Human Chronicles Part 2 Book 2: The Apex Predator (25 page)

Even though they would be unable to deliver their nuclear weapons through traditional means, these ships had decided on suicide runs to complete their mission. They would arm their weapons … and then crash their damaged ships onto the surface of the Earth.

Adam highlighted the three ships he knew for sure were following this strategy. “Captain, can you get any units to intercept these three ships?”

Captain Robe moved next to Adam and scrutinized the monitor. Adam saw him grimace with pain from the debilitating sciatic nerve condition in his lower back. He shouldn’t have even been on duty, let alone coordinating the defensive units of an entire planet. Yet nothing was going to keep Captain Dave Robe from doing his duty … not today

“Possibly,” he said after studying the screen. “What’s so special about these?”

“They’re kamikazes, Captain. Even though I’ve set off major explosions onboard, they’re still coming. Without weapons and with diminished maneuvering capability, they’ll be easy to take out … if you have units to spare.”

“Mr. Cain, I have units scrambling all over the system, but I think it’s about time we accept the fact that some of the Kracori units are going to get through. Just ten-percent will be thirty ships, and that’s three times as many as they used on their last attempt.” Captain Robe looked at the screen again. “I’ll do what I can; I believe we have adequate numbers of ships in space, they’re just not all in the proper locations. And when you’re talking in the millions of miles between targets, it takes time to deploy assets.”

“Sorry to pull you away from your station, Captain,” Adam said. “I’ll see what I can do on my end.”

“Good luck.”

“You too.”

Adam returned to the link with one of the new kamikaze ships. The electronics aboard were a mess, with several paths blocked or cut off by the explosions, some of which were still erupting aboard the Kracori warship.

He should have anticipated this. After all, the Kracori were fighting for the survival of their homeworld, just as Adam was fighting for his. If he had been in the shoes of the Kracori, he would have given the same command.

He tried the environmental controls aboard the starship. Cutting off the atmosphere aboard would kill off most of the crew – if he had time. Yet that wouldn’t work. As the battle was progressing, the Kracori were now thirty minutes from the planet. A quick glance at the monitor gave him a grim picture. Even though over two hundred of the attackers had been destroyed, there still appeared to be close to seventy alien ships bearing down on the planet.

He returned to his primary task – that of destroying as many of the full-strength ships as he could. Robe was right, some of the attackers were going to get through, and if so, then he would prefer them to be the crippled suicide units instead of undamaged ships.

As the number of viable targets continued to drop –many taken out by Adam and Arieel, with others still destroyed by the Group A and B defenders, some using their nuclear-tip missiles – Adam found he was constantly bumping into Arieel aboard the same ships. He would let her take the lead, and then shoot off looking for a virgin target. Soon the number of ships approaching the planet unimpeded was down to nineteen … and yet at any moment they would be entering the atmosphere.

Suddenly, the monitors displayed an array of individual chemical trails depart from twelve of the Kracori ships. Each of the attackers had just released a barrage of forty missiles. Not counting the kamikazes, that was four-hundred-eighty of the high-yield nuclear weapons the Kracori processed.

Everyone stood frozen in their positions as the room grew graveyard quiet. They watched helplessly as the tracks entered the atmosphere and began their headlong fall to the surface. Much to his surprise, Adam noticed the missiles did not appear to have any designated targets. Instead, they fanned out evenly in an attempt to cover as much land surface as possible. Adam nodded, a sick feeling rising up in his stomach. The Kracori were out to irradiate the entire planet, so individual population centers and other specific targets didn’t matter. Just explode as many nuclear devices on the surface as possible, and then let physics, chemistry and biology do the rest.

Someone vomited loudly behind him as the first surface contacts were noted. Even though they had destroyed ninety-five percent of the fleet, they were still going to fail in their attempt to save the planet Earth … their home.

Chapter 37

 
Sherri Valentine…

S
herri was in a situation room with Admiral Andy Tobias, watching the carnage begin to spread across the surface of the Earth. Control and Command within Phoenix Central was located three hundred forty feet beneath the surface of the desert down within a block of solid rock. Nothing less than a direct hit by one of the Kracori nukes could take them out, and according to the reports, the targets of the attack appeared to be random, more a spread than a concentrated barrage.

The monitors on the walls of the command bunker showed not only visual images of the gigantic mushroom clouds rising up from the surface, but also radiation levels as measured from space. The planet suddenly looked as if it had a severe case of the measles, with tiny red dots sprouting up seemingly everywhere.

Throughout the room, men and women stood dumbfounded and helpless, watching the red circles grow larger across the surface before beginning to deform as atmospheric winds began the rapid spread of deadly radiation around the globe.

Sherri was beyond tears; she was in shock, and watched as one of the monitoring spacecraft entered the edge of one of the mushroom clouds under a shallow gravity-well. Even in the face of utter devastation, the pilot and crew were still doing their jobs.

Just then the radiation levels in that part of the cloud dropped dramatically. Sherri was shaken out of her trance by the readings. Could this be real? She continued to watch as the ship completed its sweep and turned away.

A voice boomed out of the speakers in the room. “Hazmat-Twelve to Command … did you just see that?”

Admiral Tobias had also noticed the drop in rad levels. “Roger, H-12. Can you explain?”

“Yes sir!” There was a pause on the speaker. Then: “It’s the damn gravity-well, Admiral. Sucked up the cloud lickity-split! I’m going in for another pass.”

All eyes in the room watched the readings as the small, unarmed craft swung around for another run. This time the ship entered more of the roiling mass of the mushroom cloud … and more of it vanished into the maw of the singularity of the gravity-well.

“Hot damn, it did it again!”

Sherri stepped forward and fingered the comm button. “H-12, what’s your internal rad level?”

There was even a longer pause before the answer. “Not good, Command. We’re getting a heavy dose as the cloud is pulled in from all around us, adding to the concentration.”

Already experts in the room were tapping into the computers aboard Hazmat-12; a sheet of paper was handed to the Admiral. “Commander, the experts here say you can only do one more pass before the level becomes lethal. Even at that, you could be in for some serious trouble down the road.”

The track of the H-12 made a wide loop and headed back towards the cloud. “Do you acknowledge my last, H-12?” Tobias yelled into the microphone.

“Roger that, Admiral, but what choice do we have? Pardon my language, but this shit is going to kill us all – at least all who can’t get off the planet within the next few days, which we both know will be in the billions. I see this as our only chance.”

“I can’t order you to do this … you’re a civilian.”

“No need, Admiral. My crew just gave me the go-ahead. We’re going to make as many passes as we can and then head for space. After all, it wouldn’t do for us to crash on the surface. Who knows what would happen to all that pent-up radiation when the well dissolves. Let’s see how it goes….”

Over the next fifteen minutes, H-12 made seven more passes before finally making a beeline for outer space. In the meantime, the radiation level of the massive cloud had dropped seventy-percent. A few minutes after leaving the atmosphere, several attempts were made to contact the pilot – now identified as a man with the exotic name of Saxon Andrew. No response came from Hazmat-12; the ship didn’t deviate from its course, and soon it was out of practical radio communications range with Command, and without CW equipment aboard, the H-12 was gone forever.

“Lieutenant,” Andy Tobias called out. “Make a note that I’m recommending Mr. Andrew and his crew for the Medal of Service award – or whatever we have now days for the top civilian honor. I’m sure the bigwigs in the Council won’t protest too much.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Sherri was standing next to the Admiral. “Now what? We can’t very well order thousands of people to commit suicide.”

The Admiral made a sweeping motion with his hand at the bank of monitors on the wall. “We don’t have to, Miss Sherri. We don’t have to
order
anyone.”

On every monitor, an entire fleet of tiny gravity-drive ships was taking to the air. They consisted of small police units, scientific survey ships, commercial transports and merchantmen. Even some privately-owned vessels were making for the nearest mushroom cloud, as the news of Hazmat-12’s success spread like wildfire throughout all the world’s surviving communication channels.

Sherri and Andy watched with tears following from their eyes as cloud after cloud was absorbed by hundreds of gravity-well passes … and then the heroes would cast themselves off into the graveyard of space on one-way journeys into eternity.

As the bulk of the clouds were absorbed the ambient radiation levels in the atmosphere dropped dramatically, although not completely back to normal. The last ships involved in the cleanup made dozens of passes through wind-blown pockets before their internal radiation levels reached critical – and then they, too, headed for outer space.

********

Nine hours later, and near the point of complete exhaustion, Admiral Tobias and Sherri received the latest report. The atmosphere would still contain a higher-than-normal radiation level for several years to come, yet nothing approaching critical. Now all they had to do was contend with the physical damage caused by the bombs themselves.

Because of the randomness of the attack, very few had hit highly-populated regions. Even still, an estimated eight-hundred million people died instantly as a result of the bombardment. And though the atmospheric radiation levels were contained, those near the blast areas were doomed. Another billion-and-a-half would perish from radiation poisoning and cancer in the years to come.

********

The planet Earth would survive, yet the loss of innocence within the Human race was gone forever. Within days, there arose such a cry from the survivors for absolute revenge against the Kracori that all sense of humanity and compassion were discarded from the discussions of retribution. There would be no rest for the Human race until all their enemies were completely and utterly destroyed. No more diplomacy, no more talk of compromise or of treaties and political resolutions.

There was a blood-score to settle with the aliens, and
the
apex predator
of the planet Earth was about to become
the apex predator
of any entire galaxy.

Chapter 38

 
Nigel McCarthy…

T
wo weeks after leaving his abandoned base on Highland, Nigel McCarthy was finally nearing his destination. Even though he didn’t have specifics, he – along with most of the people in the galaxy – knew that this region of space was where the Juireans had retreated to after the sacking of Juir. It was a cluster of forty minor and mainline stars near what would be the beginning of the opposite arm of the galaxy from Earth.

When Juir had been overrun by the Kracori twelve years before – only to be chased away themselves by the approaching Human fleet – the Juireans had abdicated control of the Expansion and disappeared from the galactic political scene. Yet there were still over a billion of them and a fleet of over five thousand starships, many of them weapons of war. So, as much as they might like to, the Juireans found it impossible to hide from the rest of the galaxy. Nearly every major race in the Expansion knew the region of the galaxy where they’d gone, yet very few attempted contact. All were content to let the sleeping giant lie, for fear that if provoked the Juireans may attempt to reclaim what had once been theirs.

The passage between two young red giant stars marked the boundary of Juirean space, and it didn’t take long before Nigel found out why. Within an hour, two Juirean Class-3’s moved up to flank his much-smaller starship. It had been a decade or more since Nigel had last seen a Juirean warcraft up close, and it was at times like this that most designers of the best-laid plans had their greatest doubts and regrets. Strangely, Nigel felt very confident in his plan; he just hoped the Juireans would feel the same.

A link came in from his Juirean escorts. “Attention foreign vessel, you have entered forbidden space. You are ordered to reverse course immediately and not to return. You have thirty seconds to comply.”

Nigel fingered the comm link. “Please begin recording the following message. I am Nigel McCarthy, and I request an audience with Elder Wydor bin Sulic to reveal the location of the Kracori homeworld of Elision. This message is extremely important to the Juirean people. I will comply with your directives once a response is received regarding my request.”

There was a long pause on the link until another Juirean voice boomed out of the stereo speakers in the pilothouse of Nigel’s Exitor-class starship. “You will cease your forward progress and remain on station until otherwise ordered. No other communications will be acknowledged until a response is returned.”

“I am reducing power and will comply immediately.”

Nigel was taking a calculated guess. Several years ago, he had orchestrated the abduction of the former Juirean Elder Hydon Ra Elys, and had accompanied him to the Kracori homeworld. Hydon’s fate had never been revealed, however Nigel was sure the Juirean had expired years ago. His successor at the time had been Wydor, and with the longevity of Juireans, Nigel had taken a chance that he was still the head-bloke-in-charge. The fact that his message had been sent to wherever the Juireans had settled spoke to the fact that he had guessed right.

McCarthy had hoped to be more cryptic with his message and play the game a little closer to the vest. But he also knew he’d only get one chance to play his hand. Undoubtedly the Juireans had long memories, so he was sure his name would be in a database somewhere, and it would be linked to the kidnapping and death of their former leader.

The risk he was taking was enormous; the Juireans were not known for compassion or even rationality. They had been in charge of the galaxy for four-thousand years, and as a consequence, it was not they who compromised in negotiations, but rather the other party. However, Nigel had something of extreme value to offer the Juireans.

And they would also have him.

Nigel acknowledged there was a chance the Juireans may have changed over the past decade, tempering their aggressive nature to such a degree that revenge against the race of beings who ravaged their homeworld might not be a path they wished to follow. However, even if that were so, the execution of the alien responsible for the death of their beloved Elder Hydon – well, that would be a no-brainer.

Nigel was counting on the instinctive bond the Juireans felt for the planet Juir to give him something to bargain with. Either he was going to die at the hands of the Juireans … or he would walk out of the negotiations with enough credits and resources to build an even bigger and more powerful paramilitary operation than he had before. And when he added to the equation the prospect of thousands of his troops armed with the telepathy medallions, then Nigel McCarthy may one day have enough power – and immunity – to return to Earth without fear.

If not, then he would be content with taking over a little slice of the galaxy for himself.

It took two hours for the inevitable response to be received by his escorts, at which time he was ordered to transfer to one of the Class-3’s while the other would take his ship in tow. This was encouraging since it appeared the Juirean Council wanted to see him as soon as possible.

For what purpose, he would soon find out.

********

After spending two days in a ten-by-ten cabin, with three square meals provided daily, his Class-3 transport finally arrived at its destination. None of the Juireans aboard the ship offered either a name or location of the planet the Juireans had settled on after leaving Juir. It really didn’t matter; he just had an innate curiosity regarding such things.

McCarthy was placed in the windowless rear of a shuttle and transported to the surface. The small spacecraft then moved into a covered terminal before he departed, so he even then he didn’t get a glimpse of the landscape of this mystery planet.

He and his six escorts – all green-haired Guards – boarded a magnetic-lift shuttle car and took a fifteen-minute journey within an enclosed tube before emerging at a brightly-lit commuter station. Dozens of Juireans were present, along with hundreds of members of a race he didn’t recognize. Several of the Juireans stopped to stare at him as he was led out of the terminal and to a waiting transport.
If only they knew who I am,
Nigel thought. He was sure many would have volunteered on the spot to rip him limb-from-limb for the crimes he had committed against the Juirean people. They may still get their chance….

Nigel finally got the opportunity to see parts of the city he was in during the ride to wherever he was to meet the Juirean Elder. It was a large and modern city, populated mainly by the tall, skinny creatures he’d seen in the subway terminal. This led Nigel to believe that the billion or so Juireans who had left the Expansion had settled en masse elsewhere, and this planet was probably just where the Elites resided.

The transport stopped at the wide entrance to a large dome-shaped building, something akin to an enclosed football stadium one would find in the States back on Earth. Juirean writing was displayed in huge letters above the multi-door entrance, which, of course, he couldn’t decipher. His guards flanked him as he climbed the thirty or so steps to the landing near the doors. He entered the building and was directed through a large opening, revealing that this building was indeed an auditorium of some sort, but not for sports. The central area of the vast chamber was too small for athletic events, and instead a large circular table was located at the epicenter. Row upon row of large, Juirean-size seats rose up from the floor to easily climb fifty levels above. They were all empty at the time.

However, there were a dozen or so Juireans seated at the table at the focus of the room, taking up about half of its circumference, and all with magnificent white manes. Nigel’s heart began to pound. This was the
Council Elite
, the most-powerful class of Juireans … and all were here to pass judgment on him.

It had been a long time since he’d last seen Elder Wydor, and with most Juireans looking alike to him, he wasn’t sure which one he was. The round table had no apparent head, and all the Council members were glaring at him equally with undisguised contempt. Any one of these beings could be Wydor.

There was an unoccupied section of the table with a single chair; he took the seat.

The Juirean directly across the table leaned in and placed his arms on the table. “You may not remember me, but we have met before … I am Wydor bin Sulic, Elder of the Juirean Council Elite. When last I saw you, Nigel McCarthy, you had our respected previous Elder by the neck and leading him away at the threat of his life.” Wydor leaned back in his chair and waved a hand indicating the vast building in which they were seated. “You may not be aware, but this building is named
Hydon Hall
, in honor of my good friend and mentor who served this Council and the Juirean people for over twenty-five standard years.” Wydor paused as his jaw tightened and the veins in his neck began to engorge. “Hydon Ra Elys was also the first – and only – Elder in four thousand years to meet his death by hostile means.” Wydor violently slapped the surface of the table. “The first – and it came about from your actions! You may not have wielded the killing blade, but you made it possible, and therefore you are just as guilty as the Kracori.”

The Elder took several deep breaths and looked around the table at the faces of the other Council Elites. When he leaned back in toward the table, his impossibly blue eyes burned with a fiery intensity. “However, the
only
thing we hate more than you at this moment are the Kracori, and that is the solitary reason you are still alive. You Humans are a conniving and deceptive race, so the reason you have presented yourself here is not to be trusted. You have alluded to knowing the location of the Kracori homeworld; yes that information would have value to the Council. Yet if you expect that to save your life, you are gravely mistaken.”

“Then I guess we have nothing to discuss,” Nigel said, attempting his best to keep his voice calm and measured. He was indeed in the lion’s den, and by the look of these beasts, they hadn’t fed in months. If he wasn’t careful his life expectancy could be measure in minutes.

Wydor blinked rapidly several times giving Nigel the impression this was not the response he had expected after the Juirean’s diatribe. “There will be no discussion,” Wydor said finally. “You will tell us the location and we will then see about ending your life in a swift and painless manner. Otherwise, we will pull the information from you through our own unique methods of torture.”

“You know as well as I that your methods will not work on me. I will die … and you will not have the information regarding the location of Elision.” It was Nigel’s turn to lean in and place his elbows on the table. “Let’s face it, both our races have been manipulated by, and become victims of, the Klin’s plan for galactic domination. As such, we have each done what we felt necessary for survival. I did nothing on Juir that any one of you would not have done to save your own lives. With that said, I’m sure you can see the practical side of negotiating with me. I am but one man on which you can exact your vitriol. However, I’m offering you an entire race instead, and the race of beings who destroyed your precious Juir. To me, that would be a much more satisfying outcome.”

Wydor took in the faces of the other members of the Council before responding. He slowly nodded. “We will listen, yet we offer no guarantees. You obviously want something in return for this information. What is that … your life and your freedom?”

Nigel smiled, revealing his teeth to the gathered aliens. Some appeared to gasp, while others knew Humans better and understood that this was simply a facial expression and not a life-challenge. “My Lord Wydor, I had my life and my freedom prior to coming here. Until now, I had no fear of the Juireans ever finding me. No, my desires are for more than what I already had before presenting myself to the Council.”

“And what are those?”

“I seek a small fleet of vessels, along with sufficient credits to rebuild the organization I once led. Oh, and I also need the assurance that you will not come after me once the deal is cut. We are on the same side now, Lord Wydor, but you must hurry if you wish to get the satisfaction of destroying Elision yourselves. The Humans of Earth also know the location Elision and I’m sure they’re preparing to launch their own fleet against the Kracori.”

Nigel frowned when he saw the Juirean Elder grin. That was not the reaction
he
was expecting.