Jason King: Agent to the Stars 1: The Enclaves of Sylox (38 page)

Oh shit … it’s happening now!

Without thinking, Adam reached down and withdrew the MK-17 from the holster. The weapon was light in his hand, and in a single move he aimed the weapon at the lizard and instinctively depressed the trigger. A tiny, brilliant ball of blue light shot out of the business end of the MK and impacted the left shoulder of the Rigorian, spinning him sideways. Adam fired again; this time the shot struck the thick neck of the lizard, nearly severing the head from the torso.

Adam then noticed another movement; the Rigorian to his right had also pulled his weapon and was bringing it to bear on Adam. Shifting his aim slightly, Adam let loose with another shot; this one found its target center mass in the lizard’s chest.

Not taking any chances, Adam swung the weapon to the left, lining up the other two Rigorians in his sights. Each had their hands on their weapons, but they quickly pulled them away as they stared down the barrel of Adam’s gun.

It was only then that Adam felt a slight vibration coming from the grip of the alien weapon.

For some strange reason, this made Adam chuckle, an expression that made the two surviving Rigorians shiver with fright. The entire fight had taken less than two seconds … and just
now
the computer was telling him it was okay to fire.

“Take off your holsters,” Adam demanded of the two remaining Rigorians.

“What?” one of them said. “We’re not taking—”

Adam rushed forward, until he jammed the barrel of his gun up into the neck of the taller, defiant lizard. “Take off your god damn weapons – or I’ll take off your heads!”

In unison, the Rigorians unbuckled their holsters and let them fall to the floor.

“That’s better. Now get the hell out of here,” Adam ordered.

Without looking back at the fallen and bloody heap of flesh that was their dead companions, the two surviving Rigorians dashed out of the tavern. Adam bent down and picked up the two sets of weapons. When he turned back to the room, he noticed how deathly quiet it was, with dozens of pairs of wide eyes staring back at him. Taking advantage of the stunned fear, Adam returned to his table, lifted his drink and threw it down in a single gulp. He then turned to an equally-stunned Kaylor and simply said, “Pay up; we’re leaving.”

********

Outside in the early evening afterglow, Adam and Kaylor walked silently back to the spaceport. Kaylor didn’t ask for his weapon back, and chose to stay about half a pace behind Adam all the way to the landing field.

Entering the ship, Kaylor retracted the loading ramp and secured the door, after which they made their way to the common room.

As they entered, Jym turned from his computer console – and nearly fell off the chair at the sight of Adam.

“What is
he
doing here?” he blurted out; Kaylor silenced him up with a firm shake of his head.

Adam was still so jacked up that he didn’t sit down. Instead he dropped the two sets of weapons on the table and then began to pace back and forth between the couch and the table. “I didn’t want to fight him – you know that,” he finally said.

Kaylor stood near the doorway. “You had no choice,” was all he said.

Regaining some of his nerve, Jym pressed the subject: “What happened? You’ve only been gone for about two hours—”

“Adam just killed two Rigorians in a life-challenge at Jklena’s Tavern.”

“He did
what
? That’s impossible.”

“No it is not,” Kaylor countered. “It was the most remarkable thing I’ve ever seen. Then he disarmed two more and had them leave the tavern in exchange for their lives.”

Stepping forward, Kaylor held out his hand to Adam. “Let me have the weapon.”

Adam stopped pacing and looked into Kaylor’s eyes. A tense moment passed, but then Adam slowly began to unbuckle the holster. “No, keep the holster on,” Kaylor said.

Surprised, Adam obeyed and handed just the weapon over to the alien. Taking the MK-17, Kaylor popped the bolt cartridge out of the handle and then handed the weapon back to Adam.

“Let me see you draw the weapon again. It is disarmed, so just draw and shoot, like you did before.”

Doing his best John Wayne imitation, Adam whipped the gun out of the holster, raised it and pulled the trigger. He heard an audible gasp from Jym.

“What’s the big deal?” Adam asked. “I’ve always had pretty fast reactions, and I’m actually a damned good shot.”

After a moment, Kaylor answered. “You should not be able to do that. I’ve never seen anyone even come close to how fast you can draw a weapon. Also, you didn’t use the targeting computer. How is it that you can hit a target without targeting assistance?”

“Well, that part seemed pretty silly to me. Why do you have to wait for a computer to tell you when to shoot?”

Kaylor persisted. “You should not be able to hit a target without assistance. If you do, then it is simply luck. Yet what I saw today was not luck.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but we don’t use targeting computers on our handguns. We do with missiles and rockets and things like that, but not with handguns or rifles. Besides, he was only about twenty feet away. I’d have to be blind to miss at that range.”

Jym coughed. “I don’t mean to spoil the moment, but what about the salvage?”

Kaylor seemed relieved at the change the subject. “It has been registered. We are to go back tomorrow at Day4 for the final inventory and receipt.”

“And him?” Jym nodded toward Adam, who was still practicing drawing the MK-17, seemingly getting faster every time.

“The Registrar said he couldn’t help him get back to his planet … so I said he could stay on with us until the owners showed up for the claim or the verdict on the salvage is rendered. His hope is that if the owners show up they could help him find his home.”

“But that could be months from now! You mean he is to remain here for all that time? You can clearly see how dangerous this thing can be.”

“I told him two months—”

“Hey, I’m right here in the room with you,” Adam said.

“We’ll put him to work, doing something,” Kaylor continued. “But I could not leave him on-planet without any resources.”

“It looks like he can take care of himself,” Jym countered.

“If killing is an occupation….”

Adam turned toward the two arguing aliens: “Listen up you two; I’m not going to be any trouble. I’m a hard worker and a fast learner, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me so far, really. Just right now I need a little time to figure out what I’m going to do.” He then took a few steps towards Jym. “Remember, from my perspective, it’s only about a day since I was back home, and without ever dreaming that I’d be here and going through all this shit,” he said, while leaning over the seated alien. “Besides, this is
your
reality, not mine. So Jym, why don’t you try to cut me a little slack!”

Jym had recoiled from Adam as his diatribe grew more impassioned. Now he recovered slightly. “That’s understandable, Adam Cain. I’m just not used to someone disturbing our routine. If it’s okay with Kaylor, then it is surely okay with me.”

“That’s better,” Adam said forcefully. “Now can we all just try to get along?” And with that last plea, Adam took off the holster and handed it back to Kaylor. He then gathered up the two other weapons he’d taken from the Rigorians and left to return to his room. He had a lot of thinking to do….

Chapter 11

O
verlord Oplim Ra Unis was having a terrible day. He had just received a report that tax revenues for The Fringe were down seventeen-percent and that the mining operations on Castor were stalled because of a delay in getting a new drilling unit shipped in from Sector Seven.

But what frustrated the young Overlord the most was the reality that his superiors back on Juir would not care. To them, The Fringe was so inconsequential, such an afterthought, that they treated the region as a bonus to all their other operations. So no matter what Oplim did, he would never be noticed.

And that was why so many of his colleagues in the Juirean Authority had been shocked to learn that Oplim had actually
requested
The Fringe. With such a vast and growing Expansion – and so few Juireans available to fill vital posts – he could have had his pick of any of a dozen Sectors. Yet he chose The Fringe.

Oplim closed the file on his computer, leaned back in his chair and stared out through the huge plate-glass window that made up the entire right wall of his office. Before him lay the urban expanse of Cyol, the city on the planet Melfora Lum where the Juireans had established their sector headquarters some seventy-odd standard years before. It was the largest city in The Fringe – as would be expected – with skyscrapers and traffic routes, even elevated arrow trains that shuttled the inhabitants to and from their daily tasks. The planet itself offered a temperate climate, ample farmland, and even the gravity was nearly that of Juir. But it had been Oplim’s hobby – indeed his obsession – that had brought him to Melfora Lum, and out to the very edge of the civilized galaxy.

So when his secure computer link had buzzed a few moments before – and he read the attached file – his heart began to race rapidly, and his breath came in shallow gulps.

Could this be it? Could this be what he’d come all the way out here to find?

Oplim had traces on all communications throughout The Fringe, including vidcasts, link transmissions, ship chatter – and even salvage registrations. Search parameters were entered and any hits, even the most obscure, were correlated and weighed against all known databases.

This hit came from a salvage that had just been registered on the planet Nimor. Undoubtedly, Oplim had received the information only milliseconds behind even the bureaucrats on the planet, but unlike them, he was privy to information they were not.

The configuration was correct, the technology consistent, and even the dead occupants coincided with the archives. This was definitely a
Klin
ship. At last he had his proof!

For over twenty standard years, Oplim had tracked every credible sighting, report, rumor or myth regarding the elusive Klin. Within his program, he had noted each of these, no matter how vague, no matter how reliable. And then, after so many years, a pattern had begun to emerge.

As the Juirean Expansion grew larger, the locations of the most recent reports would move inexorably further out, away from the more populated regions of the galaxy. It was obvious what was happening: The Klin were moving. And now there was no place further out than The Fringe.

It had been a remarkable gamble on Oplim’s part. After all, many in The Expansion did not even believe that the Klin still existed, and to be labeled a Believer did not sit well with the Elites or the Juirean Council. Besides, with a whole galaxy to govern, most Juireans had neither the time nor the inclination to pursue fairy tales. The Klin had been eradicated during
The Reckoning
, and to most Juireans, they no longer existed as a race.

And yet here was a
Klin
ship – a living relic of a time long forgotten.

Oplim watched the video that the survey crew had taken, and even though the ship itself was not conclusive evidence – after all, it had been nearly four-thousand years since anyone had seen a Klin spaceship – it was the bodies they found onboard that cinched it. Evolution does not work so fast that in four-thousand years a species would not be recognizable. The Juireans had plenty of records that showed what a Klin looked like, even though it had been four millennia since anyone had verifiably seen one in the flesh, even a dead one. There were definitely dead Klin aboard the derelict starship.

But just finding hard evidence that the Klin still existed wasn’t enough for Oplim. If the Klin still lived, then they had to have a base of operations somewhere, and more-than-likely it was right here in his sector.

Oplim quickly scanned the report until he found what he was looking for – and then he slammed his fist down hard on his desk! He was afraid of this … the ship’s computer core was missing. That core would hold the location to the Klin hiding place.

Reading more detail, Oplim saw where it was reported that the damn Fringe Pirates had attacked the ship and then removed certain items, including the core, before abandoning their kill. He read with disbelief – as well as a little admiration – how a pair of lowly mule-drivers had tricked the pirates into running away. Unfortunately, before they left they had taken the core.

But wait, what was this? He read further. There was a survivor! Not a Klin, but another creature who had been aboard the Klin ship at the time of the attack. The vids were both informative and confusing. There had been eighty of these creatures aboard –
Humans
they were called – and they had all been intentionally killed by the Klin, all except for one. And he was currently on Nimor.

Oplim’s mind quickly assessed the situation and then formulated a plan, as Overlords had been trained to do for thousands of years. Tapping the communications tab on his desk, he commanded that a secure and direct link be established between himself and Fleet Commander Giodol Fe Bulen.

********

Commander Giodol was surprised to receive a link directly from the Overlord; he answered immediately.

“Commander, where are you at this time?” his Overlord asked without preamble.

“We are near Silea, My Lord, showing our force to the natives,” he answered. With no real enemies in this part of The Expansion, the tiny Fringe fleet was used primarily for intimidation purposes, as a reminder of just how powerful the Juireans were.

“I have a vital assignment for you,” Oplim stated. Giodol perked up. He was so tired of simply
showing the flag
to these backwater beings. “I need you to launch an assault on the pirate base at K’ly and extract information from all the captives.”

Giodol was stunned. Was he hearing his Overlord correctly? This was
real
action, and against the only menace – if minor – within the region. The Fleet Commander was aware that recently the pirates had become much bolder and proficient with their activities, even going so far as to stage raids on planetary cities. They also appeared to be working better as a unit, rather than as independent ships with no real organization governing their actions. Now the young Overlord was finally going to take action against them. “Of course, My Lord, I will do as you wish with enthusiasm. It is time we subdue the pirate activities—”

The Overlord continued, interrupting: “Yesterday a vessel was attacked by three pirate ships in The Void, near the planet Nimor. The pirates made off with the ship’s computer core.
That
is what you must recover, Commander.”

Giodol was surprised by the assignment. This was something different than punishment for the pirates’ sector-wide activities.

“Commander, you are authorized to use whatever means necessary to recover the core.”

“Was it removed from a Juirean ship, My Lord?” Giodol asked, trying to find the reason why this particular core would be so important to the Overlord.

“No, it was not, but that is not your concern. Just bring me the core as soon as it is recovered.” Then the Overlord broke the link.

Giodol stared at the blank screen for a few seconds more, wondering why the Overlord was acting so strangely. Oplim had come to The Fringe only two years before, while Giodol had been there for nearly ten. He had experienced no particular issues with the young Overlord in that time, and even now, this was not an issue he would dwell upon. The Overlord must have his reasons.
And we’re Juireans; we never question the motives of another Juirean.

Giodol knew the location of the pirate base on K’ly; it was one of the least kept secrets in The Fringe. It’s just that no one had ever taken the initiative to go there before. Now he had a mission, a purpose. And as he had told the Overlord, he would accomplish his assignment with enthusiasm.

After breaking the link with his Fleet Commander, Oplim next opened a link to Counselor Deslor Lin Jul on the planet Castor. Deslor was one of three Counselors assigned to the Overlord, but by far his favorite. He also shared Oplim’s belief in the existence of the Klin.

Once the link was established, Oplim spent the first few minutes briefing Deslor regarding the Klin ship and the actions he’d set in motion against the Fringe Pirates. The Counselor, too, was ecstatic.

“Deslor, I need you to go to Nimor and interview the mule-drivers. They are not to spread any information regarding this ship … is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” Deslor said. “I assume you have put a lock on all references to the ship and its recovery?”

“Of course I have. All files have been blocked from dissemination. After you have interviewed the parties on Nimor, I want you to bring the ship – and this survivor – to me here on Melfora Lum. As far as we can tell, this creature has had direct contact with the Klin. We must know the connection between the Klin and …” he looked down at his notes, “… these Humans. How long until you can get to Nimor?”

“I can be there in seventeen hours.”