by T. R. Harris
Nigel had expected the Juireans to launch some sort action against him; he just hadn’t expected it to occur so soon. So they’ve placed assassins aboard. What these bloody bastards don’t know is that I’ll be ready for them.
He followed the weapon’s trace deeper into the massive ship, down four levels and to the cargo bay. The six targets were now in a room just off the main chamber, probably planning their assault against him. They would be unaware that he was already in position to strike.
He had armed himself with a Xan-Fi flash rifle, along with his omnipresent black-handled commando knife strapped to his calf. This should be easy….
He approached the door to the room while hugging a side wall, flash rifle held high against his chest. There was light coming from inside, visible through a small window set in the door. Nigel did a quick peak inside; there was a stack of gear bags on the table, and two of the flash weapons next to them. He didn’t see any of the assassins, but that didn’t mean they weren’t inside. He reached down toward the depression in the door that served as a handle; he tensed and prepared for entry—
Just then three sharp pains erupted from his right shoulder and chest; when he looked down, he saw the three silver darts stuck within his shirt. Since he wasn’t wearing a flak vest or other type of protection, he knew the projectiles had penetrated his skin.
Nigel ran past the door to the storage room and dove behind a stack of crates before any more darts could find their target. The fact that his assailants were using non-lethal weapons meant they intend to take him alive – and they had also used the signature of the flash weapons to lure him to the cargo hold. This raised a whole new set of scenarios.
So the Juireans were aware of the capabilities of his medallion. He should’ve known better not to underestimate the bloody bastards; they didn’t get to their position in the galaxy by being stupid.
He pulled the darts from his skin and lifted one to his nose. He could pick up the slight trace of a medicinal smell, but had no way of knowing what kind of drug the darts had been laced with. Could the Juireans know what was necessary to take down a Human? Again, he had to assume they did.
Just then he noticed a slight blurring of his peripheral vision as the drug began to circulate within his body. He tried to calm his heartbeat, but it wasn’t easy. An adrenalin shot would help counter the effects of the drug, yet he was aboard an alien spacecraft, and even if he was able to make it to a medical station, he had no way of reading labels written in Juirean.
He needed time to think – and for the drug to wear off – but we was sure the agents would not give him the opportunity. Already he could hear the shuffling of heavy feet on the metal deck as they closed on his position.
It was a good bet these agents were not Juireans; the gravity aboard the ship would be too high for them to operate effectively. So these would be heavy-worlders; strong yet slow if the trend held true. After all, what set Humans and Kracori apart from the rest of the galaxy was that they were both swift and agile within their native gravities. He quickly thought of a way to slow the lumbering beasts down even more – even though he would be affected as well.
He reached out with his medallion and located the gravity control for this section of the ship, and with a mental command cranked it up to four times the current level.
Besides the creaking of the walls and deck around him, along with the collapsing of fragile shelving not built to withstand such force, Nigel could hear faint moaning within the room coming from living creatures. He was himself compressed on the deck, his muscles now having to accommodate his over eight-hundred pound weight. He lay back on the deck and closed his eyes, struggling to breathe and feeling the effects of the drug now consume most of his senses. The drug would actually help him by saving his body from the pain associated with the heavier gravity.
He would rest now, calming his heart rate as best he could and hoping the aliens in the room would be equally handicapped. All he needed were a few minutes to let the drug do its worse before allowing his body to recover. Just a little time was all he needed….
He managed not to lose consciousness entirely, and so he was aware of the groans coming from the fatigued aliens. One in particular was extremely pronounced and originated from across the huge cargo hold. This was near where the gravity controls were located, and Nigel knew one of his assailants was attempting to reach the controls. The creature was having a hard time of it, and Nigel was still able to retain enough awareness through his medallion that he knew he could counter any action should the alien reach the control panel. At least he could if he remained conscious.
The drug was now affecting all his muscles and not just his eyesight. He was becoming stiff and unable to move even his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he had taken an adequate dose of the drug to achieve the alien’s desired effect, or if it was a just combination of the drug and the gravity that was limiting his movements. He just hoped the aliens wouldn’t be able to reach him. If they did, he would be defenseless and vulnerable.
He had trouble keeping track of time, as he was sure now that he had lapsed into unconsciousness briefly from time to time as he lay on the deck. But then he became aware of a tingling in his extremities. He could now move his toes and his fingers – his senses were returning!
Another few minutes passed and his vision began to clear. Still the oppressive gravity held him captive to floor. He struggled to roll over, and was rewarded with a clearing of his head. He discarded the heavy flash rifle and began to crawl across the deck, zeroing in on the nearest moaning that still could be heard in the cargo bay.
In his distant past on back on Earth, Nigel McCarthy had experienced his share of 4G rides in various RAF aircraft. This wasn’t too hard to tolerate for brief periods, at least not while sitting in the cockpit of a fighter jet and wearing a pressure suit. But now he had suffered the crippling weight for an extended period of time – how long he had no idea. But still he crawled, hand over hand, leg after leg, to make his way an undetermined distance and seek out an unknown enemy. He had to find out what he was up against.
In his younger days, this exercise would not have been too difficult, but now he was almost fifty and had let his physical condition wane over the past few years. Yet still he managed to crawl around the crates and across a still-hidden section of deck toward the closest moaning sound.
Behind a cluster of propellant barrels, Nigel found a dark brown creature pressed against the floor. The alien was shaped like a long salamander with four very thick legs and two stubby arms projecting from the front torso. The beast’s head was large and scaly with a bony carapace Nigel knew his commando blade would have trouble penetrating.
The alien spotted him with his yellow eyes and attempted to lift his dart gun in Nigel’s direction. It was obvious the creature was in terrible pain, and before the weapon could be properly aimed, McCarthy reached him. The struggle that ensued was awkward and almost comical in a way, yet Nigel still managed to turn the long creature over onto its back, exposing the soft underbelly of the alien. He pulled his knife from its sheath and proceeded to eviscerate the hapless being by slicing it open from groin to neck.
McCarthy found himself covered in the red blood of the beast, mixed with dark green innards with a strong, putrid odor. Combined with the chemicals still present in his body, and the overpowering stench of the alien insides wafting up from the floor, Nigel didn’t even resist the urge to vomit. He let loose with heavy surge after surge that joined with the disgusting concoction already covering the deck and making for a smell that defied description.
However, the purging of his stomach did help to counter even more of the effects of the drug, and Nigel felt much better afterwards. He reached out with his awareness and reduced the gravity level to a mere twice that of Earth normal. The sudden drop in his weight from eight hundred pounds to only four hundred, gave him a sudden surge of energy and strength that allowed him to stand and lumber his way toward the location where he’d heard
other moaning before.
It wasn’t long before he happened upon a second salamander-like alien. This creature was experiencing the same surge of relief from the lessened gravity, but this is where the quickness of a Human had its advantages. Nigel reactions were much faster than the alien’s, and he was able to strike out with his knife and slashed the tender neck of the creature before it could sound an alarm or lift its squatty arms in defense.
His attacker fell the short distance it had to go to reach the floor, while gurgling sounds escaped from its severed throat.
Nigel had to assume that since he was lured to the cargo hold by six flash weapons that his assailants numbered six in total, and if this were true, then he still had four of the beasts to locate and dispatch. He now regretted leaving the heavy flash rifle behind – yet he did know where at least two others were located: in the decoy room about fifty feet to his right.
He stood and braced himself against a cold metal bulkhead – and then with a command through his medallion, he cut all the gravity to the rear section of the Class-5 starship.
Now free of the restraints of gravity, Nigel kicked off the bulkhead and flew across the room. He slammed into the door to the side room and quickly activated the controls that caused the panel to slide open. He pulled himself inside just a two metal darts ricocheted around him.
He grabbed both of the MK-17 flash handguns from the table as he drifted by and then kicked off the rear bulkhead of the room and was sent flying back out into the vast expanse of the cargo hold. He soared high above the floor and up to a vantage point where he could easily see the four other brown aliens flailing about in the zero gravity. These creatures were not built for maneuvering in weightlessness, and their long bodies only served to send them twisting in the air with each turn of their torsos. Still, they were each armed with a dart gun, and they did their best to lock onto Nigel’s now distant figure near the ceiling of the room.
McCarthy braced himself against an upper support and aimed the MK he held in his right hand. Two Level-2 blue and white bolts shot from the barrel and toward one of the aliens below. The first one missed, but not the second. The white-hot ball of energy didn’t kill the alien, but it did cause him immense pain as evidenced by the primal scream now filling the chamber. Nigel flicked the bolt level up to Level-1 and fired again. This time the bolt penetrated the thick skin of the alien and the screaming stopped.
The other three agents were gyrating in wild movements, attempting to literally swim in the air of the cargo hold. Nigel took aim with the second weapon and one-shot, one-kill later his opponents now numbered only two.
While he was occupied with trying to lock his aim on the next alien, Nigel’s medallion detected an energy surge from below. Looking around, he noticed that the final alien had withdrawn an electronic device from his uniform and had powered up the unit.
A dart hit the ceiling near him; Nigel turned his attention back to the other alien and with another accurate shot from the MK, sent this one to whatever these salamanders had for a heaven.
The last agent now hid behind a heavy-equipment loader, yet the electronic device he was operating gave away his location. Nigel kicked from the ceiling and drifted down toward the loader. He kept the last MK held firmly in his grip and aimed at where the alien was hiding. In his zero-gravity freefall, this was when he was the most vulnerable.
The alien stayed hidden and Nigel was able to reach out with his free hand and pull his body down to the deck behind the loader. The alien saw him drop down a few feet away, and yet he continued to enter data into the device rather than pulling his dart gun.
Nigel slammed into the beast, knocking the device from his hand.
“What did you just do? What was that device?”
Normal gravity suddenly returned to the room, and without skipping a beat, Nigel stepped forward and shoved the barrel of the MK against the alien’s forehead.
“Talk, dammit!”
“Our orders were to capture you and bring you back to Lord Wydor.”
Nigel sensed something unsaid. “And having failed at that ….?”
“I just sent a message to the Council.”
“Go on; what do they think they can do from…?” It seemed as though all the blood rushed from his head; the alien verified his worst nightmare.
“If we could not take you alive, then the Juireans will detonate the bombs that are aboard the ships.” Even though most defeated beings, when faced with a scenario such as this, would revel in the shock that crossed Nigel’s face, this creature only showed concern. He was not about to gloat, not when his own life was about to be end – along with Nigel’s.
“How much time?” Nigel shoved the barrel of the handgun even harder against the alien’s head.
“I do not know. That was a CW-link sent through your ship’s system. The Juireans are receiving it now. It will be they who activate the destruct.”
Anger flared in Nigel, and he reeled back with the MK before sending it crashing into the skull of the alien, nearly splitting it in half and sending even more muck and brain matter into the room.
McCarthy rushed out of the cargo hold and into the hangar bay immediately adjacent the cargo hold. His Exitor had been loaded aboard – you can never have too many starships was McCarthy’s motto – and using the medallion, the side port hatch was open and waiting for him by the time he arrived. The generators were charging and the doors to the bay were already opening by the time he reached the pilothouse.
His ship began to screech toward the every-widening gap in the hangar doors as the atmosphere was sucked out and into space, taking everything in the landing bay with it. But Nigel didn’t wait to be sucked out; instead he initiated a shallow gravity-well while still inside the hangar bay.
The effect was amazing. The whole rear section of the mighty Class-5 warship suddenly disappeared, having been swallowed by the blackhole created a mile beyond the hangar doors, and Nigel found himself suddenly clear of the warcraft and in a cloud of trailing debris that had once been the aft section of the Class-5 starship.
Just then the Exitor was hit by a staggeringly-powerful shockwave created by the exploding Class-4’s around him. Nigel was slammed back in his chair as the small craft was jolted forward, riding the shockwave. Lights flickered and then went out. Having no time to secure his safety harness, Nigel was suddenly flying forward, leaving the pilotseat and crashing his head into the forward display.
Everything went dark, and suddenly he found that he didn’t care about a goddamn thing anymore. Nothing. Anymore. In the moment before losing consciousness, Nigel felt the most-incredible calmness from within, and in his blurry grayness of thought and vision, Nigel believed he’s finally found the peace and tranquility that had forever evaded him.
********
Nigel’s blissful state of unconsciousness didn’t last long, and when reality returned he felt a sick hollowness permeating his well-being.
It was all gone; the money, his ships, everything. He was now right back where he’d started; one ship … and penniless. Yet what made this reality so different from the one just before was that for a few brief hours he had actually been the richest damn bastard in the entire galaxy! Now it was all gone – again. He had nothing, nothing but….
Nigel smiled out at the vast blackness of space revealing itself through the viewport of the Exitor; it was not a smile of joy, but one of wry cleverness.
He did possess one last thing of value – he always seemed to have this, and it could possibly save him, again.
He had information to sell. He had used information to gain his freedom from Cain’s henchmen. And he’d used information to briefly get the upper-hand with the backstabbing Juireans. Now he had another morsel of information that he just might be able to peddle. And he knew just the person who might be grateful to receive it.
He set a course for the planet Juir.
Chapter 41
With the Human Fleet near Duelux…
Gener
al Alan Larson stared at the faces of the other officers in the wardroom and knew the feeling was unanimous. It wasn’t hard to discern; they were all disgusted and frustrated. The trap had been set – and they had stepped right into it.
“The question now is how do we proceed?” the General stated, his gravelly voice more pronounced than normal from all the yelling he’d done behind closed doors just prior to the start of the staff meeting. “We are a month – at least – away from Earth, so for the time being, we can render it no assistance – and that is assuming we forget about the Jusepi threat and head straight home.”
“Can we even do that, General?” asked his second-in-command, Admiral Brian Sears. “Our mission is to destroy the Jusepi forces, and like it or not, that threat is real, if seemingly insignificant now in light of the Kracori attack on Earth.”
“Exactly, Brian,” Larson said. “All the intel indicates that the Klin are assisting the Jusepi and that the timing of the revolt was not random. Any time the Klin and Kracori start working together, you know it’s serious. And now they have a third ally, which makes the Jusepi just as dangerous.”
“General, my analysts estimate that our campaign against the Jusepi could take up to six months or more.” Commander Len Smith looked up from his data pad. “With the failure of the Kracori attack on Earth, that just gives them more time to prepare for our inevitable response.”
Larson nodded. “They’ll know we’re coming, and that’s for sure. And if you factor in transit time, we could be looking at a year or more before striking Elision. That’s too much time to give an enemy to prepare.”
“What about the Cain gravity-drive?” This came from the Chief Engineer, Captain Owen Crist. “A refit of the fleet could mean reaching Elision in a month, rather than six.”
“That’s an option, Captain, but it would require our return to Earth, plus the time to refit the fleet. The planet’s pretty torn up; I’m hoping most of our industrial capacity is still intact.”
