A Clash of Aliens (The Human Chronicles Book 13)

by T. R. Harris

  One particular dignitary stepped forward. “You may not recognize me, yet we have met before.”

  Adam studied the face. He did look familiar. “You have to be the leader in the den when I was here before.”

  “Correct. I am Lun Szy.”

  “That was a very effective disguise. I barely recognize you now. And I see you speak my language quite well.”

  “Language programs have been in use for several thousand years on J’nae. Unfortunately, there are not too many languages that have survived the Sol-Kor. When a race is harvested, it does not warrant keeping their language on file. Your language is our most recent addition, stolen I might add from the databanks of the Sol-Kor.”

  “Are you in charge?”

  “No…not in the least. I am a commander in our military force, covert operations. Our leaders are the Scribes. They are elders with knowledge passed down through many generations. They are sustained artificially to keep their spirit and knowledge alive.”

  “How old are they?”

  “The oldest is over two thousands of our cycles old. Converting time intervals to yours, that would be close to nineteen hundreds of your years.”

  “You do have computers to store the knowledge, don’t you?”

  “Of course. However, it is mainly for tradition and continuity that we maintain the rank of Scribe. When a species has faced the brink of extinction such as the Hal’ic have, keeping links to the past alive becomes very important.”

  Adam nodded. He looked around the spaceport. “Very impressive. And all built under the noses of the Sol-Kor.”

  “This is one of several thousand storage ports beneath the surface. But I am getting ahead of myself. We have an appointment with the Scribes. They are most anxious to meet you.”

  Lun seemed to add significance to the word you, leaving Adam with the impression that the Hal’ic held him in some special regard. He couldn’t imagine why. Sure, he’d killed the former Queen, but all that did was open the door for the mutant J’nae to take over.

  The mutant J’nae…and the planet J’nae. He knew that was going to get confusing.

  The small delegation boarded an open-air electric cart with six rows of comfortable seating, three across. They left the storage port—as Lun had called it—through a wide opening and entered a rock-walled tunnel easily a hundred meters wide by fifty high. Similar vehicles scurried about, passing into and out of adjoining tunnels. All in all, it was an impressive scene, which reminded Adam of the underground cities of Castor in the Fringe. Yet the Castorian cities were overcrowded, dirty, and packed full of a menagerie of exotic alien species. These corridors were clean, the population homogenous and organized.

  The cart pulled into a narrow tunnel and continued on for another five minutes before arriving at a tall stone façade carved into the rock wall of the cavern. It was an imposing, columned edifice, appearing much older than the other structures he’d seen.

  The party climbed a set of twenty wide stairs and entered the chamber through broad archways.

  “Through here,” Lun directed. “This is our Convening Center. The Scribes reside here and conduct business. We will be meeting with the governing triumvirate, the three appointed decision-makers among the Scribes. As an outsider, I would not expect you to recognize what an honor this is, but for us this is a special privilege.”

  “I appreciate the heads-up, Lun. I’ve been on too many worlds where something like this was left unexplained, and then punished if not respected.”

  Only Lun, Fanon, and Adam entered the chamber. The rest of the silent entourage remained outside.

  Adam had been half expecting what he found inside the room, after Lun’s mention of artificial means to keep the aged Scribes alive. Each of the three rested in half-shell containers, with a variety of tubes and wires connected to computers and elaborate mechanical devices. The creatures inside the high-tech hospital beds looked to be in remarkably good health considering they were each probably over a thousand years old. Granted, they weren’t going on any mountain hikes or playing pick-up basketball anytime soon, not in their condition, but they did appear to have certain dexterity within their arms and faces, and their eyes were bright and inquisitive.

  “Ah, Adam Cain, it is a pleasure to have you among us,” said the Scribe in the center position. His skin appeared tanned and robust. “I am Gan Doli. To my right is Vaz Nha and on my left is Kaos Luz. If it has not been explained to you, we are the governing Hal’ic among the ninety-six Scribes still living.”

  Adam bowed flamboyantly, before gushing: “It is indeed a great honor on my part to meet the Scribes of J’nae. I must thank you for instructing your most skilled and confident agent Fanon to save me from the Sol-Kor prison I was in.” At this point, Adam would kiss whatever ass he had to if it helped get him home. He was hoping he didn’t overdo it…

  Gan laughed. “Your comments are appreciated, although I detect some of Lun’s contribution to the enthusiasm you display. And as for you, Agent Fanon, I find your appearance both disturbing and amusing. I understand you are to undergo a reversal procedure soon?”

  “I am quite anxious to shed this horrid exterior. I get such vicious looks from those unaware of my mission.”

  “Ranking Officer Lun, see to it that Fanon is given top priority. His service and sacrifice on behalf of the Hal’ic is to be richly rewarded.”

  “Adam Cain?” said Scribe Vaz Nah—Adam believed that was his name—having all these new names thrust upon him was going to take some getting used to. “May I inquire as to your profession on your homeworld? Since you arrived with specialists to assassinate the Eternal Queen, I assume you have military training?”

  “Yes, Scribe Vaz Nah—I hope I am addressing you correctly.”

  “Just Vaz will do. We are within the inner chambers, no need to abide by formalities.”

  “Yes, Vaz, I am a captain in what was once our naval forces. I now hold the same rank in the combined forces of the Orion-Cygnus Union, the stellar empire presided over by my race.”

  “You are called Humans?”

  “Yes, from the planet Earth.”

  “You do realize the name translates into dirt, ground, and other such terms?”

  “It’s been an ongoing glitch in the translation programs.”

  “Do not apologize. It could also reflect a deep reverence for the ground from which your race evolved.”

  Adam’s smile was genuine. “That’s possible, but knowing my people, I doubt it.”

  Gan spoke again: “You are humble even within your own minds. That is to be admired. Now, continuing with the last line of inquiry: since you arrived on Kor with only limited personnel, are we also to assume that you—and those who came with you—are the most highly-skilled military operatives in your galaxy? We have assumed you would have to be such to have been chosen for the mission, and to have carried it off successfully.”

  Adam smiled. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. But it is a fact that my race does have a propensity for warfare. Others accuse us of being savages, which is why we are so good at it, I guess. Unfortunately, it is a skill acquired through countless wars against our own kind.”

  “We know of such concepts, although since the coming of the Sol-Kor, we have not suffered from such internal struggles for a very long time.” Gan turned his head toward first one and then the other Scribe. Adam wasn’t sure if they shared some psychic ability, but when his attention turned back to Adam, he spoke as if a decision had been jointly arrived at.

  “We wish to be honest with you, Adam Cain. The Hal’ic have grown into a highly advanced and powerful race. We number nearly two billion individuals, and we possess factories and other facilities which allow us to maintain this population and civilization well hidden from the occasional Sol-Kor fly-overs. Yet we also suffer from a fatal condition.”

  Damn. Adam didn’t want to hear that. He was beginning to like the Hal’ic.

  His mind began to wander. Did it have something to
do with living underground for so long, or was there a disease spreading through the confined spaces? Was it something hereditary…?

  When the Scribe didn’t continue, Adam was forced to pull it out of him. “What is this condition? Is there nothing you can do about it?”

  “Yes, there is something we can do. And that is why we have brought you here, to save the Hal’ic race from extinction.”

  ********

  Adam cursed his fertile imagination. All he could see now was the image of his body strapped to the table of a mad scientist as his blood was slowly drained from his body and passed along to waiting rows of Hal’ic lying on similar tables. Thousands of years without sunlight had left the aliens with a severe vitamin D deficiency, and if they didn’t get his blood, they would all die a horrible and painful death—all two billion of them.

  But that was not what Scribe Gan said.

  “Adam Cain, the Hal’ic people lack experience.”

  Adam was momentarily stunned, both from the simplicity of the statement and from his return to reality after his flight of imagination.

  “Experience? I don’t understand. In what way?”

  “It is quite simple,” the Scribe said. “We number two billion, and our active military comprises nearly nine million of them, with over a hundred million more engaged in support activities. We have over two hundred thousand military starships of various kinds built and ready for action. We have the means of counteracting the Sol-Kor influencing beams. We even have advanced weaponry far beyond what the feeders possess. We are so close to Kor, and yet the evil beasts have no suspicion that we exist. For thousands of years, all the Hal’ic have done is prepare for the moment when we would seek revenge against the Sol-Kor. Adam Cain, the Hal’ic are ready. Our time has come.”

  “So what’s the problem?

  “The problem? Since the Hal’ic have spent our entire existence underground and in hiding, our military lacks any kind of real experience beyond what simulators can provide. We have trained and we have drilled, yet there is no substitute for real-life experience…the type of experience you have lived.”

  “But you say you have simulators?”

  “Yes, we do. Yet we have never been able to hold any large scale operational exercises. We have not had to change tactics in the heat of a real battle. We have not experienced battlefield injuries or the agony of seeing friends fall in combat, at least in true form. We have never had to fight…for real, not for five thousand years.”

  “Those are things that can’t be taught,” Adam said quickly. “They happen as they happen and you just have to pray you can handle it.”

  “That is exactly our point. Unless we’ve experienced such events firsthand, we do not know how we will react.”

  “Nobody really does, not until it’s staring them in the face.”

  “You and your people have thousands of years of history demonstrating how others have reacted to such tragedies and necessities of war. You may not have personally experienced them all, yet your species has. This knowledge—along with instinctive courage—is ingrained in your being. War and combat is not something you fear, because—as you say—you can handle it.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, Scribe Gan. Fear is a constant in battle. I’d even go so far to say it’s a necessity. It keeps you sharp, alert, and open to options. Only a fool isn’t afraid in combat.”

  “Adam Cain,” said Scribe Kaos Luz, speaking for the first time. “It is for such insights as those that we have sought you out…so you can lead our forces in a mighty confrontation with the evil Sol-Kor, to help bring eternal freedom and sunlight to the Hal’ic of J’nae.”

  Adam’s jaw fell open. He looked over at Fanon and Lun; both shared his look of astonishment.

  “You can’t be serious? I’m just one man.”

  “What is a man?”

  “That’s another word for a Human.”

  “Oh, I see the correlation now.”

  “Good, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. I can’t possibly lead a nine-million strong army—as well as two hundred thousand starships—in a war against the Sol-Kor.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not? Because…I just can’t. I’m not Hal’ic. Hell, I’m not even from this universe.”

  “Those are not valid arguments. Is not the Sol-Kor your enemy as well?”

  “They are, but we’re talking big numbers here. There’s a trillion of them, compared to your two billion.”

  “Is that your major concern, that we are too few?”

  “That is one of my concerns.”

  “Will not your race join in our struggle? It was our understanding they would.”

  Adam looked at Fanon. “I said I would try to convince them, but I can’t do that and lead your forces at the same time, not from here. I need to get back Earth.”

  “The only way to return you would be to secure transfer portals currently controlled by the Sol-Kor. We can only secure those through conflict.”

  Adam’s mind was racing. He was confused and desperate. Something was happening here that could turn out really good for him. Or really bad. He felt his brain wasn’t firing fast enough on all cylinders for him to tell which.

  “So you would start the war even before you get any commitment from Earth to help?”

  “It would appear to be our only option, if we are to gain the support of your people.”

  “But…you can’t win, not in the long-term.”

  “Yet, in the short-term…we have you.”

  “No you don’t. I just want to get home, and I need to do it soon. Anytime now my friends are going to show up on Kor looking for me, and they’re all going to die if I don’t get back before they make the jump.”

  “And what if Kor is a smoldering wasteland when they arrive, with no opposition waiting to destroy them? Would that not serve your friends’ purposes as well?”

  “Sure it would. But defeating Kor…you gotta be crazy.”

  “I assure you, Adam Cain, we are not crazy. Within the space of a couple of days, the Hal’ic could unleash upon Kor a military force of such overwhelming proportions that the feeders could not possibly counter.”

  “Then you don’t need me.”

  “We need to you guide the invasion, to study the battlefields, to alter plans if it becomes necessary. But most importantly, we need your instincts for war.”

  “And what if you do smash Kor? What about all the other goddamn Sol-Kor spread across half a dozen universes? Do you think they’ll just shrivel up and die once their homeworld is destroyed? I’ve seen the Sol-Kor in action. They are single-minded and unaffected by mass losses. They will descend upon J’nae—the planet J’nae—so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

  “Then we will fight them on other fronts,” said Gan Doli. “Please realize the Hal’ic have done nothing for the past five millennia but prepare for this moment. If we all die—and the Sol-Kor die as well—we will be content with that reckoning. And if the feeders do come out ahead, their power and influence will be greatly diminished. The Sol-Kor are but one species, and look what they have managed to do. The Hal’ic are one people as well. Why can we not be the death of the feeders? The answer is: we can be…with the proper leadership. With your leadership.”

  Adam felt weak-kneed, yet there was no place to sit. If he could have, he would have squatted right there on the floor. He looked at the faces of the five Hal’ic in the room. All eyes were on him.

  “You know what pressure this puts on me?”

  “You have apparently lived a life of pressure—and of responsibility—and you have survived. All we ask is that you guide us. Help us make the right decisions as the battle advances. Help us rid the universe—all universes—of the scourge of the Sol-Kor.”

  “When are you planning to launch your attack?”

  “Whenever you say we are ready.”

  “And once you and your commanders have gained enough real-world experience…and we’ve captured a transit p
ortal?”

  “Then you can return home to help enlist the assistance of your people, and all the peoples of your universe.”

  “And what of J’nae—the Queen J’nae?”

  “She is but one creature. As our ships darken the skies of Kor, all she will be able to do is watch while her empire crumbles around her. It will be as it was five thousand years ago on the planet that is her namesake, when her people first made their deadly presence known to us. And even though she may survive the devastation, it will be you, Adam Cain, who will leave her with nothing to rule. Is that not worth your time and effort?”

  Adam looked once again at the anxious faces staring at him, hope and concern in their eyes. And he smiled. Even before he spoke he knew they wouldn’t understand, but he said it anyway. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

  “You had me at hello.”

  Chapter 18

  Syrus Jacs had departed Panurland with a shopping list of items the mutant needed to complete his conversion of the Najmah Fayd. He would be back in six days.

  Within days of his leaving, Riyad was climbing the walls, growing ever more panicked with each passing hour. He had no idea how long Adam would last in the Sol-Kor universe, and now days were turning into weeks. Sherri wasn’t faring much better.

  “You must leave the engine room immediately and let me work in peace!” Panur ordered. “You cannot help, and your continued presence here is slowing me down.”

  “C’mon, Panur,” Riyad said, “here are two extra sets of hands. Surely we can do something to speed up the process.”

  “No, surely you cannot. Now go before I am forced to take more drastic measures.”

  Sherri tugged at Riyad’s sleeve. “Let’s go. He’s not going to complete the conversion anyway until Syrus gets back.”

  “Obstinate little bastard,” Riyad said under his breath.

  “I have extremely acute hearing, Riyad.”

  “I said obstinate little bastard!” He yelled it this time.