by T. R. Harris
“Ah…there, I’m in.” Adam turned to his friends. “I have just hacked into their controls.”
“Can you stop the launch?” Riyad asked.
“I don’t want to. Instead….” He turned back to the board and typed some more before shifting the screen display to a graphic of the LP-6 complex, including the space station. Slowly, a small round circle came on the screen and began to move toward the station.
“Remember, these transit lines can transport two-thousand-ship fleets at a time,” Adam said. “So why can’t they also transport a space station?
A moment later, the rest of the team was hovering over his shoulder, watching the red circle move closer, until the space station was just inside the line.
“Is that the TZ for LP-5?” Sherri asked.
“It will be…as soon as I give the order. I don’t want to change anything until I know the gray techies can’t change them back.”
The LP-5 transit zone covered an area of two hundred thousand miles, which was a little less than the distance between the Earth and the Moon—LP-6, had twice that volume because of its larger generators. Adam had to be careful not to move the TZ too close to the midpoint generator complex otherwise it would affect the aim, or possibly even damage the inner workings. Adam wanted to make sure LP-6 lit off on time.
Sherri made contact with Kaylor through her throat mic and let the aliens know what was going on. They had been climbing the walls as the clock ticked down, thinking their chance of survival was ticking down as well.
“Get ready everyone,” Adam said. “Ten seconds before I take over…fifteen to jump. Six…five…four….
When Adam commandeered the generator alignment controls for LP-5 dozens of attitude jets fired off, making the almost infinitesimal change required to move the TZ to the space station. The distance the transit zone had to move was only half a million miles. It took only a shift of three-quarters of an inch to make that happen.
The generators fired the moment the TZ shifted.
112
The space station disappeared from the region around the LP-6 generator complex and reappeared a split second later half a million miles from the original transit zone within the Nuorean system. Sherri had been right. There were thirty additional warships ready to make the jump. Now their captains were scratching their heads wondering what went wrong?
They weren’t the only ones.
Grand Master Rodoc (1,402) Kallen-Noc had been kept abreast of the events taking place at LP-6. He had open wormhole comms with the generator complex as well as the ships on station, even after contact was lost with the space station. He knew Morlon (783) had disabled the alignment controls for the generators and then returned to the station. He hadn’t been heard from since.
As the time drew closer for the two LPs to activate, Rodoc moved a monitor tech into his estate and set up the equipment in his office. He knew Adam Cain was in the station, and with a combination of nervous energy and game tension, the Grand Master was anxious to see what the Human would do next.
The fact that Cain and his team were at LP-6 was a testament to their tenacious skill, as well as Morlon’s many failures. If the Human was able to disrupt the operation of the midpoint generator complex, then Rodoc could do—would do—nothing to protect the Cadre officer. Even in Nuorean culture, losing had consequences, beyond loss of points and possessions. Someone in Morlon’s position was also subject to punitive actions, as determined by the GMs.
For now, the verdict was still out. LP-5 would set off any second from now, with LP-6 forty-nine minutes later. This session was coming to an end, and the score was still in question.
“LP-5 has launched, Master Rodoc,” the tech informed him.
Rodoc came into the room, stepping through the open double doors from the wide balcony that wrapped the entire western face of his estate, overlooking the tranquil, azure sea. He looked over the tech’s shoulder at the large screen set on a table across from his desk. The monitor had a graphic representation of the transit zone for LP-5 within the system, three billion miles from Nuor. Rodoc was sending additional ships to LP-6, still holding out hope that he could capture the teleportation starship of the Humans.
He would know better once he learned whether or not the Humans had made the LP-5 transit.
The two Nuoreans stared at the screen in silence, knowing something wasn’t right.
“Check the time again,” Rodoc ordered.
“It is correct,” answered the tech. “And there is confirmation of the pulse taking place.”
“So why are my ships still there?”
Comms began to come through from various sources throughout the Nuorean system. The tech tried to correlate them for the Grand Master yet there were too many arriving at once.
“What’s happening?” Rodoc asked with impatience and frustration.
“The transit zone…it has shifted,” said the tech. “It is now near Lios, half a million miles from its last location.”
“It shifted? How is that possible?”
The LP-5 transit zone had never shifted, not since the complex had been completed forty cycles ago. It was a permanent presence in the system, the gateway to LP-6 and the Kac galaxy.
“Who authorized the realignment of the generators?”
“Reports are coming from the station. The computers were taken over by an outside source…originating from LP-6.”
Rodoc stepped back and bit his bottom lip in anger. Adam Cain. It had to be Adam Cain. Yet how had the alien acquired such ability? With each new revelation and every setback, it became apparent they had all underestimated the Human and his team. The invaders from the Kac had accomplished far too much against the obstacles placed before them. Even for a Jundac race, this was contrary to all the data the Nuoreans had on the Humans.
“Master, the LP-6 command station—it is in the transit zone…the new transit zone!”
“Clarify.”
“The space station, it has been transported here.”
The tech worked the controls and a live image of the new LP-5 transit zone appeared on the screen. There was a tiny white dot in the center, and as the Cadre One specialist manipulated his board, the image grew larger.
It was indeed the LP-6 space station, resting one-and-a-half-million light-cycles from where it should be. Reports were also coming in that nineteen of the warships in the vicinity of the station had also been transported back to the Nuorean system. This was good. It would save Rodoc time sending units in to secure the station.
Yet where were the Humans? The last information Rodoc received from LP-6 had the prototype vessel returning to the station after a brief run to the generators. Still, no bombs had been detected at the complex, so the purpose of the journey was unknown.
Rodoc smiled as the truth came to him, and he sent a small nod toward the screen, an acknowledgement to Adam Cain.
Realizing they couldn’t make the transit zone for LP-5 in time, Cain simply shifted it to the station. It was a brilliant move, and once more established the playing credentials of the Human. Although the move allowed him to transition back to the Suponac, he was still six thousand light-cycles from the LP-6 staging area, and with only forty-nine minutes to get there.
Rodoc wondered if Cain had discovered his homeworld was the target of the next LP-6 gravity pulse? He couldn’t imagine how that would have been possible. Or has the Human surrendered his plan to return to the Kac? Maybe he was acknowledging his defeat and looking now for a place to hide within the Suponac? The questions were many, the answers few.
From previous analysis, the teleportation and gravity-drives of the prototype vessel would be inoperable for a short period after transit. That was why the Humans had not shown themselves. But they would.
“Open a link with the senior commander of the units on station,” Rodoc ordered.
“Yes, Master.”
A moment later the image of an older Nuorean in a gray uniform came on the screen.
“Le
ad-Player,” Rodoc began, “the Humans are aboard the station and will attempt to leave the system in approximately ten minutes. Do not destroy the ship when it exits the station.”
“Master?”
“With the LP-6 generator complex secure, there is no need to destroy the vessel. It employs a revolutionary type of teleportation drive that would prove valuable to our cause. Track the vessel, and only engage if there is confidence of its capture. Is that understood?”
“Of course, Master Rodoc. Your orders will be followed.”
The tech cut the line and returned to the screen to the overview of the transit zone.
Rodoc checked the time. Then he smiled. For all the success the Humans have experienced in the Suponac, they really hadn’t accomplished much. LP-6 was still operational, the planet Earth was about to destroyed, and the Nuoreans still roamed the Kac. In consideration of all that, Rodoc (1,402) may have to amend his impression of Adam Cain.
“The Humans have left the station, Master!” the tech announced.
Finally.
It had been far too long beyond the time required to recharge their drives—and still the Humans remained cloistered within the station. Out of frustration, Rodoc had stepped out on the balcony. He spent most of his time there, mesmerized by the constantly shifting surface of the ocean. It was soothing.
But now the Humans have left the space station, with only five minutes remaining before the LP-6 transit.
Rodoc came back to the tech. “Report.”
“The ship is moving away on chemical drive.”
“Maintain tracking. It is unclear whether they travel in a straight line or can change course during a teleportation event. Alert our stations in the sub-worlds and production systems. I cannot believe they are still attempting to make the LP-6 staging area, not unless the teleportation drive has the required range.”
“They have established a course, Master, yet it is not out-system. They are lined up on Nuor.”
Rodoc studied the screen. Just then, the Humans engaged a weak, sub-light drive.
What was Cain proposing? Did he intend to make a desperate attack on Rodoc’s estate, a final blow at the end of a losing game? How would he even know of Rodoc and the location of his estate? Even so, the Grand Master would not underestimate the Human.
“Activate the property shields,” he said to the tech. “And place a screen of ships above.”
“Master—the ship has disappeared!”
Rodoc relaxed. Cain was now acting according to expectations—
“It has reappeared,” the tech reported.
Rodoc saw the contact dot on the screen. “Where is that?”
The aspect of the screen adjusted, and the crescent shape of a portion of the planet Nuor appeared. Rodoc’s heart skipped a beat. Cain is intending to attack.
“The ship is maintaining a stationary position. It is moving no closer.”
“Relative to Nuor?”
“No, Master, relative to a point in space, fourteen hundred miles from the surface.”
A moment of profound denial swept through the Grand Master, as an impossible thought came to mind. However, he didn’t have time to contemplate the possibility beyond its initial impression—before a massive seismic quake struck the estate.
Columns crumbled and ceilings crashed, as a huge crack opened along Rodoc’s precious balcony. Half the structure fell away, dropping into the now-roiling sea below. Rodoc and the tech were thrown to the floor, all the monitoring equipment with them. And the shaking continued—in fact it grew more intense by the second.
Just then, a horrific wind erupted without warning, swirling through the building and into the sky above the ocean. Rodoc crawled outside, onto what remained of his balcony. What he saw was both frightening…and familiar.
He gasped as he saw the impossibly long spiral of white and gray atmosphere reaching into the sky, culminating at a distance point. The sea was a chaotic mass of hundred-foot waves topped with frothing foam, also being drawn into the vortex. Trees on the nearby hills were being ripped out of the ground—land which followed a moment later in the form of huge chucks of black soil racing into space. The roof of the building lifted away, revealing more of the apocalyptic vision filling the sky.
Rodoc knew what was happening; he’d seen it before, through images of a distant, uninhabited world a thousand light-cycles away. But this was happening to Nuor.
Just before Rodoc (1,401) Kallen-Noc was sucked away into space, he spoke his final words into the deafening cries of a dying world: “Well played, Adam Cain. Well played.”
113
A moment later…they were home.
Even though they had no idea where they were, the blazing star located only a few million miles away was welcoming and with a familiar feeling. Adam breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing a huge yellow star this close meant there had been the possibility they could have materialized inside the ball of fusing hydrogen gas. But they were lucky.
They were back in the Milky Way, safe and—
Jym’s ear-piercing scream rang throughout the bridge. “Behind us! Oh the Gods of Fulquin!”
A view from the aft camera appeared on the main view screen. At first it was hard to comprehend what they saw. It was a brown and white ruddy mass, resembling a dull-colored nebula, growing in size behind them. But then individual features within the cloud could be made out as they came closer. It was rock, mixed in with frozen atmosphere and ice. And each piece was the size of a mountain…or a continent.
“Get us out of here!” Copernicus yelled.
Adam was a heartbeat ahead of him.
He activated the chemical drive—the only propulsion source he had for the next ten minutes—and the ship took off from a dead stop. He shifted between the aft nozzles—for acceleration—and the starboard side jet—for course correction. It was a losing tradeoff. Looking at his monitor, Adam saw that the debris cloud was moving faster than the chem drive could push them. They couldn’t outrun it, so Adam had to move them out of the path before it was too late.
Yet this was different than trying to avoid a relatively small cloud of ball bearings. This was the mass equal to half a planet filling the space behind them. And the huge remnants were constantly crashing into one another, altering course and shattering large pieces into millions of smaller chunks. The cloud was expanding. Nothing within a one-eighty-degree circular arc was safe.
Adam Cain—semi-mutant—was doing all he could to avoid the vengeful remains of the planet Nuor, but even he had his limits. The Najmah Fayd was being pummeled by the smaller bits, the only saving grace being the fact that most of the debris was heading in the same direction they were, which lessened the force when they hit.
“To your right, Adam!” Sherri yelled.
Adam checked his screen, having trouble at first comprehending what he saw. It looked to be a hundred-mile-long rectangular slice of frozen ocean, tumbling slowly as it flew through space.
Adam had an idea.
He shifted course slightly, moving closer to the huge slab.
“What are you doing?” Sherri asked. “I told you about the giant sheet of ice so you could avoid it, not head straight for it.”
“We need something to protect us. Besides, I’ve always loved the ocean.”
“Me, too, stupid, but not in the form of a humongous iceberg in space.”
Adam concentrated on the rendezvous. The slab was moving up on them rapidly. He knew they couldn’t match its speed, but he might be able to lessen the impact if he made contact when part of the slab was rotating away from them.
The crew gasped as the object drew closer, awed and frightened by the massive size of the frozen slice of Nuorean ocean. One side was impossibly smooth and slick, having sheared off from another piece. The other side—the side they were heading for—was a frozen relief of a roiling surface, with hundred-foot high waves caught in mid-crest.
Even at full power, the icy surface was racing toward them at incredible spee
d, and when they made contact, the impact was like hitting a brick wall at forty miles per hour. The hull compressed and screamed yet managed to stay together. Why that was possible? The answer came a split second later.
The slow rotation of the slab had the Najmah Fayd sliding along the surface, which helped lessen the force of the impact. But it also caused another problem. This was the side with the stormy ocean relief, and a few seconds after making contact, the ship slipped up the tall slope of a cresting wave—and flew off into space like a ski-jumper off a ninety-meter ramp.
The ship flipped several times as Adam fought with the attitude jets to correct the orientation. The other end of the ice slab then rose up to meet them. The Najmah Fayd was flipped over at the time, and hit the ice from the top, crushing every antenna and monitor they had except for a few cameras set in recessed cans in the hull. Bridge screens went dark.
“This is supposed to be better?” Sherri screamed.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time!” Adam yelled back.
His idea to ride the slowly tumbling slab of ice became moot a few moments later, when once again they were hurled into space. This time they made it clear of the huge iceberg. Adam activated the chemical drive again and raced away once more into the maelstrom.
Well, Adam thought. That didn’t work.
And that’s when the chemical drive sputtered and shut down.
Adam shook his head, thinking of all the time for this to happen, why now? But he knew it was inevitable. Now all he had were the attitude jets…at least for another four minutes—
Something large, hard and fast struck the Najmah Fayd amidships. The speed of the impact was such that ship barely reacted to the collision. Internal gravity died, along with just about everything else. The previously-repaired bridge crack reopened, but only a little—however, it was wide enough to allow atmosphere to race through the opening. Riyad was the closest to the breach. He took off his outer shirt and threw it at the opening. The stream of escaping air guided it through the zero-g, until the cloth hit the bulkhead and sealed the crack, at least most of it.
