Human Chronicles Part 2 Book 2: The Apex Predator (26 page)

“Mr. McCarthy – to use your formal prefix – I believe you have failed to keep abreast of galactic affairs, unlike we Juireans.”

“What do you mean; has something happened on Earth?”

“Indeed it has,” Wydor began. “The Juirean people ruled the galaxy for four-thousand years, and as such we are never without knowledge of events throughout the Expansion, and even within your tiny empire in the Far Arm. It seems that your planet has once again been attacked by the Kracori, yet this time with much better results. Even though your race has managed to minimalize the damage, the casualties should climb above a billion. In addition, your fleet is currently engaged in a war with another Far Arm race called the Jusepi, who appear to be in alliance with the Klin. So Mr. McCarthy, even though they may know the location of Elision, your fellow Humans are in no position to act upon this information.”

Nigel thought quickly before responding. “Not now, maybe,” he countered. “Yet if the Kracori did as you say, then the Humans will have even more of an incentive to move against Elision. It’s just a matter of when … and that gives you the opportunity to launch your own strike before the Humans do.” He paused for effect. “So as I see it, this has only improved my negotiating position. My information would have no value if the Humans beat you to Elision.”

“And why would we not let the Humans attack Elision? Our enemy would be destroyed and we would have spent no effort in achieving that end result.”

Nigel leaned back in this seat and surveyed the faces of the other Juireans at the table. Alien faces were so hard to read, and yet he could recognize hatred when he saw it. As Wydor had said, if there was one thing the Juireans hated more than him, it was the Kracori.

“And how would that go over with the Juirean population?” Nigel asked, desperately hoping this line of thinking would produce results. “Sure, the Kracori would be gone, but not by your hands. Your redemption, both in the eyes of your people, as well as the Expansion, will only come if you are the ones to destroy the Kracori. And just think of the humiliation you will suffer if it’s the Humans – of all people – who demonstrate the strength and resolve, when the Juireans have not? The Kracori savagely sacked
your
homeworld and drove you into exile—”

“It was to avoid the approaching Human fleet that we came here, McCarthy, so your race is just as culpable in our disgrace as are the Kracori.”

“Pardon me, My Lord … but bullshit,” Nigel said. “If the Humans had not driven the Kracori from Juir, then the Expansion would now be ruled by a coalition of Klin and Kracori, both of which are your mortal enemy. And do you think the Klin-Kracori alliance would have voluntarily relinquished control of the Expansion as the Humans did? Of course not! Eventually the K’s would have grown strong enough to move against you here – and if I could find you, then surely they could, too. So, in reality, the Humans did you a favor.”

“And what makes you think we would even want to engage in such a major undertaking, even if we could? We have settled into this area of space quite well. Re-militarizing ourselves would involve a major effort on our part.”

Nigel smiled again. “Because you’re Juireans, that’s why. Your race unified and civilized two-thirds of the galaxy. You can’t fool me into believing that you are content with being non-players in the game.”

Nigel noticed the frowns on the faces of the Juireans as they fought through the translation. “You want to be in charge again,” Nigel stated, helping cut through the confusion “It’s your nature, your destiny. And destroying the Kracori will restore the honor and respect throughout the galaxy that you want and deserve. Destroying Elision could be just the beginning of the new Juirean Resurrection.”

He hesitated as the Juireans remained quiet in thought. Finally he decided to go for the sale. “Lord Wydor, and other members of the Council, it’s time you put aside your hatred for me and look at the bigger picture. You are a proud and powerful race; you cannot remain hidden away here in some faraway corner the galaxy. I’m offering you a chance at redemption, a chance to regain you prior status. Let’s work together on this, and for the benefit of all. I ask little in return, yet what I offer is a renewed Juirean dominance within the Expansion – and beyond.”

To his frustration, the Juireans still remained silent, but he dared not push the issue further. He had made his case, and it was a strong one, and the fact that he was still alive showed that the Juireans were at least somewhat interested in what he had to say. It was out of his hands now … and there would be no escaping this time. Either they would agree to his terms – or Nigel McCarthy would die.

Finally Wydor spoke. “The Council is a deliberative body; therefore, we will adjourn to contemplate your offer and negotiation. You will be placed in a secure location until a decision is rendered. Guards!”

Chapter 39

T
he secure location in which he was placed consisted of a suite of rooms within the stadium building; first-rate and obviously reserved for members of the Council Elite. As he explored the large apartment-like suite – even conjuring up a strong drink from the processor – Nigel kept reminding himself that with the Juireans discussing his offer it meant that his chances were better than average. He hadn’t really expected them to make a spontaneous decision, he only hoped they would. And now as the minutes passed, he was growing more confident in his chances – or was it the alcohol talking?

The only variable in the equation was whether they would go ahead and let the Humans destroy Elision, choosing instead to remain cloistered in their peaceful existence within this distant cluster of stars. The option would save them time, money and personnel – and Elision would still be destroyed.

He hoped he hadn’t misread Juirean nature, but how could he? They were the ones who initiated the outward movement from their beloved homeworld so many millennia ago, single-mindedly acquiring more and more territory until they ruled it all. That showed the Juireans had an innate sense of their own manifest destiny, and ten years as just another insignificant race among thousands wasn’t enough time to breed that instinctive trait out of them.

At least that’s what Nigel kept telling himself. He went to get another drink….

********

Elder Wydor remained in the vast chamber long after the Human was removed, discussing the situation with other members of the Council. Initial reactions ranged from a complete rejection of the offer and the immediate execution of the murderous alien, to a full-hearted desire to retake the Expansion, beginning with the destruction of Elision. Others wanted to let the Humans do all the hard work, allowing them to sacrifice their own personnel and resources to accomplish the goal.
A
t that point, the Juireans would still be free to regain control of the Expansion – if they so desired.

Wydor had the most-personal connection to the events surrounding the crimes of Nigel McCarthy, having been present at the time of Hydon’s abduction. And yet he was also the Elder of the Council Elite, and as such was responsible for an entire race of beings. He had to view every decision dispassionately – and to his frustration – much of the Human’s argument had been true.

When the Juireans had first retreated – not only from Juir but from the entire Expansion – they had breathed a collective sigh of relief that the responsibility of governing now fell to others. They looked back over their history and saw the flaws of the system they had built and the toll it had taken on them as a race. To the masses, this time away from power was to be a time to recover, to reevaluate how the Juireans lived and interacted with one another.

Yet Wydor was now noticing a shift in attitude. So many of his kind had struggled to equate their surrendering of the Expansion with the time the Juireans withdrew from the First Empire and returned to the core worlds. Three hundred years later, their ancestors had reemerged, a stronger, more-focused race, and began the formation of The Expansion.

Yet that retreat – if one was to even call it that – had been voluntary; this current one was not. And now his people were growing restless – as was he.

The Juireans still numbered close to two billion individuals, and their fleet consisted of over five-thousand ships of war, making them still one of the most formidable forces in the galaxy. By remaining here in the Valicem Cluster, many believed the Juireans were not realizing their full potential.

As the debate within the chamber began to swing more in favor of accepting the Human’s offer, there began a further discussion as to the ultimate future of the Juirean race. Many in the Council now sought a return to power within the Expansion. Wydor and the other members of the Council were fully aware of the dismal state of the Expansion at the time. The Silean Administrator Kroekus had done his best, yet without a strong central power to reign in the more rebellious factions, the Expansion was rapidly disintegrating. The Council found this to be especially disturbing. The Juireans had created and built the Expansion, and now it was fated to disappear – without action of their part.

The Juireans could save the Expansion, while at the same time regaining their rightful place at its head. And eliminating the Kracori – in a very bold and public display of Juirean power – would be the catalyst for that return.

Yet, as Nigel McCarthy had intimated, they would have to act before the Humans.

Wydor grimaced as the final vote was taken; the killer of his friend and mentor was about to be rewarded with all he requested. It didn’t seem fair, yet the decision was best for the Juirean people as a whole.

The Elder supported the will of the Council, and even though the Human would believe he had won, Wydor would not rest until Hydon Ra Elys was avenged.

So the last topic before the meeting was adjourned was how the Juireans would betray the Human Nigel McCarthy, while still securing the Elision coordinates….

Chapter 40

Nigel McCarthy…

N
igel McCarthy was beyond ecstatic. Nineteen hours before, he had slaved the four Class-4’s he’d finagled out of the Juireans to the controls of the single Class-5, and now with the equivalent of fifty-billion credits – that’s right, fifty
billion
– secure in the ship’s hold, Nigel McCarthy was master of his domain and rapidly speeding away from Juirean space.

He had bested the former rulers of the galaxy, while providing himself with more wealth than any single being had ever acquired in the history of the Milky Way – even greater than that fat slob, Kroekus.

Once he was firmly ensconced in one of the major space-lanes of the galaxy, Nigel cranked up the speed and sent a CW-link to the Juirean Council. The coordinates he sent were true – after all, he, too, would really like to see the nasty Kracori race destroyed – yet he also knew it would take time for the Juireans to verify the information.

McCarthy had no illusions that the Juireans would actually keep their word not to come after him, yet the head start he had would allow him time to effectively disappear. After that, he would have all the time in the world to plan his next major move against a stinking alien universe.

********

Elder Wydor was notified the moment the coordinates were received, and as he studied the datapad, it was as he had suspected: the
Juddle Nebula
. Ever since the mysterious Kracori had surfaced as
 
 
allies of the hated Klin, the Juireans had sought to locate their hidden homeworld. Yet with four-thousand years of galactic exploration behind them – along with all corresponding charts and data – it wasn’t a matter of
locating
an unknown planet, but rather verifying that a world they had catalogued as being of one identity was in reality that of the planet Elision.

The verification process took a total of forty-two standard minutes and was accomplished without sending any live assets to the region.

Wydor made what was essentially a Juirean smile when he thought how the traitorous Human Nigel McCarthy believed he had time to escape before the Juireans were secure with the coordinates. Now that they were confirmed, McCarthy was expendable. The spaceships and credits were insignificant to the Juireans, so their loss would mean nothing – if it came down to that. However, the death of Nigel McCarthy would bring immense satisfaction to the Elder.

He sent the command, and the agents hidden aboard the Class-5 would now be activated. Wydor nodded as he internally congratulated himself on the plan he’d devised. The foolish Human – he even thought his special device would save him. Little did he know the Juireans were quite aware of the Formilian telepathy technology; in fact thousands of years ago they had assisted in its development.

The Human’s fate was sealed. He would be captured and returned to Wydor for disposal in a most satisfying manner – for Wydor at least. Or the explosives hidden within the tiny fleet would be detonated.

Wydor truly hoped McCarthy could be taken alive. He would gain such joy is seeing the face of the ugly Human again … knowing his fate was held within the hands of Wydor bin Sulic. Yes, please take him alive.

********

The medallion Nigel McCarthy wore around his neck was a pale imitation to the device the Formilian Speaker had imbedded in her body. Nigel knew this, yet he did know his unit was capable of many simple functions that still put him light-years ahead of someone without such a device.

And one of the most basic of these functions was the detection of flash weapons within his range. Energy weapons gave off a distinct signature, and his medallion was programmed to alert him any time such a weapon was near.

Nigel was in the ship’s lounge area – a voluminous chamber aboard the huge starship, originally designed to accommodate up to a couple of hundred beings at a time. Its size and emptiness bothered him, so as to not be so overwhelmed by the room itself, Nigel had placed a cluster of couches and chairs off in a far corner and created a small enclave he called his own. He felt more comfortable, more secure, within the smaller space.

 
It was while cozied up in a large chair and entering scenarios for galactic domination into a datapad on his lap, that Nigel detected the activation of six flash weapons within the range of his telepathy device. The alert was startling and sent the former British SAS officer into immediate action.

The bloody Juireans! It had only been an hour since he’d sent the Elision coordinates. How could they have verified them so quickly? It didn’t matter; somehow they had, and now he was expendable.

Nigel had expected the Juireans to launch some sort action against him; he just hadn’t expected it to occur so soon.
So they’ve placed assassins aboard. What these bloody bastards don’t know is that I’ll be ready for them.

He followed the weapon’s trace deeper into the massive ship, down four levels and to the cargo bay. The six targets were now in a room just off the main chamber, probably planning their assault against him. They would be unaware that he was already in position to strike.

He had armed himself with a Xan-Fi flash rifle, along with his omnipresent black-handled commando knife strapped to his calf. This should be easy….

He approached the door to the room while hugging a side wall, flash rifle held high against his chest. There was light coming from inside, visible through a small window set in the door. Nigel did a quick peak inside; there was a stack of gear bags on the table, and two of the flash weapons next to them. He didn’t see any of the assassins, but that didn’t mean they weren’t inside. He reached down toward the depression in the door that served as a handle; he tensed and prepared for entry—

Just then three sharp pains erupted from his right shoulder and chest; when he looked down, he saw the three silver darts stuck within his shirt. Since he wasn’t wearing a flak vest or other type of protection, he knew the projectiles had penetrated his skin.

Nigel ran past the door to the storage room and dove behind a stack of crates before any more darts could find their target. The fact that his assailants were using non-lethal weapons meant they intend to take him alive – and they had also used the signature of the flash weapons to lure him to the cargo hold. This raised a whole new set of scenarios.

So the Juireans were aware of the capabilities of his medallion. He should’ve known better not to underestimate the bloody bastards; they didn’t get to their position in the galaxy by being stupid.

He pulled the darts from his skin and lifted one to his nose. He could pick up the slight trace of a medicinal smell, but had no way of knowing what kind of drug the darts had been laced with. Could the Juireans know what was necessary to take down a Human? Again, he had to assume they did.

Just then he noticed a slight blurring of his peripheral vision as the drug began to circulate within his body. He tried to calm his heartbeat, but it wasn’t easy. An adrenalin shot would help counter the effects of the drug, yet he was aboard an alien spacecraft, and even if he was able to make it to a medical station, he had no way of reading labels written in Juirean.

He needed time to think – and for the drug to wear off – but we was sure the agents would not give him the opportunity. Already he could hear the shuffling of heavy feet on the metal deck as they closed on his position.

It was a good bet these agents were not Juireans; the gravity aboard the ship would be too high for them to operate effectively. So these would be heavy-worlders; strong yet slow if the trend held true. After all, what set Humans and Kracori apart from the rest of the galaxy was that they were both swift and agile within their native gravities. He quickly thought of a way to slow the lumbering beasts down even more – even though he would be affected as well.

He reached out with his medallion and located the gravity control for this section of the ship, and with a mental command cranked it up to four times the current level.

Besides the creaking of the walls and deck around him, along with the collapsing of fragile shelving not built to withstand such force, Nigel could hear faint moaning within the room coming from living creatures. He was himself compressed on the deck, his muscles now having to accommodate his over eight-hundred pound weight. He lay back on the deck and closed his eyes, struggling to breathe and feeling the effects of the drug now consume most of his senses. The drug would actually help him by saving his body from the pain associated with the heavier gravity.

He would rest now, calming his heart rate as best he could and hoping the aliens in the room would be equally handicapped. All he needed were a few minutes to let the drug do its worse before allowing his body to recover. Just a little time was all he needed….

He managed not to lose consciousness entirely, and so he was aware of the groans coming from the fatigued aliens. One in particular was extremely pronounced and originated from across the huge cargo hold. This was near where the gravity controls were located, and Nigel knew one of his assailants was attempting to reach the controls. The creature was having a hard time of it, and Nigel was still able to retain enough awareness through his medallion that he knew he could counter any action should the alien reach the control panel. At least he could if he remained conscious.

The drug was now affecting all his muscles and not just his eyesight. He was becoming stiff and unable to move even his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he had taken an adequate dose of the drug to achieve the alien’s desired effect, or if it was a just combination of the drug and the gravity that was limiting his movements. He just hoped the aliens wouldn’t be able to reach him. If they did, he would be defenseless and vulnerable.

He had trouble keeping track of time, as he was sure now that he had lapsed into unconsciousness briefly from time to time as he lay on the deck. But then he became aware of a tingling in his extremities. He could now move his toes and his fingers – his senses were returning!

Another few minutes passed and his vision began to clear. Still the oppressive gravity held him captive to floor. He struggled to roll over, and was rewarded with a clearing of his head. He discarded the heavy flash rifle and began to crawl across the deck, zeroing in on the nearest moaning that still could be heard in the cargo bay.

In his distant past on back on Earth, Nigel McCarthy had experienced his share of 4G rides in various RAF aircraft. This wasn’t too hard to tolerate for brief periods, at least not while sitting in the cockpit of a fighter jet and wearing a pressure suit. But now he had suffered the crippling weight for an extended period of time – how long he had no idea. But still he crawled, hand over hand, leg after leg, to make his way an undetermined distance and seek out an unknown enemy. He had to find out what he was up against.

In his younger days, this exercise would not have been too difficult, but now he was almost fifty and had let his physical condition wane over the past few years. Yet still he managed to crawl around the crates and across a still-hidden section of deck toward the closest moaning sound.

Behind a cluster of propellant barrels, Nigel found a dark brown creature pressed against the floor. The alien was shaped like a long salamander with four very thick legs and two stubby arms projecting from the front torso. The beast’s head was large and scaly with a bony carapace Nigel knew his commando blade would have trouble penetrating.

The alien spotted him with his yellow eyes and attempted to lift his dart gun in Nigel’s direction. It was obvious the creature was in terrible pain, and before the weapon could be properly aimed, McCarthy reached him. The struggle that ensued was awkward and almost comical in a way, yet Nigel still managed to turn the long creature over onto its back, exposing the soft underbelly of the alien. He pulled his knife from its sheath and proceeded to eviscerate the hapless being by slicing it open from groin to neck.

McCarthy found himself covered in the red blood of the beast, mixed with dark green innards with a strong, putrid odor. Combined with the chemicals still present in his body, and the overpowering stench of the alien insides wafting up from the floor, Nigel didn’t even resist the urge to vomit. He let loose with heavy surge after surge that joined with the disgusting concoction already covering the deck and making for a smell that defied description.