Alien Games (The Human Chronicles Saga Book 17)

by T. R. Harris

  Anger flared again and Billy charged. The alien managed to step to his side before losing his balance and tumbling to the ground. Billy’s feet became tangled in Linoc’s and he fell forward as well.

  Linoc was on his feet first, backing away with blood gushing from his nose and mouth. When Billy stood, he stumbled, grimaced and grabbed his right leg. He attempted to move forward, but stumbled again, going down on one knee. He met Linoc’s eyes with fear and concern.

  The alien stepped back and smiled. Although he was bloody and coated in dust and sweat, none of his injuries were debilitating. He wiped his blade on his pants, making it shine once more in the sunlight of the unknown world, in no hurry now to finish off his hobbled opponent.

  Billy continued to drag his useless leg behind him until he reached the edge of the arena. Linoc came forward, slowly, never losing his grin. When the pair were about ten feet apart the alien stopped.

  “With the immunity points I will acquire with your death, I will move up to First-Player status. You have redeemed my prospects. I thank you for your noble sacrifice.”

  The alien crouched down and assumed an offensive stance, sword out in front, his left arm held high and to the rear for balance. He stutter-stepped forward, closing the ten-foot gap in a heartbeat, lunging with his sword.

  But Billy wasn’t there. Having braced his feet against the barrier, he jumped to his left, landing on his right shoulder and rolling up to his feet. He rushed forward, no sign of injury, jabbing the tip of his sword deep into the alien’s unprotected side.

  Linoc staggered off as far as he could before Billy slashed again with the blade. This time a fresh seam opened across the alien’s chest. The cloth of his sleeveless combat shirt changed colors, from a light cream color to blood red, spreading before the eyes of the cheering crowd of alien prisoners.

  Linoc staggered back, waving his sword with weak movements to and fro.

  Billy stood to his full height of six-foot-two and threw out his chest. Next he gripped his sword with both hands and shoved it forward, coming in low at the alien. Linoc tried a feeble attempt to block the incoming blade of Nuorean metal, but he was weak and dizzy from loss of blood. He was too late. The tip of Billy’s sword entered the abdomen and exited out the back. And then with Human strength, Billy Kring lifted the limp body, holding it high above his head, even as alien blood rained down on his face.

  He let the blade—and the dead alien impaled on it—fall to the ground, then he placed a metal-tipped boot on the body and pulled the blade from the corpse. He glared at Daric, who sat in the shade of the viewing platform, a blank expression on his face. Billy tossed the bloody blade into the dirt and walked back to the staging area, defiant, victorious…and without the slightest hint of a limp.

  With the contest completed, the crowd surrounding the arena fell into a stunned silence, unsure what the Nuoreans would do after the death of one of their own. When no immediate response came, a few cheers began to rise up, soon joined by hundreds. The sound was deafening, and made up of cackles, whistles, hoots and hollers as each species expressed their excitement in their own particular voice.

  Eventually Daric tried to talk. It took a minute or so for the crowd to quiet down, enough so he could be heard.

  “As it is with first-level immunity challenges, the outcome is never guaranteed. The challenge is awarded to the Human Billy Kring. We honor the sacrifice Linoc (611) Kallen-Noc has made to further our traditions. Through this challenge, a more-detailed assessment of the Human race can be made, helping to finalize the immunity points assigned to the species. To the Nuoreans viewing, let it be known that only the most-qualified shall be allowed to challenge the Humans. This restriction shall also apply to the Juirean race. We came to the Kac to renew our supply of worthy immunity challenge opponents. From the contests we have witnessed today, we have succeeded in that goal. Prepare yourselves accordingly. Our adventure in the Kac is just beginning. The future is bright for our people and for the opportunity of more glorious immunity challenges to come. Resume your normal duties.”

  A squad of Nuoreans entered the staging area and escorted Adam and the Juirean Overlord to the viewing platform. Daric awaited them, his golden eyes narrow, expression unreadable.

  “That was indeed an entertaining—and quite unexpected—demonstration I just witnessed.” He stepped down to Adam’s level and glared into his eyes. “You think you have achieved something beneficial here today…both of you. You are wrong. All you have done is increased the waiting list of Nuoreans wishing to challenge your races. We do not run from a challenge. In fact, the greater the danger, the more we wish to participate. I will have to be judicial in my granting of challenges, lest both your races will be consumed in a relatively short time. That would be a shame. I wish to preserve your species for many hundreds of years of excellent matches. Unfortunately, I will not always have a say in the assignments. There is such a hunger among my people for advancement challenges shielded by immunity points that I’m afraid any effort to slow the pace of contests coming your way will not prevail. Regrettably, this means your respective species will be the first to go extinct within your Milky Way galaxy.”

  Adam and the Juirean were excused and set free to return to their camps. A few moments later, the eight-foot-tall Overlord leaned over toward Adam and spoke.

  “I am Safnos fe Candoc, and I see now this figurative picture you referred to earlier. You are correct. We are not enemies, at least not any longer. The Nuoreans are the real threat. We must work together towards their eventual defeat. And the first task at hand will be to escape from this prison.”

  Adam placed a hand on the back of the alien. “That’s music to my ears, buddy.”

  “I hear no music,” said the Overlord. “Perhaps it is the wind.”

  “Yeah, that must be it.”

  Chapter 11

  “They came out of the Radis Spur and then retreated back into it,” Admiral Alan Olsen pointed out to the rest of the assembled officers, politicians and think-tankers on the group comm link. “We also know they came from Andromeda, but not using their conventional drive. Therefore, they must have a way of jumping between galaxies, and I bet it’s located somewhere in the Spur.”

  “And your proposal is we close off the region, preventing the invaders from accessing the rest of the galaxy?” asked the Juirean Overlord Nadar fe Xanis. “They have already filtered throughout our space, absconding with thousands of individuals represented hundreds of species.”

  “Yet now they’re all back in Radis. This is our best chance to lock them down.”

  “I concur,” said the Formilian representative linked to the remote conference. His name was Rasx and he was commander of the native fleet—all three hundred eight ships. “If they are indeed a single race, and without any radical technological advantage to use against us, surely the combined forces of the galaxy can repel them.”

  “One would think so,” said Olsen. “They caught us flat-footed with that last encounter, but not again. We have a lot of resources available to us, if we combine our forces.”

  “And I ask again, who shall lead this combined force?” asked the Juirean.

  This again? The chain of command seemed to be the only thing on the alien’s mind. “It’s obvious both our races—the Humans and Juireans—have the most military assets in the galaxy,” the Admiral began. “And since command is of prime concern to most of us here, I propose joint leadership.”

  “How would that be organized?”

  “Earth and Juir would each appoint a senior military commander and the two of them would have equal authority.”

  “The Juirean fleet outnumbers the Humans three-to-one. Why would we agree to equal command authority with the Humans?”

  Olsen wanted to say: Because a year ago a small band of Humans kicked your ass in spite of your superior numbers. Instead, he replied: “Because it’s good for the galaxy. Besides, the individual fleets would still be under local command. Only the major s
trategies would be worked out between the top brass.”

  Olsen didn’t know if ‘top brass’ would translate properly, but he didn’t care. The Juireans were becoming the largest stumbling block to forming a unified response to the Nuoreans. Adam Cain really bloodied their nose a year ago, and they were still fighting to regain respect within the galaxy. Yet without them, there could be no effective counter to the invaders.

  “Juirean forces would be under Juirean command?” the Overlord asked.

  “Of course…after the overall battle plan has been formulated.”

  “That is how it must be,” Nadar declared. “Juireans will not take orders from Humans.”

  “And vice versa.”

  “Then it is agreed.”

  “And what of the rest of us?” asked the Formilian.

  “Representatives from all the contributing fleets will form an advisory council for the commanders. Your assets, capabilities and concerns will be weighed and integrated into any battle strategy. The war with the Nuoreans is everyone’s war. Granted, the bulk will be carried out by the major military powers, yet I know everyone in the galaxy wants to do their part. The opportunity will be provided. Your sacrifice will be needed before this is over.”

  “This is a complicated command structure, involving many layers of partisan authority,” said the Rigorian representative. “Yet action must be taken immediately to prevent further infestation by the invaders.”

  If any race looked deadly and imposing, it was the lizard-like Rigorians, with their alligator-like heads and unblinking yellow eyes. Yet their military was run more like an affiliation of criminal gangs, with hundreds of independent factions maneuvering for control. They were good fighters, but trying to get them all on the same page could be a challenge. Members of their race had been taken by the Nuoreans as well and they wanted to fight—hell, they always wanted to fight—but what form their contribution would take was the question.

  “Very astute observation, Klackon Draysis.” Klackon was the Rigorian word for commander. “To cut off the entire spur from the galaxy will require at least five thousand ships, maybe more. The only force in the region large enough is that of the Juireans. A Human fleet is on the way, yet still several months away.”

  “So if the Nuoreans attack, it will be mainly Juirean lives that are lost,” stated the Overlord. “And for this we are offered only equal command?”

  “Your solitary stand at the barrier is only temporary,” replied Olsen. “But if we don’t act soon, the Nuorean threat could spread throughout the galaxy and be much harder to weed out at that point.”

  Nadar considered the proposal for a moment before responding. “We shall agree, with the condition that Juirean Military Command shall have veto power over any strategy developed by the joint operational commanders.”

  “Pardon me, Overlord Nadar,” said the Formilian Rasx, “but that would add another layer of bureaucracy to the chain of command. It would also place the Juireans essentially in overall command of the war effort.”

  “We risk most; we should have the most input.”

  The meeting had gone on like this for two hours, talking in circles over the same roadblock issue. Admiral Olsen was growing weary and frustrated. All this squabbling was costing the allied forces precious time. He let out a soft laugh at the word allied. Nothing at this point was allied against the common enemy. And then there was the larger issue….

  “Let me run your proposal by my people, Overlord Nadar. In the meantime, has any progress been made in locating the entry point for the Nuoreans? As we know, they didn’t make the two-point-five million light-year journey from Andromeda to here on conventional gravity drive. They must have a device that allows them to jump between galaxies. This has to be a major facility, located somewhere out along the Radis Spur. Until we shut that down, the Nuoreans will continue to send more units through. It’s just like the Sol-Kor and their trans-dimensional portals, except there’s probably only one such device in use by the invaders.”

  “Why do you assume that?” asked Eckcon, the Silean.

  “Because so far the main concentration of Nuoreans has been in the Spur…and we haven’t detected the contributions of any mutant genius helping them with some break-through technology. If they were popping up all over the place, then we’d have a bigger problem.”

  “This then should be our priority,” stated the Overlord, “even more so than closing off the Spur. If we can shut off their supply of reinforcements, then the rest will die a slow and natural death, as we strike at their remaining force.”

  Olsen nodded. “I agree, Overlord Nadar. Yet it should be one of our priorities, but not the only one. We have no idea where this device is located and what it would take to destroy it. Such a mission would also involve transiting the Spur to find it. I’m interested in saving lives now by isolating the cancer to a small region of the galaxy. After that we can launch expeditions to search for the entry point.”

  “It appears as if the Humans have already taken control,” Nadar stated coldly. “We have offered plans and the admiral then renders a decision. That is not what the Juireans will accept.”

  We’re back to this…again! “I am not trying to impose control,” Olsen argued. “I’m merely pointing out considerations.”

  “Then please let me make a proposal,” said Rasx. The Formilians were taking a more active role in the affairs of the galaxy ever since Lila Bol assumed control of the Expansion. This wasn’t sitting well with certain parties. Although the mutant was technically half-Formilian, most of the galaxy hadn’t yet accepted her race as the default leaders of the galaxy. Lila was a one-of-a-kind being and feared by all; her people, not so much. Still, this hadn’t stopped the Formilians from becoming more vocal.

  “I propose we do both. It would not be advantageous at this point to blindly invade the Radis Spur in search of something we have no idea what it looks like, or even if it is there. I suggest we blockade the Spur, using Juirean forces at first, then supplemented by others as these units become available. In conjunction, an exploratory mission is launched to find the Nuorean access point to our galaxy. It should be a small operation—possibly even a single ship—allowing it to move about the Spur without attracting the attention of the invaders. Then once we have more intelligence, we can better plan a mission to destroy…whatever the Nuoreans are using to reach us. As you see, we have no idea what this something is in order to even give it a name.”

  Olsen liked the idea, but still looked to the screen with the Juirean for his reaction. After a moment, Nadar’s huge head nodded, sending waves through his magnificent mane of blue hair. “I will recommend the action to blockade the Radis Spur. Yet I assign the task of sending the exploratory mission to the Humans. They appear to prefer operations involving subterfuge and sabotage to prideful confrontations between major forces.”

  ********

  Even with the overall strategy decided, it took another two hours banging out the details before the links were broken. Alan was exhausted. He’d never fought so hard in his life to get his point across. Yet now—hopefully—the danger will be isolated to the Radis Spur. He wasn’t even sure if they could contain the threat, but it was a start. The Nuoreans were so new on the scene that they could have a whole plethora of secret weapons they haven’t revealed to date.

  It was for that reason that Admiral Alan Olsen was a step ahead of the others on the links. A reconnaissance mission into Nuorean territory was already in the works, designed to assess enemy strength, capabilities and intentions. Discovering how the aliens were getting into the galaxy would also be a major part of the operation.

  As the highest ranking Human military commander the Perseus Slice—the half of the galaxy on the opposite side from Earth—Alan Olsen had access to all the resources of Union Military Intelligence. This provided him with information classified far above Top Secret, or even Special Access. A few days ago he began researching current assets already operating in the Radis Spur. There
was only one.

  The Spur was a no place region of the galaxy, with its only claim to fame being that it was where the Juireans set up shop after their debacle against the Humans and the Kracori almost twenty years ago. They remained there for seven years before returning to Juir, and even a few years after that as they shut down their operations.

  In the vacuum created by their departure, a burgeoning criminal element took over, gaining strength over the past ten years. Recently, drugs and weapons traced back to the Spur were showing up in the Union, prompting a tentative foray into the area to gain more information as a prelude to a much larger deterrent operation.

  As Olsen scanned the data on his screen, he discovered the undercover asset was already well-established in Spur. This would give the allies a leg up. It was just a single person who had been in the area for a little over two years, apparently having requested the duty—for whatever reason, the Admiral couldn’t imagine.

  Olsen smirked as he read the file. The allies had agreed to a small operation, and one man was about as small as they came. Yes, he would do nicely. The Admiral opened a link with Earth to request the formal transfer of the asset to his command. While waiting for the connection, Olsen checked the name again, just to make he’d read it correctly. It was a strange one.

  Copernicus Smith.

  Chapter 12

  The Nuorean fleet had continued on course for seven days before spreading out and occupying the space around a small uncharted stellar cluster. The aliens couldn’t have picked a more isolated section of the galaxy to make their foray into the Milky Way. It masked their operations and provided the allies with very few landmarks for reference.

  Riyad had been closing on the huge fleet for seven days—longer than had been anticipated. But now that the enemy ships had settled down it was his turn. He backed off on the gravity-well and steered the MD-8c on a course to skirt the cluster. He wanted to be noticed, but not labeled a threat. He was fishing, and the MD-8c was the bait.