Alien Assassin (7 page)

As always, though, he held out for the promise that his situation was only temporary, and that one day he would return to Earth and to whatever life he could salvage there. The fee for Bundnet’s killing would be sizeable, and help sustain him a little while longer, as he continued his quest for a way home.

The spaceport for the Castorian capital city of Krune was massive and exposed to the harsh elements of the surface. Even though the labyrinth system was extensive, the Castorians could not justify using up precious living space underground for the ships of the realm. So Adam placed the
Cassie-1
in a clearing about two kilometers from the nearest access port and donned an uncomfortable full-face breathing respirator and oxygen supplement for the brief walk through the blowing dust.

Castor’s gravity was about standard for The Expansion, which made it about equivalent to three-quarters that of Earth’s. Adam could have jogged the distance in just a few minutes with little effort, but he decided to stretch his legs and actually enjoy the wide open spaces for a change.

Gravity was both his ally and his bane. In order to maintain his strength and muscle mass, he had to spend as little time on-planet as possible. That meant staying cooped up in his ship for the majority of the time. Any sane being would have gone stir-crazy after only a few days in such confinement, and Adam had endured this routine for going on nine months already.

Adam took an elevator down 23 levels and was deposited in the middle of a bustling metropolis with shoulder-to-shoulder beings, chaotic wheeled transports and a noisy train system that was actually the envy of The Fringe. Luckily for Adam, the respirator helped filter out most of the foul stench emanating from the crush of alien bodies. Over the months, he had grown somewhat expectant of the odor, although one could never completely ignore it. Recently, however, he had begun to wonder if the aliens felt the same about his own distinctive scent. If they did – or even felt the same about the scent of other aliens – they never let on.

He boarded a west-bound train for the half-hour journey to the section of Krune where Amick lived. It was upscale, made up of very wide caverns with paved surfaces and lined with towering trees and bushes of vibrant green, yellow and red. The artificial lighting set high in the distant ceiling added warmth to the air, and they had even incorporated a gentle summer’s breeze circulating throughout the neighborhood. Wealth had its privileges.

The taxi dropped him off at the head of Amick’s street. As Adam made his way toward the gated entrance to the residence, he knew he was under surveillance; you didn’t survive in Amick’s game as long as he had by being careless.

As he approached the gate, four burly Castorian guards suddenly appeared out of nowhere holding flash rifles and serious attitudes. Adam had been to Amick’s house numerous times in the past, but still the guards frisked him, scanned for explosives and took his precious MK-47 from him for safe keeping, placing it in a safety box near the gate.

Entering the house itself was an awe-inspiring event. The foyer was massive, carved out of solid rock that had been polished to a brilliant luster and displaying striations of dozens of bright colors. And beyond the entry was the Great Room, a fifty-meter long chamber that ended at a vast glass dome overlooking the desolate exterior landscape of Castor. Only the wealthiest Castorians could afford homes that overlooked the outside world, and Amick was among the wealthiest.

Near the dome, and peering out at the late afternoon shadows as they crept slowly across the jagged mountains in the distance, stood Seton Amick, a communicator to his ear and speaking loudly to someone on the other end. Adam approached and stood silently as two husky Castorian guards moved closer to him, just in case.

Amick was about Adam’s height, stockier and bald except for a thick crop of hair that grew on his back. The outfits Castorian males wore accentuated this feature, and was equivalent to women back home displaying their cleavage. Besides his wealth and power, Adam understood that Amick was considered quite a catch to Castorian females.
Good for him.

Amick acknowledged Adam’s presence and he held up a hand, signifying that he would be done with his conversation in a moment. Adam nodded and glanced at the two flanking guards. They looked tough, but Adam knew their bone density was about half that of his own and that the bulk of their stockiness came from their furry torsos.
Hardly a challenge
, Adam thought to himself.
I could take out both of them in under five seconds.

Amick closed the communicator, placed it in a pocket and turned to greet his guest. He didn’t smile; most aliens didn’t smile. It was often considered a sign of a challenge to do so. But his eyes lit up as he walked up to Adam.

“My friend, you have returned,” he said graciously in a deep, bellowing voice. “Another successful adventure from what I’m told.” Then he narrowed his eyes some. “Twenty-three dead and Bundnet’s home in ruins; you never cease to amaze me with the subtlety of your skills.”

He placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder and led him over to the bar. After a few taps of the screen, two cold drinks rotated out of the wall; Amick scooped them up and handed one to Adam. Adam’s blood chemistry had long ago been programmed into Amick’s dietary computer, so he knew the drink was safe. The two of them clinked glasses and Amick took a deep gulp of the potent beverage.

Adam liked Amick, as much as he could like any alien. He was pragmatic, intelligent and actually fun to be around. He was at the top of the food chain in his world and with that position came a relaxed attitude and a joy at being alive. His spirit was contagious.

Adam removed the full-face mask but kept the respirator over his nose. Lifting the respirator briefly, he took a long swig of the drink then replaced it. The air underground was clean of any contaminants, but the oxygen level was still too low for Adam to keep the respirator off for more than a few minutes.

“Now I suppose you’ll want your fee?” Amick said cheerfully. “I can never get you to relax and stay for a while. I’ve been so curious as to your origins and how you are able to accomplish what you do so effortlessly. We never get the chance at a prolonged conversation.”

“Sorry about that, Seton,” Adam said after another sip of the drink. “If our oxygen levels were more compatible I’m sure I’d spend more time here. But wearing this damn mask irritates my delicate skin.”

Amick burst out laughing, a deep, violent shaking that rocked his entire body. Adam had thought Seton was having a seizure when he had first seen him laugh many months ago, but it was simply how Castorian’s did it. Adam kept his lips shut, but spread his mouth in a wide grin as he joined in the alien’s jovial mood.

“Come, my friend. I will get you your money.”

Amick lead him down a wide hallway and through a double-door entry into his office. Encased in the solid rock of the room’s far wall was an electronic safe. Adam waited patiently as Amick open the safe and began to count out stacks of thin Juirean credits, which were all about the size of a credit card; they even appeared to be made of a plastic material. Each card was encoded with a specific denomination and was legal tender throughout The Expansion. After counting out a sizeable stack, Amick brought the credits to his desk and set them down. Twenty-thousand credits for the hit on Bundnet. Not a bad payday for about two weeks of work.

Adam didn’t bother to count the credits, but instead simply picked up the 10-centimeter-tall stack and placed it in a satchel he wore on the holster belt for his MK-47.

“Did you get the message about Bundnet threatening you?” Adam asked once the transaction was complete.

Amick grew serious. “Yes, I did. And thank you for that. Now that he’s dead, I’m hoping the threat does not materialize. Without someone to collect a fee from, it would make no sense to carry out the action.”

“Hopefully they weren’t paid in advance.”

Amick laughed again, but this time not so enthusiastically. “That’s another reason I wish you would stay around a little longer. I can recall at least two specific times, when you first came to work for me, that you were instrumental in saving my life.”

It was true. Only a few weeks after the explosion of the Klin starship, Kaylor had introduced the two of them, with Kaylor singing the praises of Adam’s worth as a bodyguard and/or assassin. Adam kept very tight-lipped back in those days, and hid his abilities as best he could.

He began by doing freelance bodyguard work for Amick, choosing to live aboard the
Cassie-1
rather than risk losing his strength advantage over time to the lighter gravity of Castor. In fact, Amick had actually used Adam’s ship to transport him to Silea and Nimor on a couple of occasions to tend to business there. And it was during one of these trips to Silea that Adam had managed to foil two determined assassination attempts on the crime lord. This action had helped ingratiate Adam into Amick’s organization.

But Adam chose to remain independent rather than take a more active role in Amick’s criminal empire, so the crime boss instead offered him freelance
wet
work – and paid him generously for it. It was this arrangement that allowed Adam to survive in this alien universe and pursue his hunt for the Klin – and for Earth. When he thought about it, Adam actually owed Amick a large debt of gratitude.

About half an hour later, Adam left Amick’s residence, having graciously declined an elaborate meal and more conversation. The respirator really did irritate his skin, and the sooner he got back aboard the
Cassie-1
the better. He also had to pick up some supplies before the markets closed for the night.

The artificial lighting was beginning to dim in the neighborhood, signifying the coming of night in the underground world. As he stepped out of the residence, he felt the soft breeze and heard the rustling of the branches on the spectacular trees lining the grounds, ablaze in the accent lighting for the estate. For a moment, Adam almost forgot he was on an alien planet and hundreds, if not thousands of light years from home. But reality quickly returned – as it always did – and along with it the familiar pang of homesickness that welled up inside him.

He walked down the brick sidewalk toward the front gate, feeling slightly melancholy and distracted. In his saddened state, he hardly noticed when no guards came out to greet him at the gate. However, they had appeared out of nowhere when he first arrived, so they were probably just lurking somewhere just out of sight. At the open gate, he stopped and waited, hoping someone would come out and give him his ’47. After a few moments, and still no guards, he walked to the safety box and removed the weapon himself.

A transport had been called for him and was waiting at the head of the street, its Castorian driver standing outside the vehicle, inhaling a drag off either a smokestick or one of its tamer cousins. Since he would be driving, Adam hoped it was the latter.

Still, something didn’t feel quite right. He stopped midway down the street and turned to look back at the estate. The gate was still open, having not even closed automatically after he passed through. And he had never had to recover his own weapon before…

Placing a hand on the butt of his MK-47, Adam returned to the estate. As he passed through the gate – and still no guards – he immediately knew something was up. Leaving the estate without escort was common, but just walking through the front gate uncontested was unheard of.

Adam moved to his left and skirted the side of the estate, making his way toward the entrance while avoiding the main walkway. Quietly opening the front door, he crouched and slipped inside as stealthily as possible, drawing his weapon as he did so. No sound, no presence. Hell, he’d only left the home a few minutes before. Where was everyone?

Just then he heard the distinctive pop of a bolt launcher, and his eyes were drawn to the electric blue flash coming from the other end of the long hallway to the left of the Great Room. Then he heard footsteps, running on the hard stone floors, in the direction of the office.

Two more quick pops – then silence.

Moving swiftly through the Great Room, Adam slid past the bar area and did a quick glance around the corner of the hallway leading to the office. There was just a slight blue haze hanging in the air, but no one was in the hallway. Still in a crouch, Adam entered the corridor, hugging the right side wall as he began to move cautiously toward the office.

Just then, a hand appeared from low down on the doorframe to the office and tossed something into the hallway. The metal object skidded along the floor toward Adam. Recognizing the grenade immediately, Adam took two quick steps back the way he’d came and dove around the corner – just as the grenade exploded.