The Andromeda Mission (The Human Chronicles Book 19)

by T. R. Harris

Rodoc stretched a thin smile across his face. “Then there is a possibility our problem has been solved. Our warship may have destroyed the alien vessel once arriving at their new destination.”

  “We would have received word by now if that had happened—”

  Rodoc waved his hand impatiently. “I wasn’t being serious, Morlon. I’m sure the aliens were quite prepared to deal with our craft, otherwise they would not have invaded the fleet. They showed an arrogant disregard for the risk they were undertaking.”

  “Unless they did not consider it a risk. The aliens—and I assume they must be Human—have experienced our technology and strategies for over a cycle now. I do not believe them to be stupid or reckless. They made this journey knowing with full knowledge as what to expect.”

  “And yet still they made it.” Rodoc turned back to the sea, resting his free hand on the railing. “Never in our history has an enemy taken such a bold action. Yes, long ago, fleets united against us, to no avail; however, this is a single ship on a singular mission.”

  “Those accepting death as a final result can be very hard to stop,” Morlon cautioned.

  “You believe this to be a mission of ultimate commitment?”

  “You know as well as I the chances for success, on any level. And to expect a safe return to the Kac as well? The Humans may be bold and brash, but they are not stupid or delusional.”

  Rodoc felt a welling up in his chest. He was growing excited with the conversation. This was what Nuoreans lived for, the challenge, the competition, and the greater the foe the better. Yes, the aliens may achieve their end goal—they could destroy LP-6. But the Nuoreans would simply rebuild the station, even if it took another two hundred cycles. Their society would not suffer. In the interim, they would draw more aliens from the Suponac Galaxy and place them in the arenas. Life would go on, even if immunity points would become scarcer.

  But now it was the technology of the alien ship that was the most intriguing to the Grand Master. How had they achieved such a breakthrough? And as was mentioned at the meeting, why was this technology—be it cloaking or teleportation—not being utilized within the Kac? If it had, the Nuor would have been driven out long ago. But Rodoc’s forces were still there. The logical conclusion was that the only working model of the teleportation device was within this single ship. And now it was in the Suponac.

  Morlon waited patiently for his Master to speak. Rodoc turned to him.

  “You admire these Humans, do you not Morlon?”

  “They produce results, even without trying. You have experienced that first-hand, Master.”

  ********

  Half a cycle ago, Rodoc went up against a Human in a challenge of opportunity, in his private arena and under the watchful eye of the Third Cadre.

  After the Cadre officer Azon (1,901) was nearly killed by one of the unskilled Humans brought to Nuor for study, the remaining four prisoners were given over to the Grand Masters so they could acquire first-hand experience with this enigmatic race from the Kac. The contests were held in secret, with the Third Cadre looking on for any sign of danger to their Masters.

  It had been four cycles since Rodoc had last met an opponent in the arena, although he still practiced every day, even at his age. The Human he selected was one with black skin, standing nearly as tall as the Grand Master. He was well-muscled and showed coordination when he moved. Morlon insisted on being at the contest, even though he’d lost the argument against such a challenge being held in the first place. It was too risky for the leader of the Nuorean race to undertake. Nevertheless, Morlon would guarantee the safety of his leader as best he could—or as much as Rodoc would allow him.

  The Human player was given a sword, but no shield. Even the Grand Master entered the ring absent a shield and no armor to speak of. He wore only a wrist guard on his sword arm.

  The contest began slowly, the Human scared and tentative. From his first steps and awkward swings, it was evident he had no prior training in this method of fighting. Yet even in this first feeling-out round, Rodoc experienced the power of the alien in the sword clashes. Humans come from a world with substantially higher gravity than Nuor. This made them stronger and faster. This advantage was expected and taken into account. Yet by itself, it would not be enough to overcome the skill and years of experience of the Grand Master.

  Rodoc toyed with the Human at first, allowing him to gain confidence the longer the contest continued. They took a break five minutes into the contest, during which the aging Nuorean recovered from the exertion. The Human showed no signs of fatigue, another benefit of the lighter gravity of Nuor.

  When the contest resumed, the Human displayed even more confidence. He seemed to ignore the imposing surroundings and the attendant Cadre guards, which numbered fifteen, each ready to act if needed. Even if the Human managed to kill the Grand Master, he would surely die, if then at the hands of the Third Cadre. On some level the Human ignored this reality and focused all his attention on the Grand Master. Live or die, he was going to put up the best fight possible.

  That’s when Rodoc discovered the sheer force of will of the Humans. They were much like the Nuor; winning was everything, even if only for the moment. The alien knew he was going to die, but he wanted to go out with a victory.

  The Human’s growing confidence ended up being his downfall. He knew he was stronger and faster than Rodoc, so he put all his focus on that, swinging wide and hard with his sword to wear down his opponent. Rodoc let him believe he was doing just that—which, of course he was; Rodoc was not a young Nuorean any longer. But there was more to swordplay than strength and endurance.

  At one point their swords met, with the Human driving Rodoc’s blade into the dusty soil of the arena. He held it in place with his superior strength, preventing Rodoc from lifting his weapon from the ground. Through the corner of his eye, Rodoc saw the Third Cadre guards begin to move in, but he wasn’t ready to surrender his victory to others.

  Instead of fighting against the Human’s superior strength to lift his sword, Rodoc simply slid it out towards him, freeing the blade. Then he spun, holding the blade out at arm’s length. The tip barely reached the Human, but it was enough to slice open the skin on the alien’s neck and left shoulder. The creature stumbled back, using his free hand in an attempt to stop the flow of blood gushing from the wound. It was to no avail.

  Like most creatures of advanced evolution, the brain was fed by a master artery. The one in the neck of the Human had been severed and was now pumping out streams of thick, red blood with each beat of the heart.

  Rodoc stood back—as did the Cadre guards—and watched the Human drop to his knees. His face was expressionless, his eyelids beginning to droop. Rodoc knew the alien was in shock and would be turning cold from the loss of blood. Moments later, the eyes closed completely and he toppled over to his left, the top layer of dirt absorbing the pool of blood as the flow subsided, until it was a mere trickle.

  On that day, Rodoc had met Morlon’s scolding look with understanding. Here was an untrained alien facing the most-skilled—at one time—player in the Nuorean race, and even though Rodoc could have ended the contest at any time, the Human had showed a remarkable ability to adapt to his surroundings. Swords were not the preferred weapon of his race, yet he took to it instinctively. Where he gained such insight was a mystery to both Rodoc and Morlon.

  However, the lesson was learned. Rodoc had met a Human and experienced their craftiness, strength and temperament. He catalogued the contest within his mind, along with the one thousand, four hundred, eighteen other challenges he had won over his playing career.

  From that moment on the Human race was declared Jundac—an alien species too dangerous for standard immunity challenges, perhaps too dangerous for any challenges. The Third Cadre—at the direction of Grand Master Rodoc—began devising plans for the eventual destruction of the Human’s homeworld—the planet Earth. The Human race was too dangerous to exist.

  Chapter 4

  Coper
nicus Smith flew between the bent and twisted girders that had once been the main superstructure of the dead Nuorean battlecruiser. The internal gravity wells of the Najmah Fayd had been shut down, allowing the three-person repair crew to operate in zero-g surrounding the vessel. Coop, Riyad and Kaylor each wore spacesuits with small maneuvering jet packs on their backs. They also carried laser cutters with power packs strapped around their waists.

  The damage to the Najmah Fayd wasn’t as bad as it first looked. Although the ship was buried deep into the broken beams of the much-larger spacecraft, only one of the redundant comm antennas had been torn off. This could have been serious—if they had anyone in this galaxy to communicate with. As it was, the surviving antenna would do fine.

  The Najmah Fayd was being held in place by five arching beams, resembling the rib cage of a blanched desert skeleton. These had to be cut through before they could escape. The team positioned themselves around the base of the first stanchion.

  “I’m worried about Adam,” Riyad said through the helmet comm.

  “How so?” Copernicus asked.

  “He seems to be saving our hides at an accelerated rate these days.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  A brilliant beam of light lit up the tangled mass of metal, wires and floating conduit tubes—along with a few frozen Nuoreans. Kaylor had set to work on the other side of the huge beam with this torch. Riyad ignited his and the pair began cutting through from opposite sides.

  “I’m jealous,” replied Riyad. “We used to share the glory. Now he’s hogging it all for himself.”

  “He’s always been like that,” Copernicus said. “Still, I know what you mean. He’s done some pretty nifty piloting recently. I still have the bruises to prove it.”

  “I could have done the same,” Kaylor countered over the comm line. “Opportunity is often the precursor to glory.”

  Riyad and Coop looked at each other through their faceplates and smiled. An alien with an inferiority complex.

  “I’m sure by the time this mission is over, you’ll have plenty of chances to be the hero, Kaylor,” Riyad said.

  “That is not what I meant. I was simply—”

  “That’s okay, my friend. At one time or another, we’ve all been overshadowed by the magnificence that is Adam Cain.”

  “You know I can hear you?” Adam said through the helmet speakers.

  Copernicus checked his comm controls. “How…we’re on a private link?”

  “You forget about my little gift from the Formilians,” Adam replied. “The ATD can pick up all nearby transmissions, as long as the equipment is controlled by their technology.”

  Riyad chuckled. “It was a compliment, my friend.”

  The first beam was cut, and the Copernicus helped guide it away before giving it a strong shove. The arching piece of metal—fifty-feet long—began to drift away. Kaylor was already at work on some of the smaller entanglements before moving onto the next huge beam. They had four more to cut away.

  “Hey, buddy, if you want command, you’ve got it,” Adam said. “I was enjoying a quiet nap when you came in and woke me up. Hey, do realize that was only three hours ago, and look how much progress we’ve already made.”

  “Progress?” said Copernicus. “We’ve been in four dust-ups with alien warships, made a two-point-five million light-year jump through space and time, and now find ourselves stuck inside the ribs of a dead alien spacecraft…and with no idea where the hell we are. We’ve made something all right, but I wouldn’t call it progress.”

  “Always highlighting the negative, Mister Smith,” Adam said. They could hear the smile in his voice. “You think you have it bad now? Just give it another day or so and you’ll have more context for all your bitching and moaning.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “I’m gonna sign-off now,” Adam said. “Your girlfriend and I have some navigatin’ to do, if you know what I mean?”

  “Just keep it above the sheets, Mister Cain.”

  “That’s Captain Cain to you.”

  ********

  Sherri shook her head. “What is it with you two?”

  “Just having a little fun with your new boy-toy,” Adam said. “Now…let’s find out where we are and where we’re going.” He leaned in closer to the nav screen.

  “And now you want to get serious?” Sherri said.

  “You heard the guys; they’re counting on me to save their asses—again. I don’t want to let them down.”

  The cold, steady stare of Sherri’s blue eyes made Adam flinch. He’d known her for twenty years and suspected by now she could read him like a book. He had to be careful. She would eventually learn his secret, but for now, he wanted to keep it to himself.

  “Six systems within ten light-years,” he said to distract her.

  Slowly…Sherri turned to look at the screen. “Yet only two have the right size of star and age to have planets that can support life as we know it. We’re going to have to move farther into the galaxy.”

  “The problem is we have no idea where Nuor’s located. If we’re not careful we could end up on the gray bastards front door.”

  Sherri flicked a switch on the console to open a link with the repair crew. She didn’t have an artificial telepathy device imbedded under her skin like Adam—at least not a working model. She had to communicate the old-fashioned way.

  “Any chance of finding the nav computer in the wreckage?” she asked.

  “Not a chance,” Coop answered. “The whole front of the ship—bridge included—got eaten by the singularity. We’re going to have to find another one somewhere else.”

  “Roger that,” Sherri said. Then meeting Adam’s eye with a glint: “Love you. Be careful out there…in space.”

  “Will do, sweetie.”

  “That was so…high school,” Adam grumbled, feeling an unwelcome tightening in his stomach. Over the past twenty years, Sherri had had relationships with all three of the men onboard, and Adam was pretty sure he wasn’t over her…not yet. But her current affair with Copernicus seemed to suit her. He wouldn’t do anything to interfere, so long as Coop didn’t break her heart.

  His quiet snicker made Sherri look at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Just thinking….”

  Sherri’s expression softened, believing Adam was reminiscing about them and what could have been. She was wrong. Instead, he was thinking about how there was a very good chance that in a couple of days they’d all be dead.

  ********

  Four hours later, the Najmah Fayd sped away from the mangled alien spaceship, making a beeline for the first of the potential systems from the initial survey. No one expected the first one to have what they were looking for, and they were right. Two days later, and still no luck, Adam passed through the common room with an announcement.

  “Strategy meeting on the bridge in five, all crew required to attend.” With purpose, he kept walking toward the bridge.

  Riyad looked at Sherri and frowned. “Required to attend? Who died and put him in charge?”

  “I know. Just because he was in the military—like a century ago—he thinks he can boss us around,” Sherri added.

  “Delusions of grandeur if you ask me,” Copernicus chimed in.

  “I can hear you.”

  Copernicus coked his head. “But he does have some damn good hearing…for an old guy.”

  Adam had to give him that. Copernicus Smith was the youngest onboard, technically making Sherri the cougar of the Najmah Fayd and Adam the old man at forty-nine. He had no idea how old Kaylor and Jym were. It didn’t matter. They were on a different biological clock than the Humans.

  With mock irritation, the crew gathered on the bridge, slumping into seats, most propping feet onto control consoles. A sea of stars shown through the viewport, casting the room in a kaleidoscope of colors ranging from blue and red, to yellow and orange.

  Adam sat down on the weapons console, careful th
at his butt didn’t activate any of the fire controls.

  “Okay, here’s our situation,” he began. “We haven’t found any worlds with star-travel capability, just a few with primitive lifeforms more suitable for barbecuing than helping us find the Nuoreans.”

  Sherri was seated in the pilot seat next to Copernicus. “Gee, I must have slept though that part, Captain Obvious.”

  Adam smirked. “I’m glad we’re all in good spirits.”

  “We’re bored, Adam,” Riyad groaned. “When are we going to see some action?”

  Adam patted his pockets. “Let me check my crystal ball—oh, yeah…I left it in the Milky Way. Seriously, I know it’s only a matter of time before we find a star-traveling civilization with a nav computer we can borrow. If not, then we’ll make our way back to the midpoint generator transit zone. There were over five thousand Nuorean ships assembled there, ready to make the jump. That’s enough for two transits, the last coming four days from now.”

  Jym sat up in his chair, suddenly interested. “Are you suggesting that if we do not find a nav computer that we might return to our galaxy?”

  Adam blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. Once a mission was a go, he seldom looked for a way to back out. “That wasn’t what I was suggesting. There’ll be a lot of Nuorean ships around. I was thinking of grabbing a nav computer off one of them as a last resort.”

  “But retreat could also be a last resort.” Kaylor said.

  Adam looked at the faces in the room. The aliens were ready to call it quits, while the expressions on the Humans were that of universal resignation.

  “If we have no hope of finding Nuor—or the LP out to the midpoint generator—what good are we doing here?” Sherri said softly. “I know our mission is important, but without a chance of success, we’re just wasting our time…and potentially a lot more.”

  The original plan called for the team to make the jump to Andromeda and then find the transit zone out to the midpoint generator. Intelligence reports had the Nuoreans calling each of these generator locations LP’s—launch points. The one they were looking for was designated LP-5.