Alien Games (The Human Chronicles Saga Book 17)

by T. R. Harris

  Daric stepped forward again with three quick steps. Adam responded by backing up, until he lost his balance again, this time on the decline of a small valley in the arena. He rolled on his back, over his head and back to his feet.

  Although the valley was only four feet deep, Daric stood on the precipice looking down. Then he stepped back, braced his foot in the dirt and propelled himself over the small depression, performing a summersault while swiping at Adam’s head as he flew over.

  He landed on the other side in perfect balance and twirled his sword in his wrist with showman-like flair.

  Adam was up and out of the depression a moment later, sprinting for one of the half-walls embedded in the ground. He ran to the other side and stopped, facing the slowly approaching Nuorean warrior.

  “Yes, now you are getting into the challenge—and the show. Let us prolong this for the enjoyment of the crowd.”

  As Daric rounded the partition, Adam shifted to the other side. This went on three more times until Daric stopped and glared at his Human opponent.

  “Please stop playing games!”

  “I thought that’s what we’re supposed to do, play games.”

  Daric squared his jaw, the smile gone from his face. He leapt, landing on top of the six-inch thick wall, swinging across it with this deadly sword. The blade struck Adam’s shield at an angle, causing him to spin to his right. Then the alien’s sword was coming back around, having made a complete circle in the air above Adam’s head. Adam ducked, but the tip caught the flesh along the back of his neck. Daric saw the flesh slice open and cried out with a primal roar. He jumped off the wall, forcing Adam to retreat, rushing for the cover of one of the large square blocks decorating the grounds.

  As he ran, Adam looked over his shoulder at the Nuorean. Daric had stopped and was staring with a curious frown at the back of Adam’s neck. There was no blood from the wound. Indeed, there was no wound.

  Now it was Adam’s turn to show off his gymnastic abilities. In the light gravity, he jumped and reached the top of the ten-foot-high cube with his elbows hooked onto the edge. Then he rolled on top and stood, sword at the ready, shield to his side.

  Daric was below him. “Superb move, utilizing natural advantage within the local environment, knowing I am operating within my native gravity.” He stepped back. “Yet what you do not realize is the natural leaping ability of the Nuor.”

  A moment later, Daric had matched Adam jump to the top of the block, only with more finesse. He reached the top on his feet and already in full stride to attack the Human while Adam was still in awe of the leap.

  Adam ran off, hopping from one block to another, each separated by twenty feet or more. In the light gravity, it wasn’t that difficult for the Human…or the Nuorean. Daric chased him until there were no more blocks in the chain forcing Adam to drop to the dusty ground below.

  Just as his feet met the surface, a heavy weight fell on his back. The glimmer of a shiny metal sword swinging around from his right made Adam spin to his left. The alien on his back managed to hold on, a strong arm around his neck and the razor-sharp edge of the blade now closer to his throat.

  Adam managed to position his own sword between his body and the threatening shaft of metal only inches away. The blades met. With all his strength, Adam fought to keep the edge from making contact.

  Then he felt hot breath on the side of his face.

  “Are you feeling it yet, Human?” Daric whispered in his ear. Adam shifted his head to the right with the eyes of the combatants only inches apart. “The grip of your sword, I added a special chemical to it. Very slow acting. But the edge of my ressnel was coated with a stronger version. Although I believe I have already broken your skin, I will now let the chemical course through your body as we continue this dance for the enjoyment of my people. As I said, all has been staged.”

  The alien fell off his back and stepped away. Both Adam and Daric were now without shields, having discarded them as they jumped from the cubes. But now the sword in Adam’s hand was becoming heavy, heavier than before. Daric swung his blade, slower this time, allowing Adam to counter the strike. Then came another and another, until Adam fell back against one of the huge, solid stone blocks. He countered two more swipes of Daric’s blade, each time his arm dropping lower from the impact. His energy was going; it wouldn’t be long now.

  Daric feinted with a sweep of this sword, but instead changed direction and jabbed the blade into Adam’s side. The Human jumped away, stumbling toward the half-wall partition. Daric struck again, this time lashing out at Adam’s back as he ran, cutting through the black fabric of his fighting uniform. Adam rolled along the wall, leaning over the top, using it to keep himself upright.

  Growing frustrated that his opponent hadn’t collapsed by now, Daric sent another straight jab across Adam’s side, opening yet another wide slice in the sleeveless uniform. The Nuorean was confused. The upper garment was now cut in several places, barely able to stay in place…yet there was no blood or open wounds.

  “I know I have cut you several times!” the alien growled.

  “Did you not read…Humans seldom bleed? Only when we want to.”

  Adam pushed away from the wall and stood up straight, facing the alien. Daric bared his teeth and came at the Human with his sword at full force and speed. Adam didn’t move from his spot. Instead he used effortless moves of his blade to efficiently counter each from the Nuorean.

  Switching position, Daric struck from a one-eighty-degree radius, moving with skill and agility. Adam simple shifted his footing and met each strike with an efficient matching of shiny metal. After this had gone on long enough, Adam swatted away the alien’s blade and stepped forward, chest-slamming Daric to the ground.

  He stood back, watching the panicky alien crawl backwards in the soft dirt. Then planting the tip of his sword in the ground, Adam stepped toward the fallen alien unarmed.

  Daric swung widely with his blade; Adam avoiding the sword with lightning quick moves to either his left or right, yet always just outside the reach of the tip. Growing bored of this, Adam turned from the alien and walked back to his own sword, still in the ground and wobbling from side to side.

  The Nuorean scrambled to his feet and looked around the field for any assistance. He spotted his shield lying twenty feet away. He raced for it. Adam didn’t stop him.

  Now with a full arsenal, Daric squared up against the Human once again. He was dirty, yet uninjured.

  Adam scanned the sky and the placement of the sun, as if measuring time. The challenge had gone on long enough. It was time to end this.

  It was faster than anyone could move, yet Adam was now standing before the alien, lashing out his sword before Daric could react. A deep gash opened in Daric’s sword arm, having sliced through the thin silver armor as if it wasn’t there. Next Adam’s blade contacted the alien’s metal shield, splitting it in half with a powerful downward stroke. Now without a shield, Daric grabbed at his bleeding arm with his free hand and backed away. He was not only injured, but in shock as to the sudden turn of events in the Grand Arena.

  “This should not be happening. You should have no control of your appendages by now.”

  “You mean like this?” Adam struck again, slicing through both armor and flesh of the alien’s muscular left forearm. With both arms bleeding and weakened, Daric staggered back.

  There was a hushed silence within the stadium.

  Next came a flash of metal in the morning sun of Ankaa, and a moment later a large ‘X’ appeared on Daric’s chest. Torrents of blood rapidly soaked the golden fabric of his best fighting uniform. He wobbled where he stood, a blank expression on his face and within his vacant eyes.

  Without realizing it, the Nuorean’s sword hand fell from his wrist, having been severed by a swing of Adam’s sword too fast to be seen with the naked eye. Daric sank to his knees as Adam knelt, wrapping his free arm around the alien to keep him from toppling over.

  Then Adam leaned in close unti
l Daric’s golden eyes focused on him. Panur’s face reverted to its true self. The eyes of the alien grew wide and his mouth opened to form a question.

  “My friend, there are things in this galaxy you cannot comprehend,” the mutant whispered. “Your race will not survive what you have started here today.”

  When Panur stood, he was Adam Cain once more. He turned to the stunned crowd as a universal gasp hung in the air.

  “I am Adam Cain…Human! You have come to the Kac Galaxy seeking combat challenges to advance your civilization. Instead…you have found your downfall. You will all die, here and in your own galaxy, just as will this pitiful creature you profess to be your champion. He is nothing compared to Humans, and to so many other races within the Milky Way Galaxy! You have no idea what you have brought upon yourselves. Now I will show you.”

  Adam/Panur turned toward Daric. He was still on his knees, wobbling, about to keel over. With a blur of his ressnel sword, Adam separated Daric’s head from his shoulders. As the head toppled to the dirt, Adam finished up by bringing the blade straight down through the body, splitting it half and exposing the inner organs of the alien for all to see.

  In a final show of disrespect, Adam lifted Daric’s bloody head, looked once more into the vacant dead eyes, and then threw it over a hundred yards into the stands, evoking an eruption of gasps from the stunned audience.

  Over fifty Nuorean guards came rushing the field, flash weapons aimed at the rampaging alien. Still sporting the image of Adam Cain, Panur raced into the mass of aliens. Flash weapons erupted, but none of the bolts struck him. Instead, Adam’s ressnel sword—the preferred weapon of the Nuorean games—sliced through twenty or more of the aliens before they fell back.

  In a blur, Adam/Panur was at the sloping exit ramp from the arena, racing past where the real Adam Cain had been held. To his delight, the cell was empty.

  Morphing into his true form—only a taller version to better cope with the long pant legs of his uniform—Panur flew past cells with stunned occupants, who moments before had watched the horrific scene play out on video screens. Many recognized the uniform, but not the face of the alien that rushed past. Even then, some cheered him on.

  He came upon the spot where J’nae had killed the first three guards. A half dozen more were on the scene, cleaning up and investigating. Although they knew from the reaction of the audience that something unexpected had happened in the arena, they lacked detail. They watched Panur rush by, later to testify that the grey-skinned alien had a wide grin on his non-Human face.

  ********

  Adam drove the huge black truck onto the dirt of the landing field, dazed and confused. The spaceport was a lot larger than when he arrived only nine days before, with additional land cleared to accommodate the rapidly building Nuorean fleet. He had no idea where he was going, which was obvious to the guards at the gate and others on the field. They waved for him to stop or change direction. This continued until he raced past them and they could see into the driver’s compartment. An alien was in control, and dressed in the uniform of a challenge combatant.

  More vehicles soon took up the chase through the spaceport, including two of the armored trucks like he was driving. He had no idea where J’nae was, or if she was even at the spaceport. He’d been expecting her to have already secured a starship…but which one? There were over a hundred scattered over the dusty field.

  To your right, the large vessel with the double set of viewports in the front. The voice echoed in his mind, undoubtedly through his ATD.

  Is that you, J’nae?

  Who else would it be? Hurry.

  If she could access his ATD, he wondered if she could also read his mind?

  I cannot read your mind.

  Adam steered the truck toward the indicated starship. If not, then how—

  A very educated guess as to what you were thinking. Now hurry, Panur will be here shortly.

  Adam pulled back on the speed dial, and with an extra push, the brakes locked up. The truck skidded to a halt next to the large spacecraft. J’nae was at the access hatch, still glowing white but not quite as much.

  The back door of the truck burst open and everyone ran out, turning toward the starship. J’nae stepped aside to let them enter, that was until everyone was screaming at her about the heat. Reluctantly, she stepped outside, giving them a wider berth.

  Sherri rushed past, as close as she could. “Jesus lady, put on some clothes.”

  “I cannot until I cool.”

  “Then morph into something without so much…detail.”

  A moment later, a seven-tall Sasquatch-looking thing stood at the side of the ship, still white-hot but now covered in matching glowing fur.

  Riyad was in the pilot’s seat, scanning the controls. It was one thing to escape on the fly; another having to pilot a craft whose controls you’ve never laid eyes on in your life.

  “Damn!” he called out, at a loss to decipher what he was looking at. Adam and Sherri joined him a moment later. This was different than the controls of the small surface lander Adam had stolen from Formil.

  It was a circular wheel—and that was it. No markings and no buttons or switches on a console. There was a monitor embedded in a panel in front of them, yet it was also devoid of side buttons or writing.

  “What do I do?”

  Trimen stuck his head over Sherri’s shoulder. She gasped when she noticed it was the Formilian.

  Adam noticed her reaction and grimaced. He had just survived nine days in the clutches of galactic invaders, then led the heroic effort to set them all free—and yet it was still the animal masculinity of the alien that turned her on. He wondered why he even bothered.

  “Take the wheel in your hands,” said the handsome alien. “I suspect you should feel finger holds underneath. These are the controls you seek. As to the function of each, I would have no idea except through experimentation.”

  “Why have the generators not activated?” J’nae’s voice boomed from the entrance to the bridge. The transformation into the huge hairy beast had dissipated much of her excess energy, bringing her body temperature back down to normal.

  “I don’t know how to fly this thing!” Riyad yelled back. “Do you know how?”

  The Juirean Overlord, who was also on the bridge, cleared a path for the huge mutant. She leaned over a console along the starboard side bulkhead and ran her hand over the blank top. A screen came to life at her touch. She fingered the panel and a data stream appeared on a screen above the console. The images and writing scrolled by in a blur.

  “I have to learn the Nuorean language first. It will only take a second—there. Now I will access the flight control instructions.” More data flew past. Without warning, she turned from the console and came to the pilot seat. “Move, I will do it.”

  With enthusiasm, Riyad obeyed, then he joined the others at the back of the bridge. The generators began to wind up with a soothing vibration. They were getting somewhere.

  “Someone’s coming!” Manny Brown yelled outside the bridge. “It looks like that gray thing. Manure, or something like that.”

  The three Humans on the bridge looked at each other…and burst out laughing. “I’ll have to use that,” Sherri said.

  Adam regained his composure. “J’nae, can we track the opposition outside. They’re not going to let us lift off without a fight.”

  “Before acquiring this vessel, I disabled the spaceport’s automatic defense system, which could also be used to fire upon a departing ship, as well as incoming threats. Also, I have just now disconnected the remote access controls for the ship. All Nuorean craft are equipped with the means to be remotely controlled from a mothership.”

  “That’s how they cut the power to the ship I stole from Formil.”

  “That would have been possible. It will not work on this ship any longer. Look…Panur.” J’nae pointed at the screen and the oddly-shaped gray mutant shown racing across the field…with no less than six vehicles straining to keep
up. He was still dressed in the battle uniform, which Adam noticed fit remarkably well, considering that Panur was normally only four-and-a-half feet tall.

  As they watched the screens, four armor trucks pulled up in front of the spaceship, having arrived from a different direction.

  “They’re attempting to block our departure,” said the Juirean Overlord.

  “True, except that we intend to depart upwards, not forward,” said a snarky Trimen O’lac.

  “They’ll undoubtedly have units waiting for us in space,” Adam noted. “Where’s weapons control?”

  J’nae pointed to her right. “The two banks along the right bulkhead. Swipe the consoles to activate the control panels. I will give guidance when the time comes.”

  The three Humans raced for the consoles and the two built-in chairs in front of them. Adam got there first, while Sherri and Riyad wrestled for the other chair. The limber female managed to wiggle her shapely behind into the seat before her competition. Riyad grunted and walked away, sulking. “I guess I’ll run the nav station.”

  “I have navigation under my control,” J’nae announced.

  “Okay…then communications?”

  “There will be little need for that,” the mutant pointed out.

  Riyad fell back against the rear bulkhead. “I guess that leaves me running the mess hall. Anyone hungry?”

  Panur rushed onto the bridge. “All secure, J’nae. Let’s go.” he said. He wasn’t winded, sweating or injured. He was just Panur, only a taller version of him. That changed when he morphed back to his normal size, leaving eight inches of pant legs bunched up on the deck at his feet. He bent down and tore at the excess fabric halfway up his legs, leaving enough to cover the gray, spindly appendages.

  The ship began to move, riding a cloud of white smoke above the landing field.

  “Make a sweep over the spaceport and the arena using a shallow gravity-well,” Panur ordered.

  J’nae moved her hands around the wheel, stopping momentarily to press hidden buttons on the underside of the controller. The ship was about a thousand feet off the ground, and taking flash cannon bolts from the armored trucks below. No fire came from the more-powerful planetside defenses set up around the landing field, thanks to J’nae preliminary actions.