by T. R. Harris
Force of Gravity
The Human Chronicles Saga #22
T.R. Harris
An Adam Cain Adventure
Contents
Copyright 2017 by T.R. Harris
Contact
Novels by T.R. Harris
Who is Adam Cain?
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
The End
Author Notes
Contact
Novels by T.R. Harris
Copyright 2017 by T.R. Harris
All rights reserved, without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanically, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Contact
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Novels by T.R. Harris
The Human Chronicles Saga – Continuum
Mission Critical (An Adam Cain Adventure)
The Human Chronicles Saga (original series)
The Fringe Worlds
Alien Assassin
The War of Pawns
The Tactics of Revenge
The Legend of Earth
Cain’s Crusaders
The Apex Predator
A Galaxy to Conquer
The Masters of War
Prelude to War
The Unreachable Stars
When Earth Reigned Supreme
A Clash of Aliens
Battlelines
The Copernicus Deception
Scorched Earth
Alien Games
The Cain Legacy
The Andromeda Mission
Last Species Standing
Invasion Force
Force of Gravity
REV Warriors Series
Rev
Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series
The Enclaves of Sylox
Treasure of the Galactic Lights
The Drone Wars Series
Day of the Drone
In collaboration with George Wier…
The Liberation Series
Captains Malicious
Available exclusively on Amazon.com
and Kindle Unlimited.
Who is Adam Cain?
Adam Cain is an alien with an attitude.
His story continues…
Prologue
4,000 Years Ago…on the other side of the galaxy.
Pleabaen Juris Simlan was in a good mood, in spite of the unexpected request for an audience from the overbearing Juirean Overlord. As a being of precise organization and discipline, Simlan normally did not tolerate disruptions to his routine. Yet part of his joyous emotions this morning came from the role the Juireans played in his overall sense of well-being. He would enjoy toying with the savage beast, knowing the full truth he was withholding.
The door to his office opened and the thickly-built alien entered, trailing a velvet blue cape in his wake. Although Klin and Juireans were of equal height on the average, the rough-skinned creatures had recently begun to display huge mounds of long hair atop their heads that then cascaded halfway down their backs. This added another foot to their statue, which Simlan recognized as a vain attempt to appear even larger and more threatening, a practice common within the animal world. The Klin leader sincerely hoped the aliens weren’t doing this in an attempt to intimidate his people. The Klin were too sophisticated to fall for such theatrics.
In addition to the long manes, the Juireans were also dying their hair different colors to signify the class they belonged to. Overlords were colored blue. The military arm—the Guards—green. The Elites were white, while the Techs dyed their hair yellow. The Klin related most to the Techs, if related was the right word. They simply tolerated this class of alien more, even though the Techs also carried with them an air of immature bombast and arrogance.
For Simlan, it was the arrogance of the Juireans that he found most annoying. These creatures had no right to be arrogant. They had achieved their false level of authority within the Alliance based on the singular fact that they were savages, and not worthy of even full-status membership. Yet the Juireans were too ignorant to realize this fact. Instead of arrogance, shame and servitude should have been their way. But that was not the case, at least not within their ranks. They flaunted their illusionary power and authority for all to see. However, to others within the Alliance, the Juireans were a laughing-stock, at least behind their backs. Sensible beings did not provoke the beasts. Instead, they used them for their own purposes.
The Juirean glared at the Pleabaen for several seconds, waiting to be invited to sit. Simlan remained seated behind his desk, and then after an appropriate time, nodded toward a chair on the other side of the table.
The Overlord separated his blue cape and sat down, letting out a grunt of defiance as he did.
“I was not aware we had a meeting scheduled this morning,” Simlan stated. “It is only by my grace that I have found time for you.”
There was an unnatural pause from the alien before he responded.
“I have an update on the garrison stocking. I was anxious to witness your reaction,” said Overlord Oplim ra Unic. He was the head of the Juirean military forces and the liaison between the government on Juir and the Council. Simlan knew him well…and hated just about everything about the creature.
Simlan frowned. There was something different in the tone of the Juirean, something beyond the usual brashness. Was it…humor? That could not be. As far as Simlan knew, the Juireans had no sense of humor.
“You seem quite pleased with yourself this morning, Lord Oplim. I assume the stocking has gone well.”
“It is ahead of schedule, Simlan.”
The Klin leader bristled at the use of his singular name without title. This was rarely allowed, and especially not by an alien savage such as the Overlord. Yet Simlan calmed himself. Oplim was in an unusual mood this morning, and probably reverted to the informal speech of his kind with no offense intended. Simlan was himself in a rare mood. He would let it pass.
The alien continued. “All main garrisons are now stocked with Juirean Guards, and the fourteen-hundred auxiliary stations are also at full strength. I wish to also inform you that the forty-nine warships
you supplied my people are presently in orbit at this time.”
“Above Klinmon?” Simlan asked, perplexed. “Why are they not on patrol near Oannan?”
“They are here for Klinmon.”
Simlan nodded. The sole reason the Juireans were in the Alliance was because of Klinmon—the homeworld of the Klin. They served as a deterrent to the belligerent machinations of the Oanneans, as each race vied for supremacy within the organization. The Klin were without skill at physical combat, having rarely raised arms against their own kind, at least not for the past eight thousand starcycles. But what they lacked in military skill they made up in cunning. It was through Simlan’s delicate maneuvering seven cycles ago that he persuaded a majority of the Council to approve the addition of the Juireans, at least on a provisional level.
At that time there were six advance races within the Alliance Cluster…and one of savage practice. It would be a thousand cycles—if even then—before the Juireans would achieve a level of civilization to earn full membership in the Alliance. Yet despite this, Simlan saw an opportunity to not only appease the overzealous Juireans, but also to provide a means for the Klin to defend their claim on the leadership of the Alliance.
The Juireans were allowed in, if only to provide a pre-made military force for the Cluster. Ostensibly, the aliens were to provide security for all members of the Alliance. Yet everyone knew the Klin controlled the beasts. They had sponsored their membership and even begun to share limited technologies to help the savages achieve a modicum of modern infrastructure. These actions—and more—made the aliens beholden to the Klin.
As it turned out, the vary presence of the throwback creatures quelled any outright opposition to the Klin, just as Simlan had predicted. Now the Klin sat securely atop the hierarchy of the Seven World Common Alliance, if only six of the worlds had full voting rights.
And this was a status the Klin well deserved. They had initiated the first contact between the other races within the Cluster. And it was their technological genius that took the energy machines of the Bal and turned them into the flash weapons all races now employed, including the savage Juireans. It was also the Klin who saw the potential of the Oannan remote wave generators as a means to produce miniature black holes, resulting in the gravity space drive the Alliance now used to expand its reach and influence to another forty worlds beyond the Cluster. And the fusion reactors used by the Tacic had been improved upon, providing an unlimited source of clean, renewable energy that now powered the burgeoning stellar empire.
Yes, it was the Klin who laid the foundation for the first interstellar empire, an empire that would eventually spread across the galaxy and unite all civilized races under the leadership of the Klin.
Simlan now eyed the offensive alien across the desk from him. Little did the Overlord know his time within the higher echelons of the Alliance was nearing an end. Soon the Juireans would be expelled from the leadership Council, left to assume a lower place among the common worlds. They had served their purpose—Simlan’s purpose—and now they would be discarded like scraps from the previous night’s mainmeal.
“I appreciate your concern for the safety of Klinmon,” Simlan said, “but you must surely know the crisis has passed. Your security forces are no longer needed exclusively on Klinmon. There is more urgent need among the other worlds beyond the Cluster. Your strength and intimidation-factor will send a message to our newest members. There is a hierarchy within the Alliance. All races must know their place.”
As he studied the face of the Juirean, the Pleabaen grew confused. He noticed the slight trace of a grin on the face of the Overlord. The aliens rarely bared their teeth fully; such a practice was considered a sign of aggression, either a warning or a challenge. Again, this was a trait found more in the animal world than civilized society, which only reaffirmed Simlan’s impression of the Juireans. Was Oplim about to bare his teeth, or was he truly displaying humor with his expression?
“And what place do the Juireans earn within this hierarchy you speak of, Simlan?”
Again without title!
Simlan bit his bottom lip. He was the Pleabaen of the Klin—their leader. As such, he could amend timetables and make announcements as he saw fit. In light of the Juirean’s obstinate behavior and lack of respect, he felt now was as good a time as any to reveal his plans to the Overlord.
“It is no secret that a realignment will soon come to the Council,” he began. “Your service to the Alliance—the Juirean’s service—has been welcome. Your people served a vital purpose at the time, and even as I make this announcement, your people will still play a vital role in the affairs of state. Yet it is the decision of the Council that the Juireans are to be removed from the high table, after which it will go back as it was before the Juireans were granted entry. You must recall, even at the time of your joining, it was a provisional appointment. And during the time you’ve sat in on Council affairs, your race has been given access to technologies far beyond your societal level. This will be our payment to you for your service. And as mentioned earlier, the Juireans will still play a significant role, especially as the Alliance expands outward.”
Simlan did not reveal to the Overlord that there were other races within the new worlds better suited to the role of security force for the Alliance. These beings were strong and capable, yet didn’t exhibit the arrogance and insubordination of the Juireans. This reality would be known soon enough. For now, Simlan simply wished the Overlord gone from his presence.
Yet Simlan’s confusion remained. The Juirean sat silently on the other side of the desk, still displaying the thin crescent of a smile, apparently unaffected by the Pleabaen’s proclamation.
Just then a message light flashed on the desk. Simlan continued to stare at the Juirean, not sure whether or not he should break the power trance to answer the message.
“If you are wondering, you need not answer the link, Pleabaen Simlan,” said the Overlord.
At last, some respect for my office!
“And why should I not?”
“Because I can tell you the subject.”
“I am confused? How can you know?”
Simlan jerked when the Juirean suddenly rose to his feet, catching the Klin leader off guard. “Come. Please join me at your window, which offers an incredible view of the great Klin capital city of Polidnon.” The Juirean walked to the window, leaving Simlan to ponder whether to answer the flashing link or to join the strange-acting alien.
He chose to join the Overlord.
As he looked through the window and down the prominence to the vast city below, Simlan noticed curious plumes of black smoke just now reaching above the rooftops and billowing higher by the second. The Council building was located at the north end of the city, on the lower slopes of the Dandis mountain range and several thousand feet above the mean level of the metropolis. From here he could see twenty miles or more down the thoroughfares, along the spires and past the towers of Polidnon. At first, Simlan noticed only a handful of smoke columns, but soon they numbered in the dozens.
“I…I do not understand,” he whispered.
“Yet I thought the Klin were the superior intellect in the galaxy,” Oplim said mockingly, still wearing the slight trace of a smile. “You mean you do not recognize a cleansing when you see one?”
“A cleansing?”
“Yes, Simlan, a cleansing of the condescending Klin from their precious homeworld. In fact, I might amend that word. I prefer now to call it a reckoning. That better suits the occasion.”
Simlan snickered. The words of the alien were absurd, with no meaning, no context.
In his present state of dismay, Simlan only lightly gasped when the huge Juirean Overlord grabbed him by the back of his garment and pressed his face against the glass of the window. The idea of physical contact with the alien was so offensive that Simlan nearly vomited. Yet he held his stomach, in too much shock to fathom his conflicted emotions.
“Look, Simlan. This is the end resu
lt of your diabolical planning, your blatant and insulting manipulation of the Juirean people. You brought the savage into your home, nurtured him, and then gave him the means with which to defeat you. Does this sound like the actions of the superior race within the Cluster?”
“You cannot be serious,” Simlan screeched as he watched flying ships sweep down from the sky to strafe entire neighborhoods, while streaking missiles slammed into towering buildings. Explosions rocked the once-tranquil city, while famed structures—some a hundred cycles old—toppled over to crumble into roiling clouds of grey dust. “Klinmon…you can’t. Why?”
Oplim pulled the quivering Klin away from the glass and placed his face close to his. “Why? You have to ask why?” The Overlord tossed the weak, silver-skinned creature to the floor and then stood over him, now snarling with exposed teeth. “It was the Klin who sent messages to my planet, telling the people there to unite as one before membership in your Alliance would be granted. Because of that, a billion of my people died during the Unification Wars. And even after that, you waited. It was not until we were reaching out to you in our own ships, across the cold of space, that you finally arrived.”
“We hesitated once we witnessed the savagery of your wars.”
