Alien Assassin (The Human Chronicles -- Book Two)

by T. R. Harris

  Even though their original bloodline had come from people like David, as far as he could tell, none of the 2G’s had ever set foot on Earth. They seemed to display a much stronger bond with the Klin than they did with their fellow Humans, which was understandable. While David felt almost a paternal attachment to the 2G’s, he never got the sense that the familial bond was reciprocal.

  “Admiral, we have new contacts,” Josh Newberry, David’s tactical officer said calmly from behind him. On the tact screen, David was shown the graphic representation of over 20 streaks of gravity wells rising up from the surface of Dimloe. “It appears as though the pirates are joining the fight,” Newberry said.

  David simply raised his eyebrows. Although their firepower was not needed, he was frankly surprised to see the pirates choose sides. Throughout most of their existence, the pirates had essentially operated unmolested by the Juireans. The Fringe was such an inconsequential part of The Expansion – until now – that the Juireans really didn’t give a rat’s ass what happened here. So the pirates really had no beef with the Juireans.

  That had all changed a few months back, when their base on K’ly had been attacked. In the intervening months, David had observed, undetected, as the pirates went about setting up a new base on Dimloe.

  David was sure the pirates weren’t even aware of the Human’s existence on Dimloe until only moments before. David nodded. The addition of the pirates to the battle would introduce another element into the rigid Juirean battle plan, and every bit of unpredictability would only add to the Juireans confusion. The Juireans were far too-regimented in their thinking to deal effectively with chaotic and every-changing events. That was part of the battle plan David had devised.

  And it was all about to start – NOW!

  Chapter Eleven

  Fleet Commander Siegor watched on the extreme long-range viewer as the first engagement occurred. Three of his cruisers opened fire on two of the Klin disk-shaped ships, yet as the concentrated balls of blue-white electricity struck the hulls, they simply shimmered, and the space around the ships was filled with thousands of flashing stars of light. The Klin ships then opened up with bolts of their own, which struck Siegor’s ships with an awesome fury. His ships held their ground, absorbing the brunt of the attack relatively unscathed. But Siegor also knew that most of their diffusion shields had been overloaded by the intense electric charge of the bolts.

  Suddenly, a secondary array of bolts lashed out from the Klin, striking two of his own ships. These new bolts broke through the surface of the hulls and burned gaping holes in the metal skin of his ships. The two injured cruisers began to move away, leaving the battle. Then the two Klin ships concentrated their fire on Siegor’s remaining ship of the three, and in a moment the viewscreen was filled with the intense white light of an explosion.

  Siegor was shocked. He had never seen a Juirean ship explode. From behind him, he heard the soft murmurs around the bridge as others reacted to the scene. “Maintain your posts!” he shouted. “Deploy the platforms on opposite sides of the corridor. Now!”

  On the main screen, Siegor watched as dozens of blue and red circles began to intermingle. The blue circles, signifying the Klin, were bouncing about and in all directions, while his own forces tried to maintain a line across the corridor. He watched as massive bolts flared out from the launching platforms. A few of the intense bolts struck the Klin ships, and he felt immense relief as some of the blue circles disappeared from his screen.

  And now the smaller targets from the surface began to engage. A tech had designated them with green circles, and they, too, did not seem to follow any prescribed course or obvious line of attack.

  Calls soon began to come in from various parts of the fleet with reports of damage, while runners approached Siegor with casualty estimates. Of his forty-nine ships, five had been completely destroyed and nine were damaged to such a degree that they had been rendered useless in the battle. Of the twenty-eight Klin ships and twenty-three other smaller vessels, six of those had been destroyed or left the battle scene. The firepower was too quickly approaching parity.

  On the screen, eight Juirean ships were being harassed by three of the Klin ships, along with seven of the smaller green contacts, fighting it out over the airless and desolate surface of the largest moon of Dimloe. The Juireans had managed to form a line and were concentrating fire on the lead Klin ship. Three of the green targets disappeared from Siegor’s screen, and a few of the non-Juireans on the bridge actually let out muted cheers. Then four of their own ships vanished from the screen.

  Siegor fell back into his command chair to watch the battle unfold. He had already lost nearly a third of his force, and although there appeared to be some areas where the Juireans were at least holding their own, there were others where his red circles were falling back, growing ever closer to his own position at the head of the corridor. Soon he would have to start making contingency plans.

  The latest runner approached and handed him a screen-chip. The attackers were down to thirty-three ships, including the smaller contacts, but it appeared as though most of the enemy losses were to the smaller contacts. His force was down to twenty-three ships. He’d lost nearly half of his command in only a few minutes!

  Knowing that he could never return to face Overlord Yan’wal after such a staggering defeat, Siegor prepared to have his own ship enter the fray.

  But then something began to happen on the screen before him…

  Riyad sat strapped into the pilot seat of his ship, gripping the control stick tight in his right hand. He twisted it forward and to the right, sending his ship in a tight spiral straight for the Juirean battle cruiser. He lined up the sites on the targeting computer in front of him, and pressed the button on the stick.

  He blinked as an intense bolt of electricity shot out from his ship and coursed its way toward the target. The bolt struck the Juirean ship just below the bridge and burned through the remaining diffusion screen on the hull. It wasn’t a kill shot, but the next one should do the trick.

  As he swept around to make what he hoped would be the last shot on the Juirean cruiser, he was beginning to think that joining the battle may not have been such a good idea after all. Even if the Klin did succeed in driving off the Juireans, they would be back, and in more strength than before. But his own forces would never recover.

  Riyad’s whole world had changed over the past hour. He had easily lost over half his ships, ships that would be virtually impossible to replace. And the crews! It would take him years to bring together enough of the unique beings that made up a gang of pirates; you couldn’t just pick them up on any planet. Pirates were a rare breed, and now their numbers had been decimated. It would be a long time – if ever – before they would be the feared Fringe Pirates again.

  And even though it looked as if the Klin might prevail in this battle, this was just the beginning of the war. The Klin had proven that they could take on a superior Juirean force. The Juireans would learn from this engagement…

  Just then, Riyad saw four of the Klin ships disappear from his screen. And as he lined up for the final shot on the stricken Juirean ship in his sites, the Juirean cruiser itself let loose with a bolt of its own aimed at a Klin ship on his wing. But instead of turning to face the oncoming bolt, the Klin ship actually flipped up, exposing its vulnerable underbelly. The bolt impacted the hull and penetrated straight through, as if the diffusion screen had been deactivated! The ship exploded on his right.

  Distracted by the explosion, Riyad overshot his target. He banked left and headed toward the smaller second moon of Dimloe. Something was happening here that he didn’t understand. He needed time evaluate. The Klin, and his own forces – what was left of them – had the Juireans on the ropes. But now they appeared to be intentionally throwing the fight!

  David Sidwell’s jaw dropped as he witnessed the first of his fleet turn belly-up and accept the bolt from the Juirean battle platform. His mood then turned to panic as he saw four more
of his surviving ships suddenly flare bright on the tact screen and disappear.

  Opening a communication channel to the surviving members of his fleet, David barely got out the first syllable before he felt the burning sting of the beam from a miniature laser weapon enter his back just below his neck. He slumped in his chair, and felt the life begin to drain from his body. Then a figure moved into his line of sight. It was Kyle Ross, looking as calm and emotionless as ever – and holding a laser weapon.

  David’s eyes just looked at him, as his mouth tried to form the word “Why?” But no sound came out.

  “You have served our race well, Mr. Sidwell. Now it is our turn to take over.” Ross watched as the gray glaze of death filled the eyes of David Sidwell, before reaching over to the comm console and opening a channel to the Juirean fleet.

  Fleet Commander Siegor had lifted out of his seat and moved closer to the battle screen. He, too, had seen the tide of the battle turn, but he only saw it in relation to the blue, red and green circles on his screen. His forces now outnumbered the Klin easily two to one. He could count nine, then eight, then seven of the remaining Klin ships. And many of the smaller green ones had already bolted out of the area.

  Just then his communication officer called out to him. “Commander, we have a transmission coming in from the Klin!”

  “Aloud!” Siegor commanded.

  “To the Juirean commander. We are offering ourselves for surrender. We have one remaining battleship. It is my flagship. Please do not fire upon it.”

  “Cease action!” he called out.

  Siegor had his victory. Now he would have his prisoners.

  Riyad picked up the same communication just a last stray bolt from a Juirean cruiser struck the aft section of his ship. His generators went offline, and he felt the sickening surge of weightlessness overtake him and the remaining five crewmembers on the bridge. Reluctantly, Riyad pressed the survival beacon on his command console. All he could do now was wait to see if the Juireans would honor an offer of surrender in the case of his ship, too.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Juireans did honor Riyad’s surrender code, and seven hours after the conclusion of the battle, an armed shuttle secured itself to his airlock and a squad of heavily armed beings came aboard.

  There were four Juireans and two other beings Riyad did not recognize. Once they were satisfied that Riyad and his five crewmembers were unarmed, they were all shackled and transported to the Juirean command ship.

  A green-maned Juirean Guard stood stoically in the loading hanger, holding a datapad and scanning each prisoner as they went by with another hand-held device. Riyad’s crew exited first. They were scanned and then lead off to a section of the hanger some fifty meters away. The Guard then scanned Riyad, barely looking at him as he did so. Suddenly he looked up from his pad and eyed Riyad up and down. And then after tapping something into the pad, he called for several of the other guards to remove him from the hanger and take him to the holding cell – with the others.

  And as Riyad was leaving the hanger, he chanced a glance back at his crewmembers – just as they were shot to death by the Juirean Guards…

  The holding cell within the Juirean starship was simply at large stateroom with a segregated grooming area and a single bed. There were six guards armed with flash rifles in the corridor outside the room, and once they removed his shackles and shoved him in the room, they shut and secured the door behind him.

  Inside the room was the last thing Riyad ever expected to see. Milling around near the center of the room, with a few sitting on the bed, were at least dozen or so Human beings! He was stunned. In the past seven years, he had only seen a total of four other humans – the three on the slave ship when he was first taken, and then Adam Cain. Now here was a whole soccer team worth of Humans.

  And no one was paying him any special attention.

  Riyad moved into the room and approached the first grouping of men. They stopped their conversation and turned to look at him with blank, emotionless expressions.

  “Hello, my friends!” he said, taking the hand of the nearest man and shaking it vigorously. The man just let Riyad do it, with no return effort on his part. “I’m Riyad Tarazi. I am so glad to see so many of my fellow Humans.”

  A tall, red-hair young man, looking to be about twenty-five or thirty stepped over to the group and pulled Riyad aside. He looked seriously into Riyad’s eyes. “I am Kyle Ross. I am the leader here. Who are you?”

  “Like I said, I’m Riyad Tarazi. I’m from Lebanon originally, but I’ve been out here for almost seven years. How many other Humans are there in your group? Do you know the way back to Earth?”

  Ross grabbed his arm, squeezing it tightly, and shoved him against the wall. Then leaning in closer, Ross said, “You are not of our group. You are a native. You are not supposed to be here.” His voice was a growl, and Riyad noticed several other men as they moved in around him.

  “No, I am not one of you. I was with the Fringe Pirates who fought with you against the Juireans.” Riyad was growing nervous. These were other men, other Humans, so his strength advantage was gone. He would have to be careful.

  “I was not aware there were any Humans with the pirates,” Ross stated as Riyad noticed him relax a little. “I apologize. It’s just that I know all the surviving Humans and you were not one of them. You could have been a spy for the Juirean scum.”

  “I’m no fucking spy! I was the leader of the Fringe Pirates, and I sent my crews up to help you.”

  Ross nodded, and several of the other men moved in closer still. “Now it begins to make more sense. We have noticed how much more effective the pirates have become over the past several years. Were you responsible for that?”

  “Yes! Yes, I was!” Riyad figured he had to curry favor quickly with these other men before their suspicions and paranoia got the best of them. After the trauma of the battle, and the loss of their companions, Riyad figured they must all be on the edge and near the breaking point. “I have been in charge for the past five years or so. You know time is so hard to tell out here.”

  Riyad watch as a puzzled look crossed Ross’s face, but then quickly vanished. “The Juireans will soon be coming to question us,” Ross stated. “You must not say anything about your relationship to us.”

  “That’s fine. No problem.” Then in a whisper, “But where are the Klin? Did any of them survive, too?”

  Several of the other men crushed in next to him, before Ross leaned in only a nose-length from Riyad. “You must not mention the Klin. I will do all the talking regarding them. Do you understand?”

  Riyad just nodded quickly. It had been such a long time since he felt really outmatched, yet these hulking Humans looked serious – and unafraid. Again, he had to step very lightly around them.

  Then as quickly as the conversation had started, it was over. The men turned their backs on him and returned to their original clusters or positions around the room, leaving Riyad pressed up against the wall, with more questions than when he’d first entered the room. These men were not normal. They showed no surprise at seeing another Human; on the contrary, they actually seemed upset that he was there. After having his pirate fleet completely crushed, then watching the battle turn abruptly in favor of the Juireans – and now this – Riyad was thinking this day couldn’t get any stranger.

  He was wrong.

  Riyad stationed himself near the grooming station and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, just watching. Kyle Ross was definitely the leader; all the other men paid him great respect when he approached and never engaged him in any back and forth dialog.

  A couple of times throughout the two hours he sat there, Juirean guards entered and brought food and drink. The guards were armed, and Riyad could see how the thirteen Humans – plus himself – could have easily overpowered them and taken their weapons. As he played out the scenarios in his head, the former terrorist could see how it would be possible for a small number of vastly stronger, q
uicker and more durable Humans to take over the Juirean ship. Yet no one seemed to be even contemplating a plan.

  Finally Riyad had had enough. He stood and approached Kyle Ross.

  “Mr. Ross, may I have a word with you?” Riyad said politely, even though he was seething inside.

  Ross turned slowly from his group and eyed Riyad up and down, again with a condescending air. The others in the group moved away.

  When Ross didn’t speak, Riyad filled the silence. “I don’t know what the ultimate plan is here, but I’ve seen at least two occasions where we could have overpowered these guards and gotten the hell out of here. Do you have any plan at all, or are we just going to sit here and let the Juireans call the shots?”

  Again, Ross did not immediately speak up. Then: “We are on the Juirean Fleet Commander’s flagship. We would not stand a chance if we attempted to escape—”

  “Excuse me – but bullshit!” Riyad said. “I know for a fact that the fourteen of us are every bit the equal of a hundred Juireans. I don’t understand why we’re not doing anything.”

  “You do not have to understand. You are not part of our group. You were not asked to interfere in the battle, and therefore you do not have any input.” Then he paused for effect before continuing. “You have lived a life among the aliens, and you are a native-born.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Ross ignored his question and continued. “You have no concept as to the events you are attempting to influence. I respect the fact that you are a fellow Human being, but that fact will only allow you a certain latitude as to your presence here. Now once again, I will tell you not to interfere, and to let the events play out as they should.” Ross then turned on his heel and walked away.