Battle Plan: Set in The Human Chronicles Universe (The Adam Cain Chronicles Book 3)
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Battle Plan
The Adam Cain Chronicles #3
T.R. Harris
Set in The Human Chronicles Universe
THC
Tom Harris Creations
Copyright 2020
by Tom Harris Creations, LLC
All rights reserved.*
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Novels by T.R. Harris
The Adam Cain Chronicles
The Dead Worlds
Empires
Battle Plan
Galactic Vortex (Coming March 2020)
The Human Chronicles Saga
The Fringe Worlds
Alien Assassin
The War of Pawns
The Tactics of Revenge
The Legend of Earth
Cain’s Crusaders
The Apex Predator
A Galaxy to Conquer
The Masters of War
Prelude to War
The Unreachable Stars
When Earth Reigned Supreme
A Clash of Aliens
Battlelines
The Copernicus Deception
Scorched Earth
Alien Games
The Cain Legacy
The Andromeda Mission
Last Species Standing
Invasion Force
Force of Gravity
Mission Critical
The Lost Universe
The Immortal War
Destroyer of Worlds
Phantoms
Terminus Rising
The Last Aris
The Human Chronicles Box Set Series
Box Set #1 – Books 1-5 in the series
Box Set #2 – Books 6-10 in the series
Box Set #3 – Books 11-15 in the series
Box Set #4 – Books 16-20 in the series
Box Set #5—Books 21-25 in the series
REV Warriors Series
Rev
REV: Renegades
REV: Rebirth
REV: Revolution
REV: Retribution
REV: Revelations (coming soon)
REV Warriors Box Set #1 – Books 1-3 in the series
Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series
The Enclaves of Sylox
Treasure of the Galactic Lights
The Drone Wars Series
Day of the Drone
In collaboration with Co-Author George Wier…
The Liberation Series
Captains Malicious
Available exclusively on Amazon.com and FREE to members of Kindle Unlimited.
Contents
The alien with an attitude is back!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Galactic Vortex
Author’s Notes
Sign-Up Section
Facebook Group
trharrisfb.com
Novels by T.R. Harris
The alien with an attitude is back!
The Adam Cain Chronicles
Moving to the tropical paradise world of Liave-3 was supposed to be a reward for twenty years of saving the galaxy from a variety of aliens with evil intent. But for Adam Cain, Sherri Valentine and Riyad Tarazi, it’s turning out to be anything but a reward. It’s turning into a disaster.
Besieged by gangster thugs, alien assassins and troublesome dinosaurs, the Humans are learning they’ll need all their skills and natural abilities to survive.
In this latest adventure…
A blast from Adam’s past is back—the indomitable Copernicus Smith. Part starship repairman and galactic super-spy, Coop has become involved in a prison break at one of the galaxy’s most notorious prisons. All this leads back to the planet Liave-3 and the re-introduction of some of Adam’s other past teammates, Summer Rains, Monty Pitts and the Juirean Tidus Fe Nolan. The gang’s almost all here and once again roping Adam into their troubles.
Adam Cain and friends are back! Let the alien ass-kicking begin!
1
“We do not get many Humans here,” said the warden. “We have had a few, yet none currently.” He grinned. “It is understandable why you have been sent here.” The alien reached down to a datapad and made an entry. “Your prisoner designation will be NT-4. You are no longer who you once were. From now on, you belong to the Panorius Confinement Center Number Eight.”
“I don’t even know why I’m here,” said the Human, holding up his shackled arms for effect. “There was no trial, no nothing. I was just scooped up and brought here.”
“I might be able to enlighten you as to the reason.” The warden scanned his pad again. “Let me see, the Human known as Copernicus Smith has been accused of assisting the Xaniz Cartel in their activities—”
“I’m not a member of the Cartel! I just repair starships!”
“Yes, you do; however, for the criminal element, allowing their crews to commit unspeakable acts of cruelty and mayhem, or the ability to transport contraband throughout this part of the galaxy. In the eyes of some, that is seen as aiding in their activities.”
“I was just doing the job I was hired to do. I don’t care who they are, so long as they pay.”
“Even if they are criminals?”
Copernicus shifted nervously in his seat. “I normally don’t ask who they are. But that’s not the point. I haven’t been able to defend myself, to give my side of the story.”
The warden nodded. “That is true; however, irrelevant. In some jurisdictions within the Expansion, local governments, business entities and certain individuals with power and influence are allowed to sponsor prisoners in our facilities. Your particular Benefactor has chosen to finance your stay with us—”
“Benefactor? You call someone who snatches you off the street and throws you in jail a Benefactor?”
“They are paying.”
“And I don’t I have any recourse; anyone I can call?”
“Not at the moment,” said the warden. “Your first opportunity to do so will be in fifty days—”
“Fifty days! You mean I’m stuck here all that time?”
The alien wasn’t upset with Coop’s constant interruptions; in fact, he was enjoying it. Copernicus was sure the fat alien had heard the same protests a thousand times before, and still, he reveled in the fear and frustration his victims displayed.
“From my experience, I would say you will be with us for much longer than that. Allow me to explain the procedures we have in place here at Panorius Number Eight.”
Earlier, the warden had introduced himself as Gradier
Dansif, and now, the fat, pale-skinned alien leaned back in his chair and studied the Human for several moments before speaking again.
“The organization I work for maintains several such detention centers throughout the galaxy, each specializing in a particular type of inmate. Number Eight is reserved for the strongest and most dangerous of species, hence your presence here. As you can tell, we are on a moon with gravity one-third that of Juirean Standard. The location was chosen deliberately, designed to counteract any advantages you—and others like you—may have with regard to strength or other physical abilities. As you know, prolonged exposure to such low gravity produces deleterious effects within a body, and the longer you remain, the more severe these effects.
“To foster such reduction in the natural abilities of our guests, all are placed within a Conditioning Chamber for the first two hundred days of your incarceration. During this time, you will slowly lose much of your strength, stamina … and your will to resist. If you survive the Conditioning period, you will be released into the labyrinth below ground. There you may choose any unoccupied side cave as your own and live out a more or less normal life. You will be allowed to work in the various shops and factories Panorius runs, under contract with certain outside entities, and for this you will be paid a small wage. There are shops and eating facilities run by inmates which you may use. Once you reach this stage, you will find that there is very little crime underground, as the inmates are often too weak to commit any.”
The warden grinned, instinctively keeping his teeth from showing fully, a gesture signifying a death challenge in most alien cultures. “Every fifty days, you will be brought before the review board to have your sentence updated. It is then that your Benefactor may choose to pardon you. However, none of the inmates know the true length of their imprisonment. That will depend on those paying for the confinement. At any of these review sessions, you could be set free, meaning your time with us could be as little as fifty days, or as long as a lifetime. You will never know the duration.
“But I must warn you, Copernicus Smith, that since all Benefactors pay in advance for the two-hundred-day conditioning stage, pardons seldom occur during this period. It is only after being conditioned and moved below ground that most pardons occur since Panorius still charges a fee for your containment. Even though the fee is significantly lower than the first two hundred days—since we are compensated by your labor—many Benefactors do not see the need for continual funding. However, if you are pardoned after a fair amount of time on the moon, your body will undoubtedly have trouble acclimating to normal gravity. And very few of our former inmates have the resources for a more regimented reintroduction. Instead, many choose to forfeit their labor pay so they can remain in the catacombs. But death comes sooner in the moon’s gravity, even under the best of conditions.
“And one additional warning. The staff and guards are not subject to the damaging effects of the moon’s gravity. After each shift, we return to the orbiting space station, where we experience the healing effects of standard gravity. This means the guards and staff are much stronger and more durable than any of the inmates—even Humans, at least after the initial conditioning phase. This serves as an additional deterrent to violence or escape attempts.
“Until you are released below ground, you will have to fend for yourself in the Conditioning Chamber. There you will meet creatures with a variety of latent abilities, such as yours. You may survive; you may not; that is not our concern since Panorius survives on our initial payments and labor exchange. If an altercation does occur between inmates, we will make a determination whether or not the injured party—or parties—are worth repairing. If so, they will be taken to the medical ward. If not, then they will be left to die. In the view of Panorius, it is preferable for an inmate to die early within the conditioning stage, since it will be less expensive than servicing a live guest going forward. Therefore, as a general rule, the guards will not interfere. For your first two hundred days at Panorius, it will be survival of the fittest. Following that, it will just be survival.”
This time the alien smiled fully, displaying double rows of small, rounded teeth, unafraid of the sensibilities of his new guest. “That is why I have confidence you will be with us for a very long time since Humans have a tendency to persevere. I welcome that. It will only prolong your misery. Now, NT-4, welcome to the Panorius Confinement Center Number Eight.”
Copernicus Smith was taken from the administration building through a long transparent tube that disappeared into a rock wall ahead. Along the way, he looked out on the monochrome greyness of the moon and its airless terrain. The prison was set within a small crater, bordered by hills several hundred feet high. In the distance was the landing field, and next to it was another large building with cables and huge ducts running into the side of the crater wall, the life support center for the facility. Long shadows cut across the base of the crater, created by the nearby planet or star around which the moon orbited. Coop then noticed a bright object in the blackness of space above. That would be the space station where the guards and staff would return after each shift. He made a note of its location, undoubtedly geosynchronous. That was good to know. He wouldn’t have to go looking for it, if and when the time came.
As he walked, he counted his steps. Although his situation appeared hopeless at the moment, it was in Coop’s nature to always be looking for a way out. After all, he didn’t come to the Panorius Confinement Center to be a prisoner—at least not for long.
The Conditioning Chamber was a rather large, elongated cavern with relatively few occupants, maybe a couple of dozen or so, at least the ones he could see. The right side of the chamber was divided up into dozens of cubicles made of eight-foot-high concrete partitions. To the left was a dining area with free-standing tables and chairs, a lounge area with monitors mounted on the stone wall and what appeared to be a grooming station off in the distance. There were no cooking facilities nor food processors along the wall, meaning the meals had to be brought in from someplace else. Again, that was good information to know.
Copernicus was dressed in a standard tan tunic, too large for his short, Human body. Most aliens were taller than Humans, and the management of the facility didn’t see the need to have a variety of uniform sizes available for the prisoners. His shackles were removed and he was handed a bedroll made of three-inch-thick foam rubber and held tight by magnetic bands. A small pouch containing basic grooming tools completed the ensemble.
Two grubby-looking inmates spotted him immediately and sauntered over, towering over the smaller Human by a foot or more. They showed no fear of the guard and instead moved closer to block Coop’s way.
“Fresh meat,” said a yellow-skinned alien with a row of tiny horns projecting from his bony forehead.
“Yes,” said his slightly shorter companion, a grey-skinned creature of a different species. “And fresh meat need no sleeping pad.” He reached out and grabbed Coop’s bedroll. The Human held on, not letting it go.
“I believe I need this,” Coop said with a grin. “And I’ll be keeping it.”
“This is a Human,” horn-head said. “I’ve seen them on the broadcasts. This must be one of the smaller varieties, a runt. Give us the pad.”
Copernicus had his fist hidden under the bedroll, and when the smaller alien made another grab at it, Coop lashed out, with the speed and force Humans were known for, yet had to constantly demonstrate to a slow-learning galaxy. He caught the alien under the chin and drove splintered bone into his pea-sized brain. Without so much as a grunt, the creature’s eyes turned pale grey, and the alien timbered to the stone floor like a fallen tree, stiff and rigid, and dead on arrival. Horn-head staggered back, having not seen the hit that killed his companion. Coop turned to face him, a thin grin on his face, ready for round two. But the alien wasn’t biting. He attempted a look of defiance that fell flat before he turned and walked away, leaving his friend lying where he fell.
Coop looked up at the towering
, silent guard and grinned. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Just doing my part to help Panorius save money on inmate upkeep.”
After the guard left, Copernicus checked the pouch to see if anything inside could be fashioned into a weapon. To his surprise, he found a scrub brush with a plastic handle that could be made into a decent shiv. The warden didn’t care if the inmates killed each other—in fact, he encouraged it—at least for the first two hundred days. After that, Copernicus conceded, he would probably be too weak to start a fight with any of the inmates. He’d been around the galaxy long enough to know how fast muscles atrophied in weak gravity, knowledge which instilled a sense of urgency in Coop’s planning.
The other item in the pouch was a washcloth. He looked around the room and spotted a row of small holes in the floor off to his left next to the lounge area. Steady streams of water flowed from pipes in the wall and traveled along channels in the floor before disappearing into the holes. A few inmates were in the area, some squatted over the holes while others used the recycled water to bathe themselves with the washcloths. Then one of the aliens at the holes stood up and used his cloth to wipe himself.