by T. R. Harris
********
Within minutes, nearly all the Nuoreans onboard the station had departed, taking escape pods to the small fleet of starships encircling the station. That didn’t mean Adam and Sherri were out of the woods. They encountered spotty resistance in the form of the black-uniformed aliens with the yellow strips on their chest—the Third Cadre.
At one particular corridor intersection, they came upon ten of the pesky aliens and had to expend a lot of their ammo reserves to eliminate the threat. Farther along, at a deserted control station, Sherri plugged in a datapad while Adam utilized his newly-acquired talent for alien computer hacking. Soon they had the layout of the station, with the main control room set as their destination.
They met additional resistance, but nothing they couldn’t handle, and when they entered the huge room, with its multiple banks of computer terminals, they found it deserted. Yet more of the Third Cadre was just behind them. Adam shut and locked the door, placing Sherri on sentry duty.
Adam rushed to what looked to be the central console and sat down. He began tapping on the keyboard, which had a combination of letters and short-cut symbols as options. He could read the screen, and soon was on the hunt.
“I got it!” he called out.
“Great, hurry,” Sherri said. “We only have forty-eight minutes before LP-5 sets off and we’re nowhere near the transit zone.”
Adam scanned the data—which revealed the staging area for the LP-6 station in Andromeda—their way home. Then he scanned it again…and again. This wasn’t right.
Sherri was looking at him, baffled by his long silence. “What’s wrong?”
“The LP-6 transit zone….”
“What about it?”
“It’s six thousand light-years into the galaxy beyond Nuor.”
“Six thousand!” Sherri fell back on her butt, leaning against a console, M-101 rifle cradled in her lap. “We can’t make that in time, no matter what we do.”
There was another long silence in the room before Adam began tapping again on the keyboard.
“What are you doing?”
“I have an idea.” He spoke as he typed. “This station controls the generator complex, including the alignment. All I have to do is figure out how to do that and I can bring the transit zone in closer.”
“You can do that?”
“I should. I can’t see why not.”
He continued to feverishly tap the keys—until be pushed back in his chair, staring at the console.
“Now what?” Sherri asked.
“The links…they’re gone.”
“What links?”
“The links to the generators, or at least to the alignment and fire controls. I can’t even stop the firing from here.”
“You mean they’ve been disabled? Well…we’ve got to find a way to bypass it.”
“They haven’t been disabled, but totally cut. They no longer exist between the two locations.”
Adam left the chair and ran to where Sherri sat. “I have to get to the control room at the generator complex. It’s the only way to change the alignment.”
Sherri was on her feet, checking the load on her weapon.
“I need you to stay here.”
“No frigging way!”
“Really. I need you to monitor the alignment. I have an idea that just might save our asses all around, but I need you to help guide me.”
He took her to the main console screen and pulled up a graphic representation of the generators and their programmed alignment. “I’ll link with your ear comm with the ATD. Five thousand miles is nothing for the device, so we can stay in contact. I’ll take the Najmah Fayd to the generators.”
“You think the Nuoreans will just let you hop over there without putting up a fuss?”
“I’ll deal with that. You just stay here and monitor the screen.”
“You know there are Nuoreans outside the door?”
“I’ll take care of that too,” he said with a wicked grin.
“Go for it Superman!”
Adam removed all his gear except for the M-101 and laid it at Sherri’s feet. “In case you need it.” Sherri nodded.
Then Adam set himself at the pressure door to the control room. With another nod, Sherri activated the controls.
The six Third Cadre troops in the outer foyer were caught off guard by the door’s sudden opening. They weren’t expecting a counter assault, but that’s just what they got. Adam sprayed the area with hot lead, ripping apart five of the aliens. A sixth appeared to his left, and promptly ate the butt end of the M-101’s stock.
The door to the control room was still open, with Sherri standing in the portal. Adam sent her a wink before racing away.
Chapter 20
Adam’s ship was sitting atop the space station, nine levels above his current location. Yet as he ran through deserted hallways, he began to encounter an inordinate number of closed and locked pressure doors. They hadn’t been closed before, and with nearly the whole crew off the station, it didn’t make sense they would be closed now.
He had memorized the layout of the station, so he kept altering his path back to his ship to avoid the locked doors. His task became more difficult, until only one path remained.
He burst into a large circular room, with a double-high ceiling and a deck covered in dirt. Adam instantly recognized this as being one of the Nuorean combat arenas, albeit on a much smaller scale.
Someone moved on the other side.
Adam unleashed a spread of M-101 bullets following the path of the running Nuorean, but didn’t strike him before he ducked behind a metal partition along the circumference of the arena. Adam’s weapon clicked empty; all his spare magazines were with Sherri in the control room.
The alien hiding behind the partition heard the clicking, as well, and understood the meaning. A well-proportion and fit-looking Nuorean stepped out from behind the barrier, wearing the uniform of a Third Cadre, yet with two sets of three stripes each on his chest. He stepped forward a few paces before stopping, a standard Nuorean combat sword held in each hands.
“Who the hell are you?” Adam asked, as he tossed the useless M-101 to the side.
“I am Morlon (783) Voden-Mor. I am the Third Cadre officer who has been your primary opponent since your arrival in the Suponac.”
“My opponent?” Adam said with a smirk. “Well, you haven’t done a very good job of it. You haven’t stopped me from getting here.”
Adam saw a vein in the alien’s neck pulse and his jaw set. “No, I have not,” Morlon said. “Yet you will go no farther.”
Adam knew the only way to the Najmah Fayd was through the door behind the alien warrior. He eyed the two swords in his hands. Even with that, Adam was sure his mutant abilities could get him past.
“Before you contemplate any rash movements, I must warn you.”
“About what?”
“Who I am.”
“I don’t care who you are.”
Adam’s comment surprised the Nuorean, but he recovered quickly and smiled. “You should, Adam Cain. Before I joined the Third Cadre, I had acquired more points for my age than any Nuorean before me. I did that because I’m the best—the best player the Nuorean race has ever produced. Yes, you may be able to dispatch others of my kind with relative ease—even my Cadre teammates—but you will find I am at an entirely different level. You will not defeat me.”
“Not with you holding all the swords.”
Morlon laughed and looked down at his weapons. “Oh, both of these are not for me.” He tossed the one in his left hand over to Adam. “I intend to make this an honor match: the Kac’s greatest player against the Suponac’s greatest. I only regret this challenge will not be broadcast. It would be a match for the ages.”
Adam didn’t have time for this. The clock was ticking down to the launches of both LP-5 and LP-6, and this alien asshole was standing in his way.
Adam twirled the lightweight sword with a flick of his wrist. Morlon did the s
ame, before beginning a defiant march toward Adam.
A surge of energy coursed through Adam’s body, a sign that his mutant cells had got the message. And it was needed as Morlon made his first attack.
With seven consecutive slashes at phenomenal speed, it was all Adam could do to counter the blows. He wasn’t expecting this, and only his enhanced reaction time saved him from being sliced to bits. His mutant healing abilities helped with cuts and bruises; but he doubted they would make much difference if he was decapitated.
The attack resumed after only a brief pause, with Morlon displaying remarkable footwork and balance, along with his speed and agility. Adam could counter the strength of the alien; that was no problem. But it was Morlon’s skill with the blade he couldn’t overcome. Only through luck and residual mutant cells, did Adam manage to slip back just as the tip of Morlon’s blade sliced open the front of his shirt and split the skin. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was bloody—for a moment.
Morlon was aware of everything on the battlefield, and he watched wide-eyed as the cut stopped bleeding almost immediately. The wound was still open, but the first thing Adam’s mutant cells did was order the surrounding skin to seal the broken blood vessels. In addition, the pain was minimal, allowing Adam to send a thin smile back to his alien opponent.
Morlon’s confusion only lasted a moment before he was on the attack again. This time he combined his strikes with fantastic cartwheels and flips. It was really quite amazing, because each time he landed he was balanced and in position for another thrust or slice.
This went on for a full minute before Adam’s mind finished cataloguing most of the alien’s moves, at least enough to send instructions to his muscles and limbs, allowing him to counter each of Morlon’s strikes, almost by instinct.
The alien had enough combat experience to know something wasn’t right. He had defeated thousands of opponents—both Nuorean and alien—yet this felt different. He was giving it his best, and still it wasn’t enough. Adam could see the concern clouding the alien’s eyes.
The pair separated, at which point Morlon asked: “What are you? In all my research on Humans—including live demonstrations of your fighting skills—I have never witnessed anything like this.”
“It’s because I’m Superman, dickhead.” Adam pulled back his torn shirt, showing were the cut was now only half the width it had been a minute before. His healing juices were working overtime, perhaps triggered on the adrenalin in his blood. He was healing at even a faster rate than before.
“You are not…normal.”
“Normal is a relative term. But now—what did you say your name was…Morpheus?—I have something to do and you’re in my way.”
“It is Morlon (783), and if you are referring to the realignment of the gravity generators, you are embarking on an impossible mission.”
The wicked confidence of the Nuorean made Adam’s stomach churn.
The alien stepped into the silence. “I assume because you are rushing to the generators that you have discovered the location of staging area for LP-6. You believe you can shift the transit zone, possibly bring it closer. As a master strategist, I have foreseen your actions and have destroyed the controls for all the attitude jets, as well as for the launch sequence. You cannot adjust the alignment and you cannot stop the launch.”
Morlon was growing more excited by the moment, reveling in the shock on Adam’s face. He continued: “As defeated as you feel now, I have more to tell. This information you will find of particular interest. Have you considered why the staging area for LP-6 is so far from the rim? It was done for a purpose…so we could reach a particular point within the Kac. Do you know where that might be?”
Adam broke out in a cold sweat. “Let me guess…Earth.”
Morlon smiled. “Yes, your planet Dirt.”
Adam’s mind began to work overtime deciphering what he just heard. It made sense, and when considering what a transit pulse could do to a planet, he knew the next one through LP-6 was no ordinary transit between galaxies. This next one—the one he intended to ride back home—would mean the destruction of Earth.
Morlon was overjoyed, watching Adam’s reaction to the news. There was no doubt the alien was telling the truth, but what Morlon didn’t know was Adam was already thinking ten steps ahead. Because of this, Adam had no more time to waste on the alien.
Accessing the genius in his mind, Adam calculated the weight and length of the sword, as well as the distance to Morlon. Then he smiled at the alien, which caused the grin on the alien’s face to vanish.
“Well—Morlon—did you foresee this?”
Adam drew back the sword and then hurled it at the Nuorean.
It twirled through the air before the blade entered the center of the alien’s chest tip-first and just to the right of the double set of yellow stripes. Wide brown eyes displayed the shock coursing through Morlon’s body, as the unthinkable became reality. He dropped his own sword and grasped the hilt of Adam’s. He tried pulling it from his chest, but was too weak from the rapid loss of blood. He dropped to his knees, still clutching the sword.
Adam didn’t pause to consider the dying alien. Instead he ran past him and through the portal on the other side of the arena. A minute later, he was banging on the hatch to the Najmah Fayd.
“Kaylor! Open up. It’s me!”
Ten seconds later the hatch lifted away; Adam was through the opening before it had fully opened.
“Seal the hatch,” Adam ordered as he ran for the bridge. “We’re leaving.”
“Trouble?” Kaylor yelled after him.
“Always.”
Adam slipped into the pilot seat, and three seconds later had the ship released from the grapples and streaking way from the space station on a shallow maneuvering well.
“They’re firing at us!” Jym yelled from his station. With only one gravity generator working, they didn’t have power for both the well and the shields…or even the weapons for that matter. With only twenty nine minutes left before the LP-5 generators lit off, propulsion was the priority.
The fortunate thing about plasma bolts is that once they left their launchers, they acted more like ballistics than guided missiles along their flight path. Because of this, Adam was able to perform some fancy evasive maneuvers to avoid the bolts, and as he covered more of the five thousand miles between the station and the generators, the bolts came less frequent—again for fear of hitting the complex.
His target zoomed up in front of him. Here’s where the tricky part came in.
Chapter 21
Riyad and Copernicus had linked up and were now flying in tandem toward the station. That’s when they noticed a familiar contact on their screens. It was designated the Najmah Fayd—and it was bolting away from the station, heading for the generator complex. Their flight paths were within twenty-six miles of each other.
Riyad opened a channel to the ship, even knowing his comm signal could be traced. He didn’t care; he had to know what was going on.
“Riyad to Kaylor—or whoever’s piloting the Najmah Fayd.”
“I’m here, Riyad,” Adam replied, sounding hurried.
“What’s up? We saw you blast past us like a bat outta hell.”
“The generators are lined up on Earth, Riyad. If they go off, it will destroy the planet.”
Riyad and Coop turned their PAVs. “We have to set off the bombs before the launch!” Riyad said.
“That’s not possible,” Adam stated. “You know that. They’re designed to be tamper-proof and only activate after the transit pulse.”
“Then we have to stop the pulse…somehow.” Copernicus said through the comm.
“Get back to the station,” Adam ordered. “Sherri’s in the main control room on the fifth level, across from the landing bays.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have a plan. Now go. I’ll be right behind you.”
Riyad and Coop turned their little ships around again and raced off for the space
station. There were still a lot of alien ships around, and the ones not shooting at Adam had homed in on Riyad’s comm. They were coming about. Fortunately, the Nuoreans knew something was out there; they just couldn’t lock on.
Ten minutes later, the PAVs passed through the huge open portal of the now-empty landing bay. They didn’t bother with closing the door and pressurizing the space. Instead, they clunked on metal shoes for one of the three airlocks leading into the ship.
Emergency lights were flashing and alarms were going off. They kept their helmets on as it became obvious part of the station had lost atmosphere and pressure, undoubtedly from when Adam pulled the Najmah Fayd from the hole he’d cut in the hull. Most of the station was sealed with pressure doors, but the pair soon came upon an internal emergency airlock designed for just these occasions. Once through and into fresh air they took off their helmets.
“Sherri, we’re on our way,” Coop said through his throat mic.
“Where are you?”
“In the station, about a hundred yards from your location. Any hostiles around?”
“Not anymore,” she snickered. “Adam’s gone off to the generator complex.”
“I know. We passed him on the way back. What’s he doing?”
“He thinks he can realign the generators from there.”
Riyad began to bang on the closed door to the control room, assuming he had the right place from the pile of dead Nuoreans on the floor outside. Sherri opened it and jumped into Coop’s space-suited arms.
The trio then rushed to the main monitor console.
“Those fucking bastards,” Coop said after he deciphered the graphic on the screen to be the transit line for the LP-6 generators.
“Did Adam tell you the transit zone for LP-6 is six thousand light-years away?” Sherri asked. “He’s going to see if he can bring it closer so we can catch the jump in time.”
There was something about Sherri’s tone that didn’t sit right with Riyad.
