by T. R. Harris
“What’s with all the improvements? You expecting guests?”
“Yes, Adam Cain. There is a Third Cadre squadron on the way. They will be here tomorrow to take you and others to Nuor. Grand Master Cashin (1,345) Kallen-Noc is with them. There is to be an upgrading of the base as they search for your spacecraft. There is much enthusiasm surrounding its discovery.”
“But you haven’t found it.” Adam said, hoping he knew something the Nuorean didn’t.
“Not yet. But an all-out effort is being made. This is Nuorean space. It will be found.”
The pair came to a wide stairway leading down. With his new-found mental powers, Adam could read the Nuorean writing on the wall: Sub-Level One. His talkative friend was still babbling on.
“The holding pens below are where we keep aliens awaiting trials and classification. In a past time, hundreds would be here,” Joris volunteered. “We Nuoreans will face any creature with the proper challenge factor. Often this involves races with different atmospheres and air pressure. Within the holding pens we can regulate such factors, then either the alien or the Nuor will be provided gear to accommodate such differences. This facility is where the matches are held to verify challenge factors. Beings who can tolerate our atmosphere will meet in the outside arenas.”
“What are you, some kind of tour guide?”
“No, I am just a standard player, but I must say I am quite excited to be living out a T35R scenario. We learned about this in school, but seldom does a Nuorean get to participate in real life.”
“What’s a T35R scenario?” Adam asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“It is a hostage-taking for the purpose of accessing restricted areas.”
“You learn this in school?”
“Yes, it is all part of our game strategy training.”
They were moving along a wide corridor, passing several glassed-in chambers on the right and monitoring stations on the left, with very few Nuoreans at the stations. Sub-Level One looked mostly deserted.
“So tell me, Joris, how does this T35R scenario usually play out?”
“That depends,” the alien answered with barely restrained enthusiasm. “If the hostage-taker has a relatively good chance of achieving his goal, then we are taught to deceive and manipulate the truth. If the chance is poor, we tell the truth. At that point, it matters not and will help put the hostage-taker at ease.”
“And what have you told me?”
“I’ve told you the truth.”
Adam was afraid he was going to say that. “And why do you believe I have a poor chance of succeeding?”
Joris stopped and turned to face Adam. “Because…I activated an emergency alert within my uniform the moment you confronted me. Our conversation has been monitored ever since.”
The corridor was suddenly filled with more aliens than it should have been able to hold, all with flash weapons aimed at Adam. The whole operation was quiet, quick and efficient. Adam nodded with admiration.
He turned to his young Nuorean guide. “Well played, Joris. Well played.”
The alien beamed. “I thank you, Adam Cain. To a Nuorean, that is the greatest compliment we can receive.”
The alien was still bubbling over with pride as Adam was hustled away.
********
Two minutes later, Adam was pushed through a doorway and into a large glass chamber, filled with cots, a toilet, a washbasin…and his three companions. They rushed to him, looks of utter shock on their faces. Sherri wrapped her arms around his neck and didn’t let go for a full minute, leaving the men to pat his back or shake his hand.
“For a bunch of superheroes, we sure do get captured a lot,” said Riyad wryly.
“It not the getting caught part that makes us heroes,” Adam corrected. “It’s all the damn escapin’ afterwards.”
“You know, you’re supposed to be dead,” Copernicus Smith said matter-a-factly. “When we saw you take a nosedive into the canyon, we thought you were toast.”
Sherri let him go. “Yeah, how did you survive?” She looked at him, deep furrows on her forehead. The Nuoreans had removed his raincoat and uniform jacket; they let him keep the shoes. His shirt was ripped and stained with blood, his pants in matching condition. She focused on the red splotches on his arms, anger building on her face.
“What the hell, Adam?” She took his arms and held them out in front of her. “These were open wounds only a few hours ago, they shouldn’t be healed this much. And don’t think I didn’t notice the cut on your arm that Nuorean bastard gave you in the arena. You tried to hide from me how fast it healed. But I’m no fool; this isn’t right.”
“What are you saying, Sherri?” Riyad asked.
“I’m saying he’s exhibiting some of the same abilities…as a mutant.”
“That’s crazy,” Adam said. “I’m not a mutant. You’ve known me—”
“Yeah, that would explain a lot, actually.” Coop interrupted.
“So what is the truth, my friend?” Riyad asked. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”
Adam studied their faces. One part of him was reluctant to reveal the truth; another wanted to let it all out. It looked like now he had no choice.
“Why don’t all of you sit down; this is going to take some explaining.”
********
Half an hour later, he had told them about the mind-meld between him and Panur, and how a small portion of the immortal mutant’s brain cells had been left behind when he withdrew. Since then, Adam has been feeling out his new-found abilities; some experiments successful, others not so much—like his attempted leap over a hundred-foot-wide canyon.
“This is great!” Copernicus exclaimed. “Now use your magical powers and get us out of here.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Adam said. “They only enhance my natural abilities, and only when needed.”
“Let me get this straight,” Copernicus started. “You have an Artificial Telepathy Device, latent mutant superpowers and, well…you’re Adam friggin’ Cain. And still you can’t get us out of here?”
“I didn’t say that. Just give me a little time to come up with a plan. Oh, and by the way, there’s a squad of Third Cadre on their way to pick us up, along with a Grand Master. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
“To take us to Nuor?” Sherri asked.
“Yep.”
“Have you contacted Kaylor?”
“Uh-huh. He’s safe and waiting for my call.”
Riyad smiled. “So it looks like we may get to Nuor after all, even without a map.”
“Seems all roads lead to Nuor,” Sherri said, “at least in the Andromeda Galaxy.”
Chapter 9
The holding pen was like living inside a racquetball court. There was no place to hide, and now the outer corridor was swarming with Nuoreans. Some were on guard, while others just came to gawk, curious about the prisoners. They’d heard a lot about Humans from their comrades in the Milky Way, while others had never seen a Jundac race in person.
After having no effect on their audience, Adam and the others stopped flashing them the bird. They didn’t grasp the insult.
The Nuoreans observed a day-night cycle within the building, dimming the lights by half as evening fell. The strong smell of fresh paint gave them all headaches—Adam’s lessened by his helpful mutant cells—but it still lingered, just behind his eyes. Eventually, they all claimed cots and fell asleep—again, all except Adam. He could get by on less than hour’s sleep per night; the rest of the time was spent working out escape scenarios in his mind.
He contacted Kaylor again through his ATD and filled him in. They briefly discussed the possibility of the Najmah Fayd sweeping in to save the day, but that was discarded as being too risky. The Nuoreans were after the ship, and if they succeeded in capturing it intact, not only would their mission fail, but the Milky Way would be in worse shape than it was already.
The best time to attempt an escape would come during the transfer from the
holding cell to the Third Cadre ship arriving sometime the next day. Would it land at the spaceport or somewhere near the Nuorean base? Throughout the night, Adam categorized the various options; if this…then that, and so forth. By the time the lights came back to full strength in the cell, Adam had about a dozen escape plans all locked away in his mind.
What actually happened was not one of them.
********
Adam was starving—this was a constant since becoming part mutant. Panur and the others could absorb energy directly. Not Adam. He had to wolf down all the food he could to help feed the energy requirements of his mutant tumor.
“Can we get some food in here?” Adam yelled through the glass wall.
A Nuorean on the other side shook his head. “You will not be here long enough. The Cadre is on site.”
At least now Adam had a timetable to work with. But he was still hungry.
Sherri and the others knew something was in the works. They could also see that the best time to escape would be once they were out of the cell. Tensions were high, their future uncertain. Adam simply considered it SOP—Standard Operating Procedure—at least for his band of Human heroes.
Feeling like animals in a zoo, Adam and his team stared through the glass at the huge entourage of Nuoreans who showed up a couple of minutes later. One old alien was deferred to more than all the others. He was tall, wide-shouldered and wearing a tan cape over his simple clothing. This had to be the Grand Master, one of the council of leaders of the Nuorean race. Adam knew they achieved such status through years of combat wins, against both Nuoreans and aliens. Although he was old and past his fighting years, Adam could sense the strength and confidence in the alien. He was part of an elite class, and one based on ability, and not politics or backroom maneuverings.
The alien stepped up to the glass; the Humans moved to join him on the other side.
“Some of the other Grand Masters have met Humans in private combat; I, unfortunately, was not afforded the opportunity,” the Nuorean said in a strong, clear voice. “Perhaps when we get to Nuor, I will remedy that.” He focused on Adam. “I recognize you as Adam Cain, and the other members of your support team.”
“Support?” Copernicus snorted.
The Nuorean eyed him for a moment before returning his attention to Adam. “You are well-known, and as one player to another, I offer you respect for your many accomplishments. You will find our two races are very similar in make-up and attitude.” The Grand Master smiled. “That is why we cannot allow you to exist.”
He motioned for the door to be opened and the prisoners removed.
“I am Grand Master Cashin (1,345) Kallen-Noc,” he announced as the Humans were shackled in wrist restraints. “The Kallen-Noc blood-team is the largest of the six prominent families within our race. There are others, yet they have not joined to form more powerful teams. At this time, the Kallen-Noc rule the Nuoreans.”
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.”
Chapter 10
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 se
nding in additional units to assist in the search for the Human space vessel. And, Master, the 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—and 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.”
