Cain's Crusaders (12 page)

Adam didn’t have time for this; he had a Supreme Celebrant to rescue. “And what is this bonus?”

“It says that if you, Traveler, will provide the access code to the ship, we are allowed to spare the life of the pilot. This is a special offer only afforded to those aboard single-person starships. I’m quite surprised at the generosity of the … officials who have set the fees.”

“You want the access code to the ship and then I can walk away free?”

“That is the offer. I suggest you take it.” The humorous charade had now past; the alien was looking down at Adam with an amused, yet hardened glare, confident in his position before the smallish, pink-skinned creature.

“All right, I’ll give you the code,” Adam began. “Are you ready? It’s
one-eight-hundred, eat-shit
.”

Even though the translation bug recalled the remark as
consume feces
, it still came off as a defiant insult to the Unisslings. Not really expecting Adam to comply, the aliens were already going for their weapons by the time the translation was complete.

But Adam was also ready, and before a single alien MK-17 had cleared its holster, Adam already had his out and being brought to bear on the lead alien. A blue bolt of electricity popped out of the barrel and struck the alien point-blank in the chest. The hot ball of energy penetrated the creature’s clothing and his skin, and then the electrical charge spread throughout the chest cavity, burning organs and severing nerve endings. The alien fell to the dusty ground a moment later, his lifeless body still twitching from the spasms of electricity coursing through it.

Next Adam took aim at the flash rifle operator on the transport. His shot was true, striking the creature directly in the face. What happened next was just a blur. In rapid succession, Adam sent bolts into two more of the Unisslings.

By the time he was finished, the fifth and remaining alien had begun to run, heading for the exit to the spaceport. Adam looked around at the bodies of the four aliens on the ground, and satisfied that none were still alive, he took off after the lone survivor.

In the gravity of Uniss-3, Adam would have been ranked as the fastest creature on the planet. He caught up with the surviving pirate in just a few seconds, and grabbing him by the back of his shirt, lifted him from the ground as they both ran along. Then Adam stopped, still holding the taller alien off the ground. The Unissling had his weapon still in his hand, but he didn’t even think to use it.

Adam tossed his captive to the ground and stood over him, his own MK-17 held defiantly to his side. “Do you have a mate?” Adam asked.

The alien’s eyes grew wide, confused by the question. “Do you have mates, a family?” Adam asked again.

The creature nodded nervously. “Yes, I have several mates, why?”

“Any offspring, children?”

“I have three sons.”

“Any daughters?”

“Why?”

“Just answer the question!”

“There have been two born of my mates. But they do not count as offspring.”

“That’s fine; I don’t really care. What is your name?”

“Azzel, my name is Azzel.”

“Okay, Azzel, I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to find your mates and your family – including your daughters, but especially your sons – and then I’m going to kill them in the most-painful manner imaginable. Then I’m going to eat them.”

Adam could see the shock on Azzel’s face. “No! Not my sons!”
So he only cares for the males?
What a fucked-up society this is,
Adam thought.

“Yes, your sons, too, and I will make
them
suffer even more for what you have done.”

“Please no! We are very poor here. Stripping credits from defenseless Travelers is how we survive.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to kill them and then eat them all … unless you do as I say.”

Azzel scrambled to his knees, stirring up a small cloud of brown dust as he did. “Anything!”

“I’m only going to be on your sinking planet for a couple of hours, Azzel. After that I’m leaving. I will either be leaving the planet for good, or I will be leaving to track down your family –
and your sons
. The choice will be yours.”

“Of course; what do you wish of me?”

“I want you to watch after my ship. It’s that simple. I do not want a repeat of what just happened. Also, clean up the mess I left. I’m sure even this hell-hole has some kind of police force. Keep them away, at least until after I leave. Is that something you can do for me?”

“Yes, of course, Traveler. I apologize for what we attempted. It was all Kellze’s idea.”

“I don’t care; you’re responsible. Just do as I say, and I’ll be gone in a couple of hours.”

Adam then turned from the trembling alien and walked off in the direction of the small town, confident that his commands would be followed. Otherwise … well
roast-alien
did sound rather delicious, especially with a nice marinade!

The dusty, dirty town Adam found himself in had a name, but he had promptly forgotten it once the coordinates had been entered into his nav computer. He would be here so briefly that he didn’t care if it had a name or not. It was just another shithole town on another shithole planet.

Adam Cain, U.S. Navy SEALs, had participated in his fair share of rescues and extractions during his military career, yet in all those operations he had never paid a ransom. SEAL’s usually were the
alternative
to paying a ransom, so the whole concept bothered Adam at a certain level. But on another, it didn’t. The money wasn’t his – hell it wasn’t even real money in the first place – and it seemed simpler just to let the kidnappers have their way. Besides, there was no underlying principle being violated here, nothing like a ban against negotiating with terrorists. If the Formilians didn’t care about the money or the principle, then neither would he….

Adam found that breathing on this dust-bowl of a world to be growing increasingly difficult. It was mid-day on this part of the planet, and even though it was hot, a strong breeze was serving to keep the temperature tolerable. Yet the breeze was also stirring up numerous dust-devils of abrasive, blinding sand to invade his lungs and assault his eyes. It was like Iraq all over again.

Dozens of the natives were on the streets of the town, seemingly immune to the blowing dust, and each watching him out the corners of their double-lidded eyes. Adam was sure they were curious how a single being could have emerged from the spaceport unscathed, being fully aware of the presence of the ‘tax-collectors’ amongst their ranks. In fact, Adam was sure that several of the natives watching him now would have profited handsomely from the activities of the land-pirates, if they had been successful. The place just had the look of a classic den of thieves.

And so Adam’s eyes methodically scanned every dark opening, as well as every corner he passed, watching for any potential threats. His destination was directly in front of him, and he only had a few more yards to go. Once inside … well again, he had no idea how things would play out.

He approached the double-metal gate set within the white-washed walls of the compound. There were no openings in the gate or sentries on the walls, yet he was sure he had been watched as he approached. Then almost without having to break stride, the gates swung inward and Adam marched confidently through.

The compound he entered contained somewhere around eight to ten buildings, each two stories tall and with wide courtyards separating them. There were a few mangy-looking trees sprinkled about, doing their best to survive in the hot, dry climate, while a cacophony of insect sounds provided the soundtrack for the familiar scene.
     

Four natives quickly surrounded him, forcing him to a stop.

“State your business, Traveler,” said one of them.

“I think you know why I’m here,” Adam shot back. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The aliens considered him for only the briefest of moments before disarming him and then escorting him into the largest building on his right.

He entered a pavered foyer, complete with a wide Spanish-style arch embedded with broken, colored tiles. Adam looked around to see if he’d entered a time-warp, suddenly transported to a small Mexican hacienda. Yet as with all his deja-vu moments before, this one was soon shattered when more of the tall, rust-colored aliens filled the foyer, rather than a contingent of sombrero-wearing and mustached-Mexicans.

“Follow this way,” one of the aliens said, and Adam was led down a wide, echoing hallway on his right. His native guards opened a door to a side room and motioned for him to enter.

Obeying, Adam found he was in a large room about thirty-feet square, with another doorway on his right and a large window to the left displaying one of the courtyards separating this building from the others. There was a table with six empty chairs set near the far wall. The lead guard approached the table and set Adam’s MK-17 down loudly upon it.

Adam then looked more to his right and his heart began to pound. There in the corner, sitting on a lone stool, was Arieel Bol, The Speaker of the Formilian people.

Adam took a step in her direction but was stopped by a cadre of guards. They hustled him toward the table; he chanced to look back at Arieel, shocked to see her so frail and vulnerable. She appeared to be unrestrained, yet she did wear a strange, white cap on her head, looking to be made of a fine, metal mesh. Her cheeks were sallow and her large black eyes vacant and non-seeing.

She was certainly under the influence of a drug of some kind, simply rocking slowing back and forth in the corner – but at least she was still alive.

Next, Adam’s attention was diverted as he heard the door to his right begin to open, screeching on rusted hinges like fingernails on a chalkboard. The effect was excruciating, but not as shocking as who he saw enter the room.

It was Nigel McCarthy.

The large, red-headed Englishman was himself frozen in shock as he spotted Adam, yet only for a moment until the look changed to that of sheer panic.

“Call all the guards!” he yelled out as he grabbed the lead sentry by the shirt and pulled him close. “Scan the entire area for others, and secure the front gate. Do not let anyone approach the compound, even if they’re your brothers and sons. Shoot anyone who comes within fifty feet of the walls. Do it now!”

He shoved the hapless guard away, and soon the entire room was swarming with a dozen additional guards. McCarthy had withdrawn a high-powered MK-47 from his holster – the most-powerful of the MK-line of handguns – and was holding it against his cheek. He moved past Adam to the large window, standing to the side, scanning the exterior.

He touched a small communication box on his shoulder. “Carter, prep the ship. We may have to bug out of here in a hurry.”

“What’s up,” was the response through the comm box.

“That bloody Adam Cain is here.”

There was a pregnant pause before Carter Thomas, Nigel McCarthy’s second-in-command responded. “Where is he? Is he alone?”

McCarthy looked back at Adam, his eyes ablaze with anger. “He’s right here with me. It looks like he’s alone, but you know this bloke; you can never be sure what he’s up to.”

The initial shock of seeing his old nemesis had worn off enough that Adam now sat with an amused smile watching McCarthy panic. It only made the whole kidnapping affair come into better focus.

Nigel McCarthy, formerly of Her Majesty’s Special Air Service (SAS), was a criminal through and through, so why wouldn’t he be neck-deep in the kidnapping of The Speaker? This was his style.

Yet the last Adam had heard of Nigel McCarthy he was being shuffled off to Elision, the home planet of the Kracori. That was ten years ago, and now here he was, alive and still up to no good.