by T. R. Harris
Adam’s history within the Fringe was limited yet eventful. He began his adventure among the stars here, and after his rescue from the Klin by Kaylor and Jym, he spent two years as a freelance assassin to earn enough credits to survive on. The job had turned out to be both easy and rewarding, as his SEAL training—coupled with the relative weakness of his targets—made fulfilling contracts a breeze. The money was great, allowing him to purchase his first starship, the Cassie I, named for his young daughter, who died in the first Juirean attack on Earth.
As a result of the variety of contracts he accepted during that time, he’d had the opportunity to visit all twelve habitable planets in the Fringe, including the homeworld of his main benefactor, the planet Castor. As the Pegasus II achieved a brief orbit before gaining authority to descend to the main spaceport above the underground city of Krune, he felt a strange foreboding looking down at the brown, dusty ball.
His last time on the planet, he’d come to collect his fee for a contract taken out on a minor crime boss by Seton Amick, his primary source of business at the time. Amick lived in a lavish cavern carved out of the side of a mountain, with a magnificent view of the outside world, one of only a handful of Castorians to be able to afford such luxury.
Adam liked Seton and considered him a friend—right up to the time he was himself killed by an assassin’s bullet—or flash bolt in this case—delivered by another top-notch alien assassin operating in the Fringe at that time—Sherri Valentine.
When he thought back over his twenty year history with Sherri, he felt a myriad of emotions, both good and bad. He knew he loved her, and he always would. Yet she was also the most difficult-to-get-along-with woman he’d ever met, the complete opposite of his deceased wife, Marie. At times Sherri had been a loyal and competent companion during his many adventures in the galaxy. At others she’d been an irritating thorn in his side.
They had permanently parted ways about a year ago, and she’d since married the real estate broker from the Bay Area who’d helped with the purchase of her home in Orinda. She was happy and content now—and expecting her first child. Her marriage had ended their frequent off-planet publicity junkets, during which they and Riyad would be paraded before adoring crowds, often at Joining Ceremonies for new members of the Union. That had come as a relief, as he’d never liked the pomp and ceremony of the events and needing to act the hero, especially when he knew the truth behind most of his celebrity—luck.
That’s all it was, luck, pure and simple. Adam Cain was the luckiest son-of-a-bitch alive and he knew it. So many times he had survived by seat-of-the-pants planning or an almost unbelievable set of contrived circumstances one could only find in some hack science fiction novel. That was why, in his mid-forties, Adam was satisfied with not pressing his luck much further.
Then the pale mutant alien had arrived at his door. And now he was up to his neck again in danger…and he didn’t know how much longer his luck would hold up.
Riyad Tarazi, the third member of the Big Three heroes of the Juirean and Klin Wars, hadn’t been as content to let the gravy train disappear. With the very lucrative promotional tours over, he’d sought consulting work, both in the Union and the Expansion. Along with Adam and a few surviving Q’uel, Riyad was among only a handful of creatures in the galaxy to have ever traveled to another dimension—in fact, to the very homeworld of the Sol-Kor—and as a result he’d found a decent replacement for the Joining tours by passing himself off as an expert on the Sol-Kor. Now he bounced from planet to planet offering his advice on defensive strategies, as well as a concocted psychological analysis of the voracious invaders. Having met the Queen herself, Riyad professed to have a unique insight into how the Sol-Kor thought, and this insight was being parlayed into a very lucrative occupation for the ex-terrorist-turned-hero.
It was all bullshit, of course. In reality, the Sol-Kor were the most transparent creatures around, governed by the most basic of instincts—hunger. Food was all they wanted, all they needed. It was as simple as that, and they would do anything to get it. It didn’t take any special insight to see that.
But not according to Riyad Tarazi. According to him, the Sol-Kor were a complex and unreadable race, and his expertise was needed to decipher them. And his expertise didn’t come cheap.
The last Adam had heard, Riyad was somewhere in the Expansion, on a circuit of a dozen worried worlds who were paying dearly for his special insight and advice. Adam smiled when he remembered how much Riyad told him he was getting for these consulting jobs. It was far more than they got for the promotional tours, and without needing to give public speeches or to put on dog-and-pony shows for adoring masses.
Now, as the brown dust of Castor billowed up to obscure the landing field of the spaceport, Adam was feeling a little lonely. It had been many a year since he’d set off on an adventure without his two main companions. Through good and bad, they had been the one constant in his otherwise chaotic life.
He tried to cheer his mood by thinking that in a few short hours he would be reunited with the very first aliens he’d ever met—Kaylor and Jym. It would be an emotional homecoming, but…they were still just aliens. The level of intimacy wouldn’t be same, not like if they were Human. Plus, this wasn’t a pleasure trip. He was involving his two best alien friends in a situation that could easily cost them their lives. Yet he had no one else to turn to.
The dust quickly settled outside the ship; the new dimensional phase shifter engines produced only a minimal amount of backwash. Looking out at the stark landscape of the savage mining world, Adam had no doubt the wolves would already be out for him and Panur, even here in the backwater part of the galaxy. In fact, with all the scoundrels and miscreants to be found here, this was probably a more dangerous landfall than most.
This line of thinking brought him to the two million Juirean credits he had stashed aboard the Pegasus II—contingency funds left over from a bygone era. With this money he knew his anonymity could be bought, at least for a while. Hopefully that would be enough time for Panur to complete his detector and offer it to the galaxy as vindication for Adam’s actions.
If not, then all the success and glory from the past twenty years would have all been wasted.
********
The need for payola began immediately upon landing. The port authority was slipped ten thousand credits to conveniently misplace the transponder code for the Pegasus II—a temporary error, lasting only five days. After that, they would have to leave the planet, or the fee tripled.
The two fugitives gained access to the huge underground city through a VIP entrance devoid of scanners and cameras, where they were met by a transport with blacked-out windows driven by a robot. This cost another two thousands credits, but they were able to bypass the public subway system and proceed eight levels down through traffic-filled streets to the rendezvous point with the two aliens.
For a brief time, Adam had maintained an apartment in the city, not so much a living space as a repository for his weapon cache. Most of his time back then was spent aboard the Cassie I, where he could control the gravity. Even though the lighter gravity of Castor was a delight to move in, over time it weakened the muscles, and Human bodies adapted rapidly. This was not welcome in his profession, either then or now. His Human strength, agility, and speed were his most valuable assets. Too much time in a weak-gravity environment would erode those advantages.
The atmosphere of Castor was thinner than Earth’s, with a lower pressure that required him to wear a breathing mask most of the time. He could go without it for periods up to a half an hour at a time before having to replace the mask. Panur seemed to have no problem with the air pressure, just as Adam had noticed he had no issues with Earth’s heavier gravity and air pressure either, and seemed able to adapt to different environments like he could change his shape as needed.
The pair made their way into the seedier part of the city, near where Adam had once had his apartment. There was a hotel nearby, not the best place in town, but one that d
idn’t ask questions of its guests. Kaylor and Jym should already be there, having been closer to Castor at the time Adam made contact. As Adam approached the front desk, the clerk didn’t have to be asked, he pointed to an indicator on the back wall behind the counter, where a series of room numbers were displayed. The aliens were in room number seventeen.
After Adam knocked on the door, it still took nearly a full minute for it to open. By then, Adam was livid.
“What the hell, Kaylor? Why did you leave us out in the hallway that long? We were sitting ducks.”
“Seated water fowl? I do not understand.”
“We had no cover out there from attack. Why did it take so long?”
“Blame Jym. He insisted on employing a heat-signature reader to make sure there were only two of you.” The tall, light blue-skinned alien then eyed the much shorter Panur. “Even then, your friend here does not have much of a heat signature. Jym suspected that he was not even alive.”
“I’ve often wondered that myself,” Adam said as he pressed his way past Kaylor and into the single room.
Jym was crouched down on the other side of the bed, the barrel of an MK-17 bolt launcher sticking up over the edge. “Welcome, Adam Cain,” he said. “Is that the alien everyone is talking about?”
“I’m not any more an alien than you are,” Panur answered for himself. “Are these your friends or your enemies, Adam? They do not appear to be very trusting.”
“When the entire galaxy is looking for you, it is wise not to be too trusting, especially if the reports are true,” Jym said, bobbing his head up and down as he spoke.
“What reports?” Adam asked.
Jym stood up, yet with his weapon still fixed on Panur. “That he is a walking weapon, capable of shape-shifting and impervious to bolt weapons.”
“If he’s impervious to bolt weapons, why do you have one aimed at him?”
“Because it makes me feel better.”
Adam shrugged. “I can’t argue with that. But seriously, put down the weapon. We’re all on the same side here.”
“And which side is that, Adam Cain?” Kaylor asked as he embraced the Human in a brief welcoming hug. “It has been a long time, and now you come to us when in great need, and offering a substantial reward for our help. You are a friend, yet until we have more information, please do not count fully on our assistance in your mission.”
“That’s understandable. But first let’s all relax. Panur is not the walking weapon he’s made out to be, and the reason we’re being sought is all a big plot on the part of the Sol-Kor to get him back.”
There was a single table and two chairs in the small room. Adam and Kaylor took seats while Panur, and a very nervous-looking Jym, sat on the bed. Adam then proceeded to lay out the entire story of Panur, the Sol-Kor, and the situation they now found themselves in. It took a full hour. He left out the part about the portal detector. The details of that would only poison his presentation. He would leave that up to Panur.
When Adam was done, Kaylor and Jym sat staring at the small, pale alien, mesmerized and in awe.
“You are five thousand standard years old? I find that amazing,” Kaylor said.
“Yes, it is a unique and fortunate event. It has allowed me the time and opportunity to gain an incredible body of knowledge.”
“And you have used this knowledge to build portals to other universes, as well as advanced weaponry and propulsion systems?” said Jym, all his prior concerns vanished.
“That is correct.” Panur sent a tight-lipped grin Jym’s way. “I understand from Adam that you are quite a technological wizard yourself. I would welcome our interaction.”
Adam saw Jym literally gush from the compliment, having to clean spittle from his short snout afterwards. He had never seen such a show of hero-worship from the tiny bear-like alien before, and he felt a combination of both trepidation and respect for how easily Panur had been able to manipulate the always-nervous and skeptical Jym’s emotions, winning him over to his side with a single remark. That Panur had sized up Jym in a matter of seconds was what worried Adam the most. Manipulation was second-nature to the mutant, and now he wondered how much he had been manipulated, now and in the past…
“We would be more than willing to assist you in sheltering Panur,” Kaylor said for the two of them. Jym nodded emphatically. And then Kaylor frowned, setting the inch long appendages hanging from his ears to swinging. “Yet I see where our efforts will be in vain. With such forces out looking for him, he will be eventually found.”
Adam leaned back in the rickety chair. “Kaylor’s right,” he said to Panur. “Unless I can convince the entire galaxy that the Sol-Kor offer of immunity is bogus, the search will go on for as long as they’re invading our galaxy.”
“I assume bogus means false,” Kaylor said when the translation bug could find no reference for the strange word. “Unless the Humans—and others—can drive the Sol-Kor from the galaxy, this is a losing proposition.”
“I may have a solution,” Panur stated, and before any of the others could raise the question, he continued: “I’m working on a plan. It is not complete as of yet, but with an adequate amount of time, it could be the answer we seek.”
“Is that why you need the starships?” Kaylor asked, turning to Adam. “I have arranged for Angar to meet us later this night. He chose the location.”
“Yes, that is why I need the ships,” Panur answered, looking at Adam with a frown.
“I told them about the diamonds,” he confessed. “They needed to know.”
“Did you tell them where they are to be acquired?”
“That I have not.”
“What is it we do not know?” Jym asked, the tip of his black nose now lifting up and down.
“I will tell you later, my friend,” Panur said with a closed-lip smile. He stood up from the bed and walked to a far corner, where he sat down cross-legged and leaning against the wall. “Now I need time to work. You may continue to converse, I will not be disturbed.” Then the face of the pale alien went blank and his mouth fell open slightly. His large, dark eyes remained open, staring unblinking into the room.
Kaylor and Jym looked to Adam. “He’s visualizing the solution. It’s how he works,” Adam explained. “When he’s done, it will simply be a matter of assembling the parts for the device he’s designing.”
“What sort of device?” Kaylor asked.
“It’s a detector, something quite sophisticated. If it works, it’ll help free the galaxy of the Sol-Kor.”
Kaylor smiled. “If I may use a phrase I learned from you…no shit?”
Adam returned the smile. “No shit. Let’s just hope I—now we—can stay hidden long enough for him to build it.” Adam rose from his chair. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go make a call. Keep an eye on him. And don’t let him leave the room.”
Chapter 8
Although he was drunk out of his mind, Riyad Tarazi still noticed the four hulking Juireans when they entered the restaurant. He credited his exceptional situational awareness to the many years he’d spent as a jihadist serving in the name of Allah, where constant vigilance was an occupational necessity.
Yet even as his training took over, he still had to curse his host for not informing him that the irresistibly delicious local beverage he’d been drinking all night was an intoxicant. It wasn’t evident from the taste; however, the results spoke for themselves. How his reaction time would be affected was anyone’s guess.
Riyad was solidly within Expansion space. The wars were long over and the creatures from Earth were allowed almost universal movement within the empire, unlike the restrictions mankind placed on aliens coming into the Union. Yet the stern looks on the faces of the approaching Juireans told him that his presence on the planet Vinnous Mak was unwelcome, at least to them.
Riyad had been personally invited—and well compensated—to attend a strategy conference and weapons demonstration being held on the planet to address security issues to counter th
e Sol-Kor threat. In the end, his contribution to the conference amounted to little more than a lot of reassurances that the primary powers in the galaxy were on top of the situation, and that the Sol-Kor were on the run.
Just keep an active vigil and the natives of Vinnous Mak should be fine…
Oh, and it wouldn’t hurt to purchase about a quadrillion credits worth of defensive military equipment from his Earth-based benefactors either. The commissions he received for these cut-out transactions were seldom reported, and were currently gaining interest on a planet called Zufin, just on the Expansion side of the border with the Union.
Riyad was nearing fifty, and he had his pending retirement to consider.
The truth be known, the ravenous invaders from another dimension were anything but contained. In fact, no one had an accurate handle on the situation to even hazard a guess as to their strength or movements within the Milky Way. But that wasn’t what the attendees wanted to hear. So Riyad accepted his consulting fee while doing his best to calm the concerns of the nervous aliens.
At the conclusion of the conference, its chief organizer—a Makean named Rorick something-or-another—had invited him to dine at one of the capital’s more exclusive restaurants. And now, watching the four Juireans wend their way directly for his booth, Riyad felt like a trapped rat, unsure of the lay of the land or what forces were being brought against him—all the while harboring a blurry vision and numbness tingling from his head to his toes.
He had already located a secondary exit not too from where he sat, and so far no Juireans were stationed there. Normally, with only four aliens to contend with, Riyad wouldn’t have given the developing situation a second thought. If that was the extent of the threat, he had confidence he could handle it.
Except he might fall flat on his face the moment he stood up.
The Juireans made an impression on the crowded dining room. Each stood over seven feet tall. There were three green-maned Guards, along with a white-haired Overlord. His presence was what set Riyad on guard. Overlords seldom ventured out among the populace of the Expansion, so his being here was a warning that something big was up. The Overlord stopped at the booth and glared down at Riyad.
