by T. R. Harris
If all these factors came to fruition, the Humans would consider their mission a success.
Now Morlon had to think of obstacles and countermeasures to make sure their mission failed.
The fact that Cain was unaware the generators were now aimed at his homeworld made little difference at this point. That would come as a surprise. And add to that, the new transit zone for LP-6 was not within a thousand light-cycles of Nuor, but rather over six thousand inside the galaxy, dictated by the target at the opposite end of the transit line—the planet Earth.
Could Cain set his bombs, transition back to the Suponac, and travel six thousand light-cycles to the transit zone in—Morlon checked the time again in his personal watch—a little over fifteen hours? Highly unlikely…but not impossible.
If faced with this scenario, would the Human choose suicide over complete victory? The Nuoreans long understood the concept as a viable means of achieving a goal, yet they did not respect it. Sacrificing one’s life in a losing cause was not the way of the skilled player. The strategy was taught in school, but not widely practiced.
Morlon considered what Cain would do knowing his world was about to be destroyed? He would surely seek to either destroy the generators or change their focus. By diverting the aim, the Earth would be saved and the Humans would still have an opportunity to make it back to the Kac. This would be their preferred option over suicide.
Yet if Cain couldn’t shift the focus, then he would certainly hasten the destruction of LP-6, even if it meant being trapped in the Suponac for the rest of their short lives.
So Morlon’s next challenge became: Stop Cain from changing the aim of the generators, which he would attempt to do before choosing suicide as the last resort.
The fifteen hundred miles of generator complex was controlled from the space station. Hundreds of maneuvering jets could change the alignment by fractions of a degree or by miles if necessary. Morlon could disable the controls aboard the station, but there would always be the possibility Cain could find ways around that. The only sure way was to destroy the link between the station and the generators. Morlon was not a technician, but he knew there was a control room in the Io-Generator—the number one generator—where all comms were centered. He would break the link there…as well as on the station. He would build challenge upon challenge in an effort to confound his worthy adversary.
Following his thinking further, Morlon next had to figure a way to stop Cain from destroying the complex prematurely—as a last resort. To do this, Morlon would have to stop any explosives from being set or disarming any that were. Although the Humans had never seen the midpoint generators, they had to imagine they were of incredible size and come prepared for the challenge. This would involve the use of either nuclear or even gravitational bombs. Morlon had no idea how hardened the generator facilities were, or whether the builders had even considered the possibility of sabotage? Would one bomb set off a chain reaction that could destroy the entire complex? He would investigate this question further when he made his journey to the Io-Generator.
That’s when Morlon laughed. All his careful planning and strategizing would become moot if he could hold off Cain for another fifteen hours. There may be some follow-up damage done to the facility, but the fate of Earth would be sealed.
After that, if Adam Cain wished to visit his homeworld, all he would have to do is travel six thousand light-cycles to find the shattered half of his world that had been transported to the Suponac. If that fantasy ever came to pass, Morlon hoped he could play host. It would be immensely satisfying to see the look on the Human’s face.
He got up from the bed, straightened his uniform and then set out for the main launch bay for the space station. He would personally inspect the generator control room and remove the comm link. He also wanted to get a feel for the security measures in place on and within the huge complex.
He checked his watch again. Fourteen hours, forty-eight minutes.
Morlon had to admit he would be disappointed if Cain didn’t show up on schedule. He so wanted to meet this particular Human.
107
It was Riyad’s turn at the nav computer, and when he coughed and cleared his throat, everyone on the bridge got the message.
“You know that fleet that was chasing us a couple of hours ago? Well I found it.” The main screen lit up, showing a long solid object next to a much smaller round contact. And intermingled between and around the two objects was a minefield of contacts classified as enemy warships. There were more than forty—the strength of the contingent at the transit zone. A quick computer count placed the number at sixty-one, plus a dozen small shuttles zipping between the major structures.
“Looks like someone is serious about keeping us out of their playground,” Coop said.
Adam was in the pilot seat, crunching numbers for the next jump of the Najmah Fayd. In a normal situation, he would accelerate the ship to a respectable velocity outside the range of the enemy ship’s sensors and then go dark, coasting in without being detected. But the maneuvering wells and chem drive couldn’t get them going fast enough. In addition, it was almost impossible to go dark with a TD charge building up for the next hop. The aliens knew they were coming and there was no subtle way to make the approach without being seen.
Another complication: Adam needed to learn the current TZ for LP-6 in the Andromeda galaxy. Assuming they could place the charges—and they weren’t disarmed—they needed to know the way back home and the quickest way to get there. That meant boarding the space station and wringing the truth out of the aliens. Riyad was chomping at the bit for a little Human-on-alien action, and whole-heartedly volunteered for the duty. That was normally Adam’s job, however, so he denied the request. Besides, Riyad had another task to perform.
Fortunately, most of the Nuoreans ships weren’t coming out to meet them. They were content to form a screen around their precious LP-6 complex and shoot anything that came in range.
“That’s a damn big station,” Sherri pointed out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a thousand or more crew aboard. That’s a lot of heads to bash. And that’s after we get past the starships.”
The chronometer on the bulkhead had been reset to count the hours until the next pulse through LP-6. A smaller clock was mounted below it that showed the time to LP-5’s next transit. Although the launch points operated on different recharge schedules, they were nearly synced up for their next shots. LP-5 was four hours fifty-two minutes away; with LP-6 at five hours forty-one minutes. Theoretically, this was a near-perfect scenario for the team. They could set the bombs and pass back through to Nuor in just under five hours, followed by a TD jump to the LP-6 transit zone and the pulse back to the Milky Way forty-nine minutes later.
And then the bombs would go off.
Mission accomplished.
That was assuming no one tried to mess with their time-table….
Time-tables would be studied later. For now, the crew was distracted by the long, thin tube floating in the void between galaxies. The white line on the screen was deceptive, until numbers began to appear next to the object.
“Am I seeing that right?” Copernicus asked. “Almost fifteen hundred miles? That thing is that long?”
“Yeah, that’s what she said,” Riyad joked.
Kaylor didn’t get the ribald humor and continued in a more serious vein. “The Klin Colony Ships are twenty miles in diameter,” Kaylor pointed out. “And they are the largest objects ever built in space—until now.”
“And how many nukes do we have onboard—six?” Coop said, answering his own question.
“Relax people,” Adam said. “We don’t have to blow up the whole thing, just enough to put it out of commission. I’m sure something that big and complicated is also very delicate. Half a dozen nukes going off on the surface should do the job.”
“And nuclear devices do have a wider range in space than they do within an atmosphere,” Jym added, wanting in on the conversation.
They wouldn’t survive another three days, not with a broken ship and nowhere to hide.
Adam looked over at Copernicus and Riyad. “You guys ready?”
Riyad snorted. “When is a guy ever ready to hop aboard an open-air flitter with three atom bombs strapped to his back and travel seventeen thousand miles through alien-infested space to reach the largest damn gravity generator he’d ever seen?”
“Well, consider yourself lucky,” Adam said. “You don’t have to run a gauntlet of sixty deadly warships, only to force your way into an alien-invested space station, and hope they let you stay and gain access to their most sensitive data files.”
Riyad considered Adam’s words for a moment. “Yeah, you win. I think I’d rather take my chances in outer space.”
Adam tapped his console. “Well then, let’s get started. The damn generator complex isn’t going to blow itself up.”
Contrary to popular belief, there had been some advance planning done before Adam and his crew embarked on their mission. Knowing that they would have to pass back through the midpoint generator before blowing it up, the brains back on Earth came up with what they thought was a brilliant plan. Their theory was about to be put to the test.
Adam and the team assembled in the small launch bay of the Najmah Fayd, where they stood staring at the two small vehicles that resembled over-sized jet-skis more than spaceships. These were PAVs—Personal Assault Vehicles—one-man rocket ships designed to avoid enemy contact and reach a target in space as far a hundred thousand miles away. Riyad and Copernicus each had one, and they would strap in and lean forward, while the tiny speeders zipped through space on a combination of compressed gas and minimal chem drive. The goal was to produce the lowest detection profile possible—both from the small size and minimal exhaust. They could reach speeds of ten thousand miles per hour or more in the vacuum of space, while leaving barely a trace.
Adam actually envied his two friends. He imagined it would be a blast riding one of these things. And he would have been right—if it wasn’t for the presence of the two, eight-foot-long tubular-shaped objects strapped to each side, with a third attached underneath.
These were the SENOs—Specially-Enhanced Nuclear Devices—with each having an effective yield of seventy-five megatons. Riyad would take his nukes to one of the huge generators; Copernicus to the other. Adam had seen a lot of exotic weapons in his day—both Human and alien—yet he was still amazed that such destructive power could be contained in such a small package.
Before setting out on the mission, it was assumed there would be opposition in place trying to stop them. That’s why this approach was chosen. However, it was hoped that huge structures in space, guarded by faster-than-light starships, would also assume any assault on the complex would be grand in scope and execution. The small—almost microscopic by space dimensions—PAVs could pass through any defensive screen. At least that was the plan.
They were about to find out.
Riyad and Coop were in specially-designed spacesuits which would integrate with the tiny spaceships, providing extended oxygen supply, along with a whole array of heads-up displays to help carry out the mission. Contrary to Riyad’s earlier pronouncement, he was anxious to hop aboard and get things going.
Jym stepped up to the first PAV, looking small and insignificant next to the vehicle. “I have programmed the guidance systems with the location of all targets. Automation should provide a reliable track to the generators while avoiding the defenses. Once on site, you will take over individual control to place the bomb locations.”
The two Humans climbed aboard their respective machines. Automatically, securing clamps closed on their legs and torsos, while life-support connections were secured. Thrust and guidance controls were placed on a pair of traditional-looking handlebars, which only added to the jet-ski-like resemblance. The men were now lying prone on the vehicles, with all systems green.
The generators were located seventeen thousand miles away, which meant it would take just under two hours to reach them, factoring in deceleration time. To meet the LP-5 transit pulse, Riyad and Copernicus could remain on station for no more than fifteen minutes before having to leave for the space station, five thousand miles from the generator complex. Hopefully by then, Adam, Sherri and the two aliens would have the information they needed—namely the location of the LP-6 transit zone—after which the team would make a timely retreat to the LP-5 TZ for the trip back to Andromeda.
It looked good on paper. Reality could be a whole different animal.
All those not leaving for the generator complex exited the launch bay and the chamber was opened to the vacuum of space. Riyad gave a thumbs-up just before gripping the control handle. On tiny jets of air, his PAV moved gingerly out the back of the Najmah Fayd, followed closely by Copernicus. Once a few hundred yards from the ship, each man engaged their engines—and at a pace designed not to kill the Human passengers—each PAV accelerated away at incredible velocity.
The Najmah Fayd disappeared almost instantly on Riyad’s screen. The g-force was noticeable, but tolerable. He looked up, along his flight path, and could see nothing but the glowing ten-degree arc of white light that was the Andromeda Galaxy. There were a few individual stars showing up as single points of light between here and there. Space between galaxies wasn’t completely empty, with a few rogue stars drifting helplessly in the void, having escaped their mother galaxies in some far distant past.
The acceleration continued, adding weight to Riyad’s body, until reaching terminal velocity when weightlessness returned. They couldn’t continue to accelerate all the way to the generator complex; that would require a deadly deceleration at the other end of the journey. Instead, halfway to his destination, he would turn the PAV and begin slowing down.
Just then, he felt a shift in his inertia as the vessel changed course slightly. It changed back a moment later, apparently moving to avoid an unseen target. Riyad looked at the glowing screen in front of his face. The range was set to a much narrower field than a normal threat board, but still it showed two contacts, identified as Nuorean battlecruisers. He moved to within a thousand miles of each before reaching clear space again.
Again, Riyad looked up and round at the vast emptiness of space. He had no sensation of movement; this wasn’t like shredding a lake with radical spins or feeling the rush of ocean spray on his face like he’d experience on a terrestrial jet-ski. In fact, so far the trip was a letdown.
He could see the generator complex on his screen now, growing larger and brighter as a contact. He settled into the monotony of the voyage, knowing the peaceful interlude would be short-lived.
But so far…the plan was working.
108
Adam was finished with his calculations. In the back of his mind, he knew they were correct, even though confidence in his enhanced mental abilities was still lacking. Part of him didn’t trust the new Adam Cain, failing to understand the change taking place. The other tried to suppress the doubt. Only through constant checking and rechecking was he finally convinced his numbers were right.
Jym, however, wasn’t convinced.
“It is too precise,” the tiny alien stated. “I cannot see a favorable outcome if you continue along this path.”
“Trust me,” Adam said. “I’ve left a little wiggle room.”
“We could materialize inside the space station, not above it.”
“It doesn’t work like that—”
“I know! We would not fuse with the station,” Jym barked back. “But our volume would appear and force all other solid material away, resulting in a catastrophic explosion.�
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Adam tried to reason with the alien. “What would you do if Panur was making the jump? Would you protest as much?”
Jym’s mouth snapped shut. He was about to say something rude but thought better of it. The question had validity.
“I suppose I see your point. Yet you are not Panur—not yet.”
“And I never will be. But I’m close enough.”
Adam looked at Sherri at the weapons station. With Coop gone on his ride to the generators she got to play with all the neat stuff. Kaylor was in the co-pilot seat and Jym at nav. Adam was piloting, and moments away from making the most-technically challenging trans-dimensional jump of his life.
It had been decided there was no realistic way they could run the gauntlet of sixty-plus alien warships between here and the space station. The only solution was to hop over them. Adam had a target destination lined up two thousand feet above the top center of the circular-shaped station. If all went according to plan, they would pop in and then send out magnetic grapples to pull them to the outer surface of the station. From there, they would cut an air-tight access into the interior. Any defenders would think twice about firing on the ship for fear of damaging the station.
The only concern came from the fact that none of the apparently stationary objects—the space station, the generator complex, even the Najmah Fayd—were truly stationary. Each was moving through space, and all on slightly difference vectors and at varying velocities. With relative positions changing constantly, Adam’s jump calculations were too. That’s where a slice of mutant genius came in handy.
