by T. R. Harris
“All I know is these meteorites and things began to fall about a cig-cycle ago,” the terrified alien replied. “Everything began to explode and burn.”
“How many days – rotations of your planet – is a cig-cycle,” Adam asked. It was important for him to determine how long ago the mystery fleet had passed near the system. He was pretty sure they weren’t Human, and if that were true, then that only left the bad guys and their fleet of twenty capital starships, heading in the direction of Earth.
The native frowned. “Rotations?” he questioned, but then his eyes grew wide. “You mean migrets! Five, it was five migrets – rotations.”
Adam had found that most planets with a certain mass and size tend to rotate at roughly the same speed, making days fairly uniform for Prime-supporting worlds. Planets that rotated too quickly had rapidly changing climate cycles which made it hard for life to evolve. And slowly rotating worlds had even more extreme variations between hot and cold. Only worlds with days averaging twenty-two to twenty-six hours appeared to support Prime – or Humanoid – life. And so far, only Prime life could build starships and move about the galaxy.
Now Adam had his answer: About five days ago a squadron comprised of approximately twenty capital ships of an unknown origin had bolted past this system, on full deep-wells and without regard to the damage they would cause. There were only a few alien species who possessed the technology necessary to build Class-4 or larger starships – and who also had the callous and heartless emotions to destroy entire star systems. Adam could think of three: the Klin, the Kracori … and even the Juireans. A squadron of warships from any one of these three would be a disaster in the making.
He pulled the alien a little closer. “Did any of the Humans survive – the aliens at the consulate who look like me?”
The native averted his eyes.
“It’s a simple question,” Adam said, his patience running thin. “Answer me!”
“There were a few!” the creature yelled out.
“Where are they now?”
Again the creature hesitated. Adam twisted the cloth of the native’s outfit until it began to choke. “They no longer live! I regret … but they no longer live.”
“What happened to them?” Adam already had his suspicions.
“We had never known of alien creatures before your kind arrived and then suddenly our home is being destroyed from rocks falling from the sky. We believed the Humans had brought this upon us. We did what we thought was necessary.”
“You killed them?”
“They were already badly injured. We only helped to end their suffering!”
Adam shoved the alien away; he flew ten feet away and fell to the ground in a puff of ash. “Did any of their spaceships survive?”
After recovering from the unexpected flight he’d just taken, the alien answered. “Two – but we have not been able to make them function. Some of us thought of escaping in them, but we know not how to operate such craft.”
Adam stood over the creature, watching his four arms twitched and his hands clench and unclench. “Show me where they are, show me the ships.”
“Of course, but please do not kill me.”
“You help me … and then I’ll think about it.”
********
The dirty and ash-covered alien led Adam around the large crater where once the Human consulate had stood. Word had spread quickly about Adam’s presence and of the Pegasus, and the handful of natives who chose to expose themselves kept their distance. Around a massive pile of brick and concrete debris, Adam was shown the two squatty inter-system hoppers that had once belonged to the Humans on Arcton. One was pitted with dozens of holes, making it inoperable, even if the natives could have figured out how to pilot the craft. The other one was in better condition, but not much.
Adam ran up to them and checked the focusing ports on the better of the two ships. He could see the focusing rings inside and they appeared to be in good condition. The outer hatch to the ship was open so Adam ran inside and went aft to the small cargo bay and generator room. Once there, he discovered that the damn natives had already stripped the spaceship of most of its lighter-weight items – but they had left a large gripper unit hanging on the bulkhead. Adam pulled it from the wall and then grabbed an empty plastic rations bin before heading for the exit.
Once outside, he placed the bin on the ground and stepped onto it, allowing an eye-level view of the focusing ring chamber. He inserted the gripper, and after a few tries managed to lock onto the focusing ring. He pressed the control on the tool’s handle and felt the gripper begin to unscrew the ring. Soon it was out and he moved on to the next one.
More of the natives had now gained the courage to gather around and it was then that Adam sensed the presence of an energy weapon. He turned from his task and focused on a native carrying an old Xan-Fi flash rifle, probably pulled from the wreckage of the consulate. The creature was lifting the weapon to fire, a sick, wicked grin on his face.
The native pulled back his lips to reveal double rows of sharp, pointed teeth, and then actually growled at Adam. “Come, we can take his spacecraft and force him to fly us away.”
Adam shook his head. “Put that down,” he called out to the alien. “It won’t work on me—”
“It worked on the others of your kind!” And then he pulled the trigger. Frustration – and fear – grew on the face of the alien as the weapon refused to fire.
“I told you. It won’t fire … but I can make it explode!” Adam sent a command to the weapon’s microprocessor to sever the rail-gun feed while also sending the entire charge from the power pack into the loader. The flash rifle began to hum, a sound which grew in pulse-raising intensity over the next few seconds.
The alien dropped the rifle in a panic and ran off, stirring up a cloud of gray dust as he went, and accompanied by several of the other creatures around him. Adam smiled, and sent another command through his telepathy device to cut the power pack. The humming stopped, and Adam turned back to his task.
Five minutes later he had the second focusing ring out and was heading back toward the Pegasus. The original native followed him.
“Take me with you; I do not wish to die.”
“I wish I could,” Adam said over his shoulder, his tone almost flippant. “Not enough room or supplies. Sorry.”
The alien stopped following. “So what will become of us?”
Adam stopped and turned. These aliens had killed the Humans that had survived; he didn’t have much sympathy for them. “The bombardments will continue; the debris that’s falling on your world stretches across your entire system. This is only the beginning.”
“Can’t the Humans do anything to save us?”
“There’s nothing we can to do stop it.”
The creature hung his head. “Then we will all perish. The Ak-u-mors will become extinct.”
Adam stopped and turned around as the reality of the situation suddenly hit home. An entire race of intelligent beings, all dying off over the course of a few short days, was something the Human race had luckily avoided twice before. Was a third strike in the works? “You may not be alone, my friend,” Adam said. “I believe that the same creatures who have destroyed your world fully intend to do the same to mine.”
“If that is so, then I wish you fortune and success if your intention is to stop them. And if you are successful, then please gain some revenge for the Ak-u-mor. We did not deserve this.”
“No you didn’t.” Adam offered a quick nod to the alien. “I will do my best.”
He turned and continued his trek back to the Pegasus.
********
The Arcton native didn’t follow. Instead he sat down on the soft cushion of blowing gray ash and watched as Adam disappeared into the haze of smoke and dust. He hung his head and closed his eyes. In a short time, the deadly rain would begin anew … and this spot seemed as good as any on his doomed world … to die.
********
Three ho
urs later, the Pegasus lifted off the surface of Arcton, the two new focusing rings installed and operating at their capacity. They were of a smaller design so the array would not be able to produce as deep a well as with larger models, but it would be enough to get them back to Earth.
Once in space, it took another twelve hours for them to slowly angle their way out of the debris field before Adam could fully-engage the gravity-drive. He charted the residual gravity waves from the phantom squadron and took off in the same direction as fast as the Pegasus could go. If these were alien warships headed for Earth, then it was crucial he learn their true strength, origin and intentions.
With the CW-array out of commission it was impossible for them forewarn the Earth, and the traditional radio they had onboard was as useless as tits-on-a-boar when it came to interstellar distances.
“So what are you going to do if we catch up to them?” Sherri asked. “We can’t warn anyone.”
“I doubt they’re going to barrel right into the Solar System, not twenty ships against an entire planet. They probably have a staging area set up somewhere and are rendezvousing with their other units. If we can slip and get a look at what we’re up against – and then get out before they deploy – we might be able to get to Earth in time to warn them.”
“Do you really think it’s the Kracori?”
“That’s my bet. Only a couple of months ago we found out Mark had the McCarthy Coordinates, and once Riyad confirms the location, we’ll be sending a force out to destroy their world. This may be a preemptive strike … hit us before we can hit them.”
“So they must still have spies on Earth.”
“Probably the Klin,” Adam said, “which makes sense, too. If the Klin and Kracori are allies again, then we could be in a lot of trouble.”
“Can we catch up to them?”
“They do have a week’s head start … but we do have the Pegasus.” Adam smiled and patted the console in front of him. “Even with the smaller focusing rings, we’re still faster than the fastest class-five out there. Not by much, but still faster. I have the scanners out to max. As soon as we get close, we’ll know.”
“I just hope Arieel’s gift will be enough to keep us from getting blown out of space.”
“A half-mile range isn’t a lot when it comes to distances in space. Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that we won’t come that close to their ships. That wouldn’t be good, not good at all.”
Chapter 16
Nigel McCarthy…
Nigel donned a full pressure suit and set off across the rugged, rocky landscape of Highland for his base. The surface gravity of the planet was very similar to Earth’s – that was the reason he’d selected the planet in the first place – so the going was a struggle. Even though his injuries had healed, he was still out of shape. He was nearing fifty and hadn’t attended to his physical conditioning recently as he had in his younger years.
After a grueling two-hour hike, with sweat pouring down his forehead and the visor of his helmet covered in a fine fog, he finally reached the hidden entrance to the access tunnel that would lead to the base. His headquarters was located in the crusty remains of a massive lava tube left empty after its birth volcano had gone dormant. The tube proved to be a perfect pre-fabricated shelter for his men, needing only a few bulkheads and windows to seal up the complex from the elements.
Within the dormant volcano, several smaller lava tubes also wound their way throughout the mountain. Within one such tunnel, Nigel and Carter had built a secret entrance to the base. The tube stretched over five miles from the opposite side of the mountain until it nearly joined the main tunnel, at a point a few hundred yards from the western bulkhead of the main living quarters. At the nearest point, Nigel and Carter had cut a connecting tube and sealed it against detection.
The five-mile long section of the tube leading to this connection point was open to the elements, yet a pair of electric carts, along with weapons and rations had been placed near the entrance. Nigel stocked up on the weapons and ammo and then boarded one of the carts for the ride to the other side of the mountain.
During the hour-long journey, Nigel managed to regain some of his strength, and by the time he reached the end of the tunnel he felt he was ready for just about anything.
The heavy metal airlock door was covered in a thick coating of sticky dust and Nigel had to feel along its surface to find the control pad. He brushed away the dust and was thrilled to see the steady green light on the panel. After three years of non-use, it was possible that something might have failed within the system. He fingered in the secret access code – his mother’s birthday – and the locks on the door snapped open.
He pulled on the door with all his strength, fighting against the resistance of the dust-covered hinges, until he had an opening large enough to squeeze through. He pulled the door shut again and entered another code for the tiny room to fill with life-giving atmosphere. Once the lights on the interior panel had all cycled back to green, Nigel removed the stifling hot helmet and dropped it to the granite floor of the airlock. He then pressed the button to open the door.
He stepped into a large, cavernous tunnel with a set of fluorescent lights set high on the ceiling. The level floor of this part of the base was now covered with a thin layer of undisturbed dust indicating that no one had ventured to this part of the base for a very long time.
He quickly discarded the rest of his pressure suit giving him more mobility as well as relief from the added weight of the outfit. He placed an ammo belt around his waist and slung a Remington Model 1100 Tac-4 shotgun over his shoulder. And then with a Mac-10 .45-caliber machine gun in his hand he began to move further down the tunnel.
This part of the base contained the environmental equipment, including the air and water purifiers. This equipment was of alien-design, and therefore, set to run automatically for years on end. Beyond this were storage rooms for food supplies, spare parts and the like. The ammo dump came next, situated next to the living quarters for his troops, designed to give the men ready access to some incredible firepower should the need arise.
It was here that he would have to be very careful. It was a good bet that some of the Humans at the base would be found here, off-duty and lounging in or near their quarters or even asleep between watches.
Nigel moved along the rough rock wall as he neared the living quarters. Each side of the tunnel widened here as individual living quarters had been cut into the solid rock. The large central area was filled with chairs, couches and tables, with a long food processing station running along one wall and a bank of four television monitors lining the other. Over the years, Nigel had acquired a fair number of DVD’s and music CD’s from his sources throughout the galaxy, giving his men a little taste of home, so this area of the base was always the most-popular.
But no one was here.
The entire area was quiet as a tomb, even displaying a thin layer of dust on parts of the floor and furniture. In fact, the number of faint footprints that could be made out in what dust there was had obviously been made a long time ago.
Nigel looked in several of the private quarters and found them all vacant, although clothing and other personal belongings still filled the rooms.
So where is everyone? Could they all be gone, off on a mission somewhere, ordered by the new leader of his outlaws?
He moved further along the lava tube a little quicker this time, believing now that if anyone still remained at the base, they would be fewer in number and something he could easily handle, especially since he had the element of surprise.
The next major compartment he came to was his own quarters. He entered cautiously, knowing that any new leader would have claimed his suite for himself. It was the biggest and most elaborate accommodations on the entire planet, a place Nigel had spared no expense in constructing. Yet as he entered, he found this part of the base to be vacant as well.
Now he began to worry. If any of his men remained, then someone would have
claimed his quarters. So had he returned to an abandoned base? If so, then why was the power on, the heat set and the atmosphere still circulating?
He moved to the labs next and the alien quarters where his scientists had once labored.
He entered the main lab and found a completely different scene than he witnessed so far. Here everything was clean and sterile, with bright lights shining and the smell of alien occupancy almost overwhelmingly present. At least his scientists were still here, if not presently in view. He began to pick up a slight trace, an awareness sitting at the edge of consciousness.
He entered the room where his chief scientist, Kronis Nur, would normally be seated, his incredible mass easily supported on the four massive legs native to his kind. He was a heavy-worlder as well, yet sloth-like in his movements, as were most beings from high-gravity planets – with the notable exception of Humans and Kracori. This room was also vacant—
Just then the door to the room slid shut and the locks engaged. Nigel turned to the metal door and raised his Mac-10. Through the large glass wall of the room, Nigel saw Kronis, as well as his two other scientists shuffle into view. Kronis, especially, carried a sinister smile on his face, or what passed as a sinister smile on the face of a Vizzen. Yet it wasn’t the smile that set Nigel’s heart to pounding and caused his breath to come in short gasps. It was the sight of the shiny metal medallion Kronis Nur had draped around his thick neck.
The alien was wearing one of the artificial telepathy devices like they had built for him.
Anger replaced his initial fear, and he opened up with the Mac-10 on the glass wall of the office. The deafening sound of round and after round striking the bullet-proof glass and confined to the small space of the lab caused Nigel to let loose with a primal scream. Soon the twenty-two rounds in the magazine were spent and the thick haze of white smoke nearly obscured Nigel from those outside the room. Nigel gripped the useless weapon so tight in his hand that his knuckles turned white. He glared at the smug alien through the window.
