Alien Games (The Human Chronicles Saga Book 17)

by T. R. Harris

  He ducked back inside when four Nuoreans ran past, energy weapons in their hands, heading in the direction of the landing bay. When he’d been brought to the cell earlier, he’d memorized the route. The hangar deck was to his left, but it would be the first place they’d expect him to go, as evidenced by the detail rushing in that direction.

  Adam needed a weapon and a layout of the ship. One person, intent on wreaking havoc, could really mess up the works. But what good would that do? This was just one ship out of what was undoubtedly a very large fleet. He had to think.

  If he couldn’t get off the ship—and it wouldn’t do any good to disable it—all that was left was to take out the leader. That was always a good idea. Disrupt the chain of command and see what happens. It was also the last thing the aliens would be expecting. And Adam Cain had a pretty good idea who their leader was.

  This thinking brought Adam back to his original needs list: A weapon and a layout of the ship.

  The area outside the cell was quiet—for the moment—so he exited and turned right down the corridor, away from the landing bay. Assuming most of the aliens he would encounter would be armed, he needed to find a place to lie in wait for one of them to pass. There wasn’t any place in this corridor to hide, just a long series of doors leading to other cells. He quickened his pace until reaching a closed pressure door at the end of the huge chamber that had been converted into the holding cells.

  A touchpad was on the wall next to the door. He had no idea what he’d find on other side, but he couldn’t stay here. He placed himself face-first against the narrow wall next to the door, out of sight of anyone on the other side, and activated the door panel.

  With a swoosh it slid open. All was quiet. He poked his head around the doorframe. This new corridor was narrower—and empty. He raced down its length, passing several doorways different from those in the holding area. These appeared less secure, just standard doorways leading to work areas or sleeping quarters. Out of curiosity, he opened one.

  It was an equipment room of some kind, containing several ten-foot-high square boxes with vents in their sides. Large conduit pipes joined the boxes and snaked into the overhead. There a steady hum and a slight breeze in the room. It was a ventilation station, designed to circulate air throughout the massive ship.

  Adam wasn’t alone. At an inset workstation placed along a back wall sat two Nuorean crewmembers, busy monitoring their equipment; however, one turned when the door opened. Gold eyes met blue eyes, and Adam rushed at the pair without hesitation.

  The first technician was on his feet and squared up against Adam’s charge a moment later. Adam threw his body sideways into the alien, sending them both piling on top of the workstation. As the strong arms of the first alien wrapped around Adam’s torso, the second one sprang into action, grabbing his legs and clamping down hard. For a moment, Adam couldn’t move, immobilized by the quick reactions of the Nuoreans. But neither could the aliens. A muscular arm then reached out for a panel on the console, hoping to activate an alarm, leaving only one arm to hold Adam’s legs.

  He broke the grip on his leg and lashed out with a kick to the alien’s head. He fell back, just as Adam and the other alien rolled off the table. A couple of strong jabs with his elbow into the alien’s ribs convinced the creature to release him. Adam twisted around until he faced the Nuorean. The gold eyes were intense and devoid of fear. In fact, the slight smile on the brown face gave Adam the impression he was enjoying the fight.

  A powerful right cross changed the alien’s mind. His head snapped to the left, eyes fluttering. A second punch closed the eyes completely, and they stayed that way.

  Another strong arm now wrapped around Adam’s neck and pulled him off the floor. He was bent back, as a fist began to pound repeatedly into his right side. These aliens were definitely accomplished fighters—even the damn equipment techs—but like most, they lacked strength when compared to a Human. Not much, but enough.

  Adam pressed with his legs, sending the pair crashing backwards into a nearby bulkhead. The alien gasped, weakening his hold around Adam’s neck. Grasping the Nuorean’s wrist, Adam twisted his body, reversing the positions of both fighters. Now Adam’s forearm clamped around the alien’s neck. He squeezed tight as desperate hands tried to break the hold. Grasping his right hand with his left, Adam applied even more pressure until he heard a pronounced snap, and the creature went limp in his arms.

  Adam let the alien slump to the deck before searching both his victims for a weapon. They had none. Next he searched the workstation. Still nothing. But there were computer screens, on and active.

  Adam replaced a dislodged chair and sat down, surveying the console. All he had to do was find a way to access a layout of the ship, if he could even do it from here.

  The first alien began to come to; with nonchalance, Adam placed a booted foot against his neck and pressed. Another snap…and the alien was no longer a concern. Adam returned his attention to the computer screens.

  The pad before him was square and contained forty keys, each with a different symbol. Adam started with the keys along the top row, left to right. The screens changed with nearly every keystroke, but he still didn’t find what he was looking for. Then he tried the keys along the sides, beginning on the left.

  A schematic appeared, looking like veins in a body and thread throughout the entire ship in a hard-to-follow and confusing maze. It was a layout of the ventilation system, and it was in 3-D. Noting the key that had brought up the image, Adam tried others. Soon he could spin the image, viewing it from several angles, as well as zoom in and out, discovering that the more he zoomed in, the more detail was revealed. He could see where the vital systems of the ship were placed, including the bridge and the officers’ country nearby. He could even make out control consoles, workstations and even furniture in graphic detail, if not with actual images.

  His current location was also highlighted, which gave him a point of reference.

  Damn, the ship was big, and as would be expected, the bridge was at the opposite end from the hangar bays and prisoner holding cells. It would be impossible for him to make his way there—to the place where he hoped to find the leader of the Nuoreans—without being seen.

  So…if I’m going to be seen, I need to go in disguise.

  The two dead aliens at his feet were both slightly taller than him, one more so than the other. He stripped the shorter one of his two-piece dark green uniform and placed it over his own clothing. He removed the alien’s light rubber shoes and slipped them onto his feet. They fit fairly well. Next, he rolled the excess length of pant legs into his socks and then folded the cloth to the proper length.

  Body-wise, he would pass. But his light pink skin and short blond hair would be a problem. All the aliens had light brown skin, gold eyes and black hair. And none he’d seen wore hats.

  Under his uniform, the alien wore an off-white undershirt made of a coarse material. Adam tore off a piece of it and wrapped it around his head and most of his face. Next, he took another piece and fashioned a sling. Lastly, he smashed his foot into the face of the dead alien until blood oozed from the mouth and nose of the still-warm body. Dipping another piece of cloth in the red liquid, Adam finished off the ensemble with another layer of blood-soaked cloth around his face, covering one eye and most of the other.

  The aliens had just taken part in an attack on Formil, so it was a pretty good bet some were injured, yet still managed to evacuate the planet. Adam Cain looked like one of the survivors.

  Lastly, he took a datapad off the workstation. It would serve as his clipboard…and no one ever questions someone with a clipboard.

  He had a disguise and he knew the layout of the ship. All he needed now was a weapon.

  ********

  Adam left the ventilation room…and had the first test of his disguise ten seconds later.

  Three armed Nuoreans rushed towards him in the corridor. One nodded; Adam nodded back and stepped aside to let the trio pass. The
y were headed aft, toward the hangar bay. They continued without looking back.

  The layout of most starships followed more or less the same plan. On a ship this large, several long spine corridors ran the length, with service elevators and stairways connecting the different levels. Adam was on one of the lower decks, those most-often reserved for lower ranking crewmembers and equipment rooms. He continued along this corridor for what seemed like an hour, passing through countless pressure doorways as hundreds of Nuoreans rushed by, most seeming agitated. Many were armed, yet they moved in squads. Adam knew these guys could fight, so he wasn’t anxious to press the issue by going up against several of them in order to secure a weapon. He would have to be patient.

  The corridor ended at a large open area outside an open portal twenty feet wide. Inside, Adam recognized the large room from the ventilation diagram. It was the forward weapons station. The room was rounded at the far end, with a vast array of consoles, all manned by Nuorean techs and gunners. There was a frenetic energy in the room, as hundreds of aliens went about their tasks with speed and efficiency.

  Adam was at the front of the ship…and nine levels below the bridge.

  Banks of express elevators were off to both his left and right, each with a series of wide open stairways next them, to be used in case the lifts were inoperable. Adam began climbing. There was something about the unpredictability of elevators that always sent him seeking stairways. Besides, elevators made very effective jail cells.

  The stairs were being used by impatient aliens, preferring them to the elevators when moving only a few levels at a time. Adam kept his head down and his hands in his pockets, avoiding any traffic heading up and scurrying past downward traveling aliens without acknowledgement.

  The stairs ended at the ninth level. He stepped out into a crowded foyer, still without a weapon and only the hint of a plan. He grimaced when he spotted his target alien down the corridor, still wearing the plastic shield over his broken nose and conferring with three other Nuoreans in lighter green uniforms. Adam wasn’t anxious to commit suicide. He was looking to upset the apple cart, but not at the cost of his life.

  However, the officers with Daric did have energy weapons in holsters strapped around their waists.

  Daric turned and entered a side room. The three officers remained in the passageway, huddled together, impervious to the other aliens having to move around them in the corridor. Adam moved up to the small gathering. They didn’t clear the way for him, either, forcing him to move closer to the right, where Daric had gone. The door was still open, the room appearing to be the spacious fleet commander’s away cabin.

  As he passed, Adam snatched an energy weapon from the holster of one of the officers and raced into the room, approaching Daric from behind. It happened so fast that the aliens in the corridor didn’t react until Adam already had Daric by the neck and with the bolt launcher pressed against his temple. He spun the alien around, facing the others at the doorway.

  “Stay back or I’ll blow his head clean off.”

  The older alien struggled in Adam’s strong grip but was unable to break free.

  “Stop it!” Adam growled in his ear. “Relax and you just may live through this.”

  “Stay!” Daric barked out to his troops, like a master to a dog. The obedient officers obeyed.

  “Now back out and close the door,” Adam added to the instructions.

  The aliens focused on Daric.

  “Comply,” he said. Without the slightest hesitation, the officers left the room and the door slid shut.

  Adam spun Daric around and shoved him into a nearby chair, the weapon now aimed between the golden eyes. Through the clear plastic of the nose shield, Adam noticed matching black patches on the brown skin below them. The alien was smiling.

  “I have been studying you for a while now, Adam Cain, even before arriving in the Kac. You do not disappoint. Your challenge points will be phenomenal, and a lure to any who dare face you in the arena.”

  Adam ignored him, choosing to scan the room for secondary ingress and egress. A bank of monitors on the wall caught his attention. They showed various scenes throughout the ship—and all with looping images of him in corridors, stairwells, and even fighting the equipment techs near the holding cells.

  Stunned, Adam turned his attention back to Daric.

  “Yes, we have been monitoring you all along, very impressive.” Daric rose from the chair and walked to the monitors. Adam held the weapon on him, but didn’t protest. The alien leader pressed controls on the wall and the images on some of the screens switched scenes.

  “Of the twenty-five prisoners, nine managed to escape. All except two went to the landing bay and were promptly recaptured. A creature known as a Que’l joined you in moving farther into the ship rather than seek escape to the outside. Only you made it this far, attributed to your ingenious disguise.”

  Daric moved to his desk and sat down. Again, Adam didn’t stop him. Instead, he moved to the chair he’d forced Daric into earlier and sat down. He looked at the weapon in his hand then back to the smiling alien face.

  “Correct. All the weapons of my officers have been disabled,” he said, answering the unasked question. “I was waiting in the corridor for you notice me.” Daric laughed. “Do not fault yourself, Adam Cain. The Nuor are masters at the game. We arrange scenarios and watch how others react. Your moves were efficient and effective, and even somewhat unpredictable.”

  “You let your own people die just to see how far I could get?”

  “Do not worry. They were players to be sacrificed. Their bloodlines will be awarded ancillary immunity points. They will not suffer.”

  Adam eyed the alien. He was slightly taller than Adam, husky, yet older than the other two Nuoreans he’d fought earlier. Daric also had a broken nose and would unconsciously favor the injury in a fight. Adam could take him, even without a weapon.

  As if reading his mind, Daric produced a three-foot long polished metal sword from behind the desk. He held it up for inspection.

  “We call this a ressnel, the weapon of preference in the arena. Even injured, I assure you I am an expert in its use.” He set the blade on the desk. “I have prevailed in thirty-eight prior challenges, most against much younger opponents. Although the prospect of head-to-head combat with you is nearly irresistible, at this point I would prefer to save you for a later date and a more formal setting.”

  “What is this all about?” Adam growled. “Who are you guys and why have you started this war with—with everyone?”

  “You mistake our intentions, Adam Cain,” replied Daric with sincerity. “We are not at war with your galaxy. To the contrary, we have no animosity towards you or any other race we find here.”

  “No, you just want to kill us.”

  “Not without purpose.” Daric leaned back in his chair. “We do not want your land, possessions or raw materials. All we seek is competition, players for our games. In my galaxy, we have run low on immunity races. As a consequence, society is stagnating. Without mobility through point acquisition, there can be no advancement.”

  “It sounds like a messed up system, if you ask me,” Adam said.

  “I assure you, it is not. We acquire points from everyday activities, such as life-skill proficiency, production quotas, even time on station performing assigned tasks. Yet we gain more points—along with a share of the possessions of others—by ritualized combat challenges. Seldom are any Nuoreans killed during such contests, yet they allow the entire race to develop skills at combat techniques. We do not fear these challenges. Indeed we welcome them, we seek them out.”

  “It sounds like you use these points like we use money.”

  Daric’s face grew animated behind the plastic mask. “That is correct! We have been monitoring your communications for some time, so I understand what you say. You are correct. Yet it is only through the most-risky challenges that a special category of points are awarded—immunity points. With these we may challenge others
, while protecting all or a portion of our awards package.”

  “And you earn immunity points by fighting us.”

  “Precisely! As mentioned, challenges between Nuoreans are seldom fatal. Yet immunity challenges are always to the death. This implied level of danger, requiring an elevated skill level to prevail, is why challenges with aliens are so sought after.”

  “But you can’t possibly expect to arrange individual contests with every being in the galaxy.”

  “Of course not. Nuoreans can also acquire immunity points as members of teams facing off against fleets and armies of players—what you call warriors. The amount is considerably less, yet even the lowest-skilled among us can gain immunity points through participation in large-scale challenges.”

  Daric paused, locking his eyes with Adam. When he continued, his tone was more…deadly. “That is why Nuoreans actively seek challenges. We do not run, we do not cower, we do not fear. This is what we are bred for. I have studied your galaxy through the abundance of open communications filtering freely throughout. I know how most of your species view such things. Most fight only when necessary. Nuoreans fight out of necessity. We fight to live.”

  Adam pursed his lips. “So what now?”

  Daric smiled again. “This is just the beginning. Although we have been monitoring the Kac, we have only just now made a live incursion into your galaxy. And you should be honored, Adam Cain. You are in the presence of the Nuorean tasked with the evaluation of your resident species, along with the assignment of immunity points for each. It should be a prideful moment that you learn Humans are at the top of the scale. In addition to that, I and my team will be evaluating individuals from all your races as they become known to us. Immunity points will be assigned to all.”

  “Then what?”

  “As the list grows, the identity and score of each individual player will be posted for all Nuoreans in the Kac to view. Those at the proper skill level will be able to challenge these individuals in single challenge.”