The War of Pawns (The Human Chronicles -- Book Three) (42 page)

Adam’s Exitor-class starship had been christened
The Stonewall Jackson
, or simply
The Jackson
, after a long-distant relative of Sherri’s. Adam had already had his chance to name a spaceship, and had retired the name of the
Cassie 1
. The fewer the reminders he had of Maria and Cassie, the better. He respected their memory, but now he had to avenge their deaths.

Sherri had jumped at the chance to name the ship, and had spent a full week trying to come up with a suitable moniker. When she announced her decision to Adam, he had cringed at first. “Are you serious? What significance does that have for any of us?”

Sherri had seemed genuinely hurt by Adam’s comments, and had stormed out of his room saying, “Fuck it! Then you name the damn ship.”

He had chased after her and apologized. If old Stonewall had significance to her, then that was good enough for him. After all, who would have named a Juirean Counselor’s shuttle the
Cassie 1
?

The Jackson
began a slow gravity descent toward Hi’Jea after receiving clearance from Entry Command. Gaining clearance had simply taken a cover story that the ship was bringing heavy equipment to the Belsonian Industrial Complex. Adam was also surprised to learn that no onboard inspection would be required, even after they had loaded up as many bulky and rusted pieces of equipment as they could find lying around the base on Viemon-2, just in case they were boarded. After a few minutes of debate, the crew reasoned that the lack of security must have been from the belief that no one in their right mind would send a strike force against the very center of Juirean strength in the Sector.

It was precisely for that reason that Adam had picked this target.

Because of the tight quarters at the landing field,
The Jackson
used a chemical landing and set down on the planet right around Day16, just as the Melforean sun was setting. Each member of the team began to suit-up for the assault.

Adam sat in his stateroom, Sherri seated next to him, as Tobias and Peanut surveyed the results. “Not bad,” Tobias said with a grin.

“Yeah, you better keep Kaylor away from Sherri, otherwise we may have some alien hanky-panky going on.”

“Knock it off you two,” Sherri said. “This is embarrassing enough as it is.”

Adam and Sherri were each wearing plastic attachments hooked to their ears that wrapped around their chins and across their noses. Each of the attachments had prominent one-inch long protrusions dangling below each ear, looking vaguely like fingers – or some other appendage often not mentioned in mixed company. The attachments had been painted to perfectly match their skin color. Also, the two of them had painted light blue lines on their faces and hands.

The effect was passable, at best. But now Adam and Sherri looked like a cute little Belsonian couple, the same race as Kaylor. At night, and at a distance, they were hoping it would be enough to get them close enough to their target.

“Let’s get this over with,” Adam said, as he slipped a large coat over his gear vest, M4 strapped behind his back. Sherri donned her own oversize coat, and the two ‘aliens’ headed for the cargo bay.

A quick link while descending had reserved a large, covered transport for them, ostensibly for the equipment they were delivering to the Industrial Complex. Adam and Sherri found the vehicle parked a safe distance from the LZ, and they drove it back to ship, where the nine SEALs quickly climbed into the back, each in full combat gear, and carrying an extra duffle bag each. None of the SEALs were in disguise.

The Belsonian Industrial Complex was located 20 clicks from the landing field, and they made good time by merging onto a transport line that was relatively empty at this time of night.

Peanut stuck his head into the driver’s cockpit. “I don’t see any hover cars or flying suits. What kind of alien world is this, anyway?”

“Yeah, it was kind of a letdown for me, too,” Adam said. “I feel we’ve been duped by all the sci-fi movies.”

“But I sure like the feel of this gravity,” Peanut said. “It’s like I just dropped fifty pounds overnight!”

“Just wait until you start operating in this. It will give you one raging hard—” Adam stopped abruptly as he remembered Sherri seated next to him in the dark. He had too quickly fallen back into his old locker-room habits.

“Were you going to say hard-on, Captain Cain?” she asked. “Why don’t you just say woody, or pocket-rocket, or throbbing gristle, or the holy rail, or the stain maker? Or even Johnson, if Petty Officer Tom Johnson won’t mind.” Adam could hear the smile in her voice. She always reveled in making feeling men uncomfortable with her shocking vocabulary. “Just treat me like one of the guys.”

“Where’d you come up with all those?” Adam asked. “There were a few in there
I
hadn’t even heard of.”

“Goes with the territory, boys. Goes with the territory.”

The Belsonian Industrial Complex was a large, filthy-looking cluster of 10-story warehouses and manufacturing plants. They refined metal ore into steel here, although of much lower quality and strength than on Earth. The Belsonian government owned most of the equipment, although the Melforeans owned the buildings and the land. It was a complex set up, but it worked for them.

Adam pulled the transport up to the main security gate, leaning back in the seat so as to keep his face mainly in the shadows. He felt silly with the dangling appendages below his ears, and he could feel them dance around every time he spoke.

The Belsonians also manufactured parts for Xan-Fi flash rifles in the Complex, but not the entire weapon. Even so, security was very tight entering the area – that was unless you were a Belsonian.

Belsonia was located eight Sectors in closer to the Core, and as such, not a lot of native Belsonians resided in The Fringe. Those that did either worked for the company, or were criminals or crewmembers aboard large merchant ships, such as how Kaylor had got his start.

The guard stepped forward, as two more cradled Xan-Fi’s in their arms. Once the guard recognized the appendages, his mood lightened considerably.

“Greetings. What is your business here this night?” he asked, setting a steady eye on Sherri’s obvious female form in the dim light of the passenger seat. Belsonians were polygamists, and as such considered any female fair game.

“Just a load of rusty metal for the smelters. So where are you from?” Adam asked.

“Creeses originally, but I was living in Grymore before coming to this stinking place. What about you…and your fine mate here?”

“We come from Jelsse,” Adam said, reciting the name of Kaylor’s home town. “We will be returning that way as soon as we make this drop.”

“Possibly you could delay your departure a while as me and my brothers here mate with your female?”

“That would be a possibility. Just as soon as we make our drop.”

The guard quickly stepped back and motioned for his ‘brothers’ to open the gate. They all had satisfying grins on their faces as the transport moved away and into the Complex.

“I think you really enjoyed pimping me out like that,” Sherri said, feigning insult.

“Anything for a quick buck, my dear.”

They proceeded deep into the Industrial Complex, following a map Adam had memorized from an orbital view of the area. Soon they came to the edge of the Complex, where a ten-meter-high wall of concrete rose up before them. But even the height of the wall could not hide the massive dish-shaped antenna that rose to a dizzying height in the field beyond.

This was their true target: The main communication relay facility for the Juirean Command, the main link between The Fringe and Juir herself.

Chapter Sixty

Most of the SEALs and non-SEALs aboard Riyad’s ship had become somewhat accustomed to space travel by this point, but still, the Barrier up close was always something to behold.

The nebular clouds of gas and debris filled the entire viewport, and the light from every color imaginable painted the pilothouse like a scene out of some psychedelic trip. Riyad allowed the assembled men in the room to take in the view for a few minutes more, before calling them all to order.

“Let’s get suited up. The trip over is going to take about four hours. Besides, if you think the Barrier is impressive from inside here, just wait until you’re outside.”

With that, the members of Team Bravo quickly filed out and headed for the cargo bay.

The eight members of Riyad’s team began to climb into the heavy spacesuits, one helping the other to squeeze in and seal their suit. Chief Rutledge cinched down the last bolt around Riyad’s helmet and knocked on the lens.

“You all come back now, ya hear.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Riyad said, flashing his trademark smile. “Just keep us on target. Other than that, it’s just a walk in the park – if your park is a zillion-zillion cubic meters of outer space!”

“Seriously, be careful buddy.”

“Will do, Chief.”

The Team moved to the main exterior airlock for the ship dressed in their bulky suits, yet aided by the reduction in gravity they’d set for this section of the ship. They all crowded in, each carrying with them a bag strapped to their waist belt.

“Hook up,” Riyad ordered, and they all clasped safety lines to loops in the belts. “Okay, here we go.”

The door to the airlock slid aside, and Team Bravo found themselves looking out at the brilliance of the Barrier, with only about two millimeters of glass separating them from the great vacuum of space. Even the SEALs, who were used to HALO jumps, inhaled audibly. Riyad had made several free-assaults on spaceships before, so he was somewhat accustomed to this. But four hours in free flight – that would be something altogether new for him.

Yet this was the only way they could approach the station undetected. The monitoring station was a large, circular platform sitting right at the very edge of the Barrier and looking away into the Far Arm. It would be from here that the first detection of the Human fleet would come, so it was imperative that they take it out.

But seeing that the station was so important, it was also heavily guarded.

Riyad had named his ship
The Secura
, which was the Italian word for ‘free from fear or doubt.’ It was also the middle name of his mother. (Yes, Riyad Tarazi had some Italian blood in him.)
The Secura
had entered the area in dark mode, and had coasted to within a thousand kilometers of the station. Going any closer would put them in range of the station’s mass detectors, which as Jym had explained, sounded a lot like radar. Riyad, and his tiny band of free-floaters, would be undetectable because of their small size.

Each suit was equipped with a reactive backpack that would propel them to their destination. Riyad activated his pack, and began to swiftly pull the string of warriors behind him as he set off for the station, still invisible at this distance. His heart rose up in his chest, as Riyad got the distinct impression that he was heading straight off into the vastness of space, a humbling experience if ever there was one.