.”
“Remember that, Morlon…if that time ever comes.”
101
“It does not
go in that way!” Jym exclaimed. “The ports face to the side and connect with these attachments.”
Copernicus shook his head. “You don’t know what these ports are for, so how can you know?”
“It makes sense. These are transmission lines. They must be connected to a reference device.”
“I really wish the two of you would stop arguing,” Adam said. Jym and Copernicus were stuck in an opening under the nav console trying to install the computer they’d gotten from Kies. It barely fit under the station, and the connectors had to be cut and replaced to mate with those of the Najmah Fayd. Adam knew both of his friends were wrong; neither knew what the connections did until they were hooked up, which was turning out to be into an agonizingly long process.
“With all your mutant genius, we could really use some help,” Copernicus barked.
The barrage of mutant-this and mutant-that had been non-stop since the Najmah Fayd jumped into space after leaving Bancc-Bin. They hopped six light-years away, and since then had been cruising along on standard gravity drive. Sherri was at the comm station doing her best to bring in local broadcasts, searching for any word about their escape or the region-wide search underway for the trans-dimensional starship. As was always the case, acquiring the advanced technology of the Najmah Fayd had taken precedence over the capture of the crew, and somewhere in the vastness of space, hundreds of enemy ships were on the hunt.
Adam had scanned the data manuals for the nav system aboard the ship, learning all the intricate details of how it worked. His mutant abilities helped, and now he had superior recall of the details. That’s why he was just about to take over the install process, rather than let Jym and Copernicus continue to screw things up.
“Jym’s right, Coop,” he said. “The unit follows a logical in-out configuration. But, Jym, the ports on that side are for the input, not the output. Flip it around. Try that and see if it lights up.”
“But that….” Jym studied the three-foot-square box. “Oh, I see. Yes, let us try that, Copernicus.”
“You mean he’s right?”
“Possibly,” Jym scowled. “He will be even more insufferable than before if this works.”
A moment later, the lights on the module flashed on and the screen embedded above the nav console came to life.
“See,” Adam said with pride.
“You scare me, Cain,” Copernicus said, no humor in voice.
Adam slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Coop, I scare myself sometimes too.”
Jym and Copernicus extricated themselves from under the console, with Jym slipping into the main seat to begin working his magic. Jym had been raised in spaceships, having accompanied his mechanic birth-father on his assignments, beginning at seven years of age—in Fulquin years. He took to the intricacies of starship systems with uncanny skill, and his small size allowed him to move within the tight confines with ease. Now his stubby, fur-covered fingers danced over the input board, searching data files for the information he needed. Within seconds he was able to bring up a schematic of the major star systems for this section of the Andromeda galaxy.
“There it is—Nuor,” he announced proudly. All the crew gathered around. Jym punched a few more buttons and a distance measurement appeared on the screen: five thousand six light-years from their present location. Within an area of competing gravity sources, the Najmah Fayd was restricted to TD jumps of about six hundred light-years at a time. With recharge times, they could be there in less than a day.
And then what?
Adam leaned back against the command chair. “Anything about the location of the transit points for the LP stations?”
“Not on here,” Jym said. “That is not something I would assume to be public knowledge.”
Riyad cleared his throat. “Adam, you once proposed to wring the information out of some high-ranking Nuorean,” he pointed out. “Is that still an option? Please say it’s still an option.”
Adam laughed. “That’s always an option, if not for information, then for sport. A guy has to have his hobbies.”
“There’s a lot of broadcast chatter,” Sherri said. “It’s a jumble, but we may be able to pick up something.”
“Again, I do not believe they would be speaking publicly about this subject,” Jym reiterated.
Kaylor raised a hand for attention. “The transit zones we are looking for are old and well-established, and as pointed out before, stationary. The LP-6 transit zones keep changing, as the Nuorean switch the landing points in our galaxy. But the others are more like roadways to distant stations that must be serviced on a continual basis. And with no apparent enemies in their galaxy, the Nuoreans would see no need to keep these locations secret.”
Jym grunted. He hated to be contradicted, even by his oldest friend.
“Sherri, have the comm record all the chatter,” Adam ordered. “Then set up an algorithm to search for any references to LP stations, transit points, zones—or whatever they call them. Hopefully something will show up.”
Sherri stared at him with her wide, blue eyes. “And exactly how do I do that? I’m not a computer expert, but I assume you are…now.”
Jym placed a furry hand on Sherri’s arm. “It is not that difficult, really. I will assist you.”
Adam smiled back at Sherri. “See, even Jym can do it.”
That last statement didn’t go over very well with his little furry friend.
“We should not go much closer until we have a better idea where we are going,” Kaylor said over his shoulder to Adam sitting in the command chair. “Traffic is building. I suggest we remain hidden here until…well, until it is time not to stay hidden.”
“Good idea,” Adam said wryly.
The team had taken a leisurely tack on their way to Nuor yet were frustrated at the lack of progress in identifying any of the elusive transit zones. Only Jym seemed pleased with the outcome; it would prove he’d been right all along. Now they were only four hundred light-years from the Nuorean homeworld, cloistered in a violent triple star system that looked ready to blow at any moment. They’d chosen the location because most of the other space traffic in the area was avoiding the system like the plague. Kaylor kept the trans-dimensional jump batteries charged and ready, with his finger never too far from the launch button—just in case the locals knew something he didn’t.
“All this electromagnetic interference isn’t helping with the comm chatter,” Sherri griped. “We’re closer to Nuor but only receiving about…. Wait!”
Her comm screen had just begun displaying streams of Nuorean writing. She slapped the console with her right hand. “Dammit Jym, did you set this thing to display notices in Nuorean?”
Jym scurried over to her. “I apologize. I did not set a preference. This must be a default, displaying in the native language.”
“That’s okay,” Adam said as he lifted out of his chair and went to Sherri’s station.
She looked up at him with utter disgust. “Don’t tell me you can read Nuorean now? This is getting ridiculous.”
Adam dismissed her sarcasm as just one more case of mutant-envy. For days now, most—make that all—of the crew had been experiencing the illness to one degree or another. He wished he could share the wealth, but he only had a limited number of mutant brain cells…and he was keeping all those for himself.
“I tapped into the translation program a few days ago. Let me take a look.”
Station chairs were affixed to a sliding rail in the deck. Sherri pushed her chair to the side but didn’t surrender it to Adam. She would make him stand as he read the message.
Adam pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, while placing his right hand on his chin in ‘Thinker-like’ fashion. “Well, let’s see. Uh-huh, very good. Yes, definitely,” he mumbled as he read.
“You pompous ass,” Sherri grumbled.
“Now children, let’s not get personal.” He stood up straight to make his report. “Multiple references to LP transit zones, announcing some kind of ann
iversary celebration commemorating the date of the initial completion of LP-1.”
“Does it say where, and any mention of LP-5?” Riyad asked.
“It mentions LP-5, but no specific location. It seems this should be common knowledge to all who are interested.”
“Look! I have something on the nav board!” Jym yelled, prompting a wholesale shift in the crew across the bridge to where the tiny bear sat. Jym pointed. “See these faint red spots, they were not there before.”
Jym was indicating five slowly pulsating dots, all in a line and radiating out from Nuor. “These are transmission beacons, now activated. As I said, they had not been active before.”
“They turned them on to show their people where the celebrations will be held?” Kaylor asked.
“Or they turned them on to let us know where they are,” Copernicus suggested.
“It does seem a little coincidental,” Adam said. “The Nuoreans are master strategists. They probably figured out our endgame the moment we showed up in Andromeda.”
“Now they’re inviting us to take a run at LP-5,” Riyad said.
“Why would they do that?” Jym asked.
“Because they’ve been stymied at every attempt to find the Najmah Fayd, so why not set a trap and see who walks in?”
“They would do this only if they believe their plan will succeed,” Riyad added. “Otherwise they’re opening up the front door for us. They’re not that stupid, but they expect us to be.”
Adam studied the screen for a moment. The dots were in a line, but which one was LP-5? He considered how the build-out would have progressed. Once the smaller, hopscotch stations were built, they would be essentially shut down as new ones came online. The last one—the one servicing LP-6 and the link with the Milky Way—would be the second most-important station and the one getting the most standard traffic, tasked with keeping the midpoint generators maintained and the station manned. It would make sense from a long-range perspective that this last station would be the closest to the main population center and supply lines. He focused his attention on the dot closest to Nuor. It was actually within the system, placed between two of the ubiquitous gas giants nearly all systems had.
