by T. R. Harris
“No,” Kaylor said forcefully. “We are going through the Shield. We must know what happened to the surface team.”
“You cannot go into the Dysion Shield!” Ruszel stated. “The transit will be too difficult for you to attempt, and if you do by chance make it to the other side, this ship will draw too much attention. The drive signature is unique and not of any kind in the Nebula. We will be detected.”
“Line us up, Jym,” Kaylor said, ignoring Ruszel’s protestations. He slipped into the pilotseat and began to activate the drive.
“You cannot do this!” Ruszel grabbed Kaylor by the shoulder and spun his chair around. “It is too dangerous. You do not know the Shield.”
Kaylor looked up at the green alien with no emotion on his face. “We’re going through—or at least we will attempt it. We’re part of the mission to rescue Riyad, and as such, we have a responsibility to learn the fate of the other elements of the team. We may not make it through the Shield, but at least we will then die serving the mission. Now leave me alone and let me concentrate.”
Kaylor shrugged off Ruszel’s grip and spun the chair back around to the command console. “I’m creating a shallow well to move us in closer. Jym, can you help with detection and course corrections. This is going to be difficult.”
Jym moved to the navigation station and lit up his screen. “Ready when you are.”
“Okay, let us get this started—”
“Wait!” Ruszel cried out. Kaylor didn’t bother turning to look at him. “You cannot do this—but I can.”
Now Kaylor spun around. “Yes you can, but are you willing?”
“Yes,” Ruszel stated. “I do not want to die, yet if you attempt a crossing yourself, then we all will.”
“I’m willing to take the chance.”
“But I am not. Please give me the seat. I will take us through.”
“Don’t do anything foolish or contradictory,” Kaylor warned as he stood up. Ruszel fell into the chair and spun it around.
“Do not worry. I will do all I can ... but you already knew I would relinquish.”
“I was hoping. You didn’t strike me as the type of being who would passively give in to death, especially when there was something you could do to prevent it.”
The Pegasus moved into the first dense layers of the Shield; already Ruszel was making minor course corrections. “We are not through yet. Whether I succeed or fail will be known in about an hour.”
Chapter 16
With no one paying much attention to the escape pod, Trimen activated the tiny gravity drive and moved it out of the major traffic lanes surrounding the planet Elision. They moved off in the opposite direction from the Volseen Corridor, since that was where most of the space traffic was entering and leaving the Void. Within five hours, they were a light-year away and barreling towards the brilliant haze that was the Dysion Shield.
Trimen didn’t ask Sherri about the call sign for the Pegasus in all that time, content to let her mysterious mental process play out. Of course, his silence didn’t relieve the pressure she was feeling. She knew the numbers, she just couldn’t recall them. And the more she tried, the harder the task became.
There was food and water in the pod to last two people ten days if they were frugal, and the power would last ten times that. So except for the cramped conditions and lack of privacy, life within the pod was bearable. Even the lack of gravity could be tolerated for the duration of their other supplies without any lasting effects.
Sherri was confident she could recall the numbers if she could just find something to distract her. But with nothing to do in the pod except sit and stare at the forward control panel or out the tiny porthole, her mind kept continually wandering back to the call sign numbers. This only made her more frustrated.
Finally out of desperation, she decided to devote one hundred percent of her mental effort to remembering the numbers. Trying to ignore them and let them just pop into her head hadn’t worked. Maybe a full-on effort would do the trick.
She began by mentally recalling each number from zero to nine, to see if any would seem more prominent than others. She often did this when trying to recall names, and was surprised when she would reach a letter and suddenly the name would just appear out of her subconscious. Maybe the same would work with numbers.
After several runs through the digits—with no success—she decided to run them backwards. When she did, the number eight seemed to stick. Eight what? She tried the sequence again, and this time eight seemed to stick in her mind again. Two eights? Was that possible? Or was she just concentrating too much on eight—?
Eight-eight-four-six-two-two.
What was that? She thought. The numbers just seemed to explode in her head. But were they the right ones? The number seemed to bounce off her mental tongue.
“I think I have it,” she said. Her voice cracked and failed to project too much confidence. Trimen picked up on this.
“Are you sure? Your tone is not that confident.”
“I know, but the number keeps repeating itself. It won’t hurt to try.”
“Of course not. What is the call sign?”
She gave him the number. The Formilian entered in the frequency and then pressed the comm button. “Calling the Pegasus. Calling the Pegasus. If this frequency is correct, please respond. Security issues prevail.”
The interior of the pod was completely quiet, except for the roar of their breathing. Every breath was like a siren, and Sherri was afraid they wouldn’t be able to hear a response through the noise. Of course, her perception was amplified by the total lack of a countering sound.
After a minute, Trimen repeated the message. As the time click by, he turned to Sherri. “Maybe your memory is faulty. I would suggest you try—”
“This is the Pegasus! Who is this?” The voice was that of Jym, and carried with it all the emotion the tiny bear-like creature could muster.
Sherri leaned into the command console. “Jym it’s Sherri! I’m so glad to hear your voice!”
“The same here. We were under the belief that your ship had been destroyed.”
Trimen also leaned forward. “Can you switch to a secure channel? There is other traffic in the region.”
“Of course; switching now.” There was a slight pause before Jym’s voice blasted through the pod’s speakers again. “Can you still hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Jym!” Sherri said with glee.
“Are you safe?”
“Our ship was destroyed, but Trimen and I managed to escape in a pod. We’re about a light-year from Elision and headed two hundred-thirty degrees azimuth from Elision.”
“Wait one,” Jym said. Sherri knew Jym to be a superb navigator. He would be plotting the general vicinity of the pod.
“We have about ten days’ worth of supplies. You should be able to make the run from Tel’or to the Shield in about three days in the Pegasus—”
“We are already within the Dysion Void, Sherri.” Jym interrupted.
“You’re in the Void? Where?”
“Just one minute. Okay, we are approximately five light-years from your location. Ruszel finally agreed to help us navigate the Shield and when we lost contact with you and Adam, Kaylor decided to enter and investigate.”
“So you have had no contact with Adam either?”
“Not since he left McCarthy’s ship for the surface. Have you had any further communication?”
She hesitated while gathering her resolve. She knew her voice would betray her emotions. “I received a message from Adam that McCarthy had betrayed us again, and then our ship was attacked. Trimen and I were the only ones to escape. But Adam and the team are on Elision. They are either dead or being held captive.”
“Riyad was kept captive. I’m sure it is the same fate for the others.”
“Let’s hope so.” Her voice cracked. She knew that the situation was hopeless, so even if they were being held captive, there was nothing she could do about it.
“Kaylor here, Sherri,” said the new voice on the comm. “We are moving to your position. Time of arrival should be three hours in the Pegasus, assuming no unwarranted distractions.”
“Good,” Sherri said, feeling better now that Kaylor was on the way. The pale-skinned alien was very competent in most things he attempted.
“Once we have you onboard, we will then plan the rescue together.”
“Rescue?” Sherri was taken aback by the word.
“Of course,” Kaylor said his own voice strong and confident. “We are still a viable team. And the Kracori will not be expecting a second rescue attempt. The advantage will be ours.”
Chapter 17
Riyad managed to lift himself out of the wheelchair just long enough for Tindal and Adam to lower him to the floor of the cell. They positioned him so that the moment the door was opened he could be seen. Since the door was hinged and swung inward, there was a natural hiding place where Tobias and Rutledge stationed themselves.
Adam and John Tindal hid their metal rods along the side of the wheelchair, hidden from the view of the door. They would have only a split second to lift them as they moved toward the door.
Adam finally gave his nod, and Admiral Tobias began to bang on the door. “Help! Riyad Tarazi is having a seizure. He could die! Please help!” His voice echoed loudly off the concrete walls of the cell, surely loud enough to be heard outside.
Thirty seconds went by and still no one had come to the door. “It’s not going to work, Adam,” Riyad said. “They don’t give a fuck about us anymore.”
Tobias ignored him and yelled out again. Halfway through his call the latch to the door suddenly clicked. Everyone tensed.
The door swung open and two frowning Kracori took a step into the cell. “Be quiet. The medical condition of you Humans is of no—”
Tobias stepped around the door and brought the thin metal rod down hard on the arms of the lead Kracori, dislodging his flash weapon. Simultaneously, Chief Rutledge thrust his spear into the chest of the other guard. The rod didn’t penetrate the skin, but it did send the alien tumbling backwards into the outer corridor. Soon all four of the able-bodied Humans were outside the cell, having disarmed the two guards.
The hallway made a sharp turn to the right about fifteen feet away and two startled Kracori appeared just in time to have metal rods slash across their faces. Adam and Tindal grabbed the weapons from the two unconscious aliens while Tobias and the Chief went back in the cell to retrieve Riyad.
A moment later, the five Humans were turning the bend in the corridor ... when they encountered five more Kracori crouching with weapons at the ready. Adam and Tindal lifted their weapons and fingered the triggers. Nothing happened. Instinctively they did it again. Still nothing.
Immediately, Adam knew what was happening. He lowered his weapon and stood in the middle of the corridor, waiting.
A slow clapping sound was heard from behind the row of armed Kracori, and soon Nigel McCarthy was winding his way through the line of aliens. “Congratulations, Mr. Cain,” he said with a wide smile. “Seventeen minutes. Seventeen minutes since I left the cell and you have already managed to escape, acquire weapons, and probably would have made it out of the building if I hadn’t anticipated your move.”
He stepped up to Adam and jerked the MK-17 from his hand. “I also saw the cots, you bloody idiot,” he said with fire in his eyes. “I’m just like you, you seem to forget. I was checking the cell for weapons while you were doing the same.” He then reached inside his shirt and pulled out the silver medallion he wore around his neck. “And you also forgot I have one of these. I’m just glad I didn’t have to wait long for your escape attempt. Every extra minute I spend on this bloody planet is keeping me from starting my new life.”
A Kracori with a white sash across his chest stepped up next to McCarthy. “You were right,” the alien said with conviction. “But now the Langril wishes to speak to this one. I will be sure to include ample guards for the journey to his chambers.”
“That would be wise, my Ludif,” McCarthy said without taking his eyes off of Adam. “This one can be very slippery.”
“Slippery? I do not—”
“Never mind. Just take him. And Cain, this will be the last time we meet, so have a nice life, what’s left of it—”
Adam was knocked aside as John Tindal forced his way up to McCarthy. “You rotten son-of-bitch!” he yelled, as several Kracori rushed to restrain him.
McCarthy waved his hand at the guards. “That’s okay. Me and Mr. Tindal are old friends. He just wants to say goodbye in his own special way.”
“You’re such a coward, McCarthy,” Tindal said, his eyes fierce, his face only inches from Nigel’s. “Why don’t we just settle this once and for all—like men. You think you’re so tough—”
The flash of the MK lit up the hallway, along with a sharp crack as the level-one bolt entered Tindal’s chest. The petty officer’s face shuddered with a look of utter surprise, his eyes bulging and red. He stepped back slightly and looked down at the gaping wound just above his abdomen. He looked back at McCarthy’s face, just as his eyes rolled back in his head, and the body of John Tindal crumpled to the floor.
Adam’s knees grew weak and he slumped against the wall of the corridor. Rutledge and Tobias rushed past him to where John had fallen, scooping up the body and checking his vitals. When they realized he was beyond saving, the two of them glared up at McCarthy, held in check only by the still lethal weapon held firmly in the hand of the Brit.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Adam queried, too much in shock to react more.
“He has always challenged me, thinking he was more a man than me.”
“And he just proved it!” Rutledge yelled. “You sadistic bastard!”
“But I’m still standing, Master Chief.”
“You killed him in cold blood. What kind of soldier are you?” It was Andy’s turn to face McCarthy. He stood and thrust his chest against the barrel of the MK.
Adam took Andy by the arm. “Don’t, Admiral,” he said. “He’s liable to take the coward’s way out with you, too.”
McCarthy smiled, not allowing the insults to faze him. “I’ve been kicking around this galaxy for over twenty years—longer than any of you—and I have to say the only thing I have truly feared is another Human. Maybe it’s because I know what we’re capable of. So as long as any of you live, you’re a danger.” He looked down at Tindal’s inert body. “Now there’s one less. Don’t tempt me into eliminating all my threats.”
“This one is summoned before the Langril,” the white-sashed Kracori reiterated.
McCarthy nodded without taking his eyes off Adam. “Don’t worry, Commander, I won’t spoil Nomar’s fun. You can take him ... and return the others to their cell. But this time don’t let your guards fall for the oldest trick in the book.”
“What book?”
McCarthy shook his head. “Never mind, just do your job.” He then addressed Adam. “Goodbye Mr. Cain. May you rot in Hell.”
“Right alongside you.”
“No doubt, no doubt.” McCarthy turned away and pressed himself through the rush of Kracori guards coming down the corridor.
Adam watched the ginger-haired man until he disappeared around another bend in the hallway. I swear we will meet again, if I have to make it my life’s mission, Adam chanted under his breath. I will kill you Nigel McCarthy. I will kill you dead!
Chapter 18
The position of Langril was that of supreme leader of the Kracori race, an elected title granted from the Ludif Council. Daninf Kicon was the most-prior Langril, having served for over forty years in that position. As such, he had inherited the Kracori affiliation with the Klin, as had the last fifty-plus office-holders before him, spanning a timeframe of over eight hundred years.
Daninf had also personally groomed his replacement, and when the time came, had fully endorsed Nomar Polimic for the position. The former Langril now served as an unofficial adv
isor to the Council and the new Langril, and even though Daninf had lived through the tense years since McCarthy’s disappearance from Elision, he had also recommended that Nomar accept the terms the renegade Human was offering. Adam Cain was a much larger prize than was McCarthy.
Daninf had been informed that Adam Cain was now in the custody of Kracori guards and would be arriving in the Langril’s private chambers at any time. Nomar didn’t resent the fact that the former leader wanted to be present for the interview with the Human, it was just that he wanted to make sure Cain knew who was in charge.
Nomar chuckled when he considered the absurdity of his thoughts. Adam Cain’s life expectancy was now measured in hours, so why should the Langril be concerned with what the Human believed or did not believe? If it was completely up to Nomar, he would simply have the Human and his companions put to death immediately. However, out of deference to Daninf’s long support for Nomar’s career and position, he had agreed to this conference. He knew Daninf had a personal grudge against the Human and this was his way of finding satisfaction. If the roles were reversed, Nomar would have insisted on the same.
When Adam Cain was brought before the two most-powerful Kracori leaders, Nomar took a moment to study the Human.
He was smaller than the average Kracori, with pale pink skin with a smooth texture. Physically, he was a Prime; two legs, two arms, hands with five digits, stereoscopic eyes—the same as thousands of other races throughout the galaxy. However, Nomar also knew that the Human was unique among those thousands of races. They shared many of the same characteristics that set the Kracori apart from the rest as well. They were both heavy-gravity beings, which in itself was not unique. And yet on their planets the two brother races had evolved to be swift of feet, strong and coordinated. To counter the gravity of their homeworlds, their bone and muscle systems had developed to be much tighter and durable than others. Heavy-gravity beings were certainly not unique in the galaxy, but it was an almost strange mutation that made it appear as if both Kracori and Human alike were not of their planets of origin. They developed beyond their worlds, to dominate them through strength, quickness and intelligence. And when placed on the thousands of normal worlds throughout the galaxy, Kracori and Humans excelled.
