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

Adam Cain is an Alien with an Attitude.

His adventures continue…

Chapter 1

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil …

because I’m the meanest son-of-a-bitch in the valley!

R
iyad Tarazi smiled when the saying popped in his head – it seemed so appropriate for the moment.

He looked down at the alien-on-the-bed and shook his head. Yes, the obnoxious creature had pissed him off – as did most aliens – and being the bastard that he was, Riyad wasn’t about to let him get away with it. After all, in this valley,
Riyad
was the meanest son-of-a-bitch, a fact that was just now dawning on the unfortunate alien-on-the-bed.

Riyad knew he wasn’t the nicest guy around, and now with the added benefit of being a
Human
in alien space, he found he’d often go out of his way to be even
more
of a bastard out here than he would back on Earth. This made sense, because on his homeworld there was always a meaner, tougher S.O.B. waiting just around the corner to take you down; but out here in the galaxy … not so much.

A perfect example of this was the alien Riyad had strapped to the bed of his hotel room. He was a bureaucrat in the licensing department of the Silvean Trade Guild, the official union governing all merchant transactions within the Juddle Nebula. As it was with most beings in positions of appointed government power, the tall, green-skinned creature had an over-blown impression of himself, so much so that he ended up upsetting the wrong alien with his arrogant and condescending attitude.

That alien was Riyad Tarazi … from the planet
Klingon
.

Unfortunately, Riyad’s attempt at levity was the reason his cover story had unraveled, leading to the unfortunate series of events where a floppy-eared
Tel’oran
trade official was now tied to the bed, struggling against his bindings and protesting in no uncertain terms that his confinement was completely against protocol.

“By your actions, you have proven that you are no trader, but rather a mercenary or thief of some kind. I should have known immediately when the race of
Klingon
did not appear in any of our databases.”

Riyad grimaced.
Yes, that was probably a mistake
. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t just waltz into the Juddle Nebula and declare himself a Human, not with more Kracori spies here than anywhere else in the galaxy. Instead, he glued a set of fake gills on the sides of his neck and called himself a
Klingon
. Even though he was pretty sure Klingons didn’t have gills, he was positive Humans didn’t. With over eight thousand known species in the galaxy – many of which uncatalogued – he had expected the Guild official to simply accept Klingons as just another of these uncatalogued races. Then after a quick check to verify that Humans were gill-less, the bored and disinterested government troll would enter his credentials and stamp his card.

At least that was the plan.

Yet to the misfortune of the alien-on-the-bed, the Tel’oran official had become suspicious and insisted on a complete workup on the Klingon race before he would issue even a temporary trade certificate. Riyad had neither the time nor patience for such bureaucratic bullshit. So before the alien could raise the alarm, Riyad slapped him unconscious, rolled him up in a bolt of cloth pulled from the curtains in his office, and carried him out of the building propped up under his right arm like so much trash being taken out.

No one questioned Riyad as he carried his bundle from the building. After all who would assume a full-grown Tel’oran could be carried so effortlessly? Yet to a Human, the thin-boned Tel’oran was about as heavy as a bag of groceries.

Now they were back in Riyad’s room, all settled in and having a more reasoned conversation regarding Riyad’s specific needs.

“I apologize if our association didn’t start off with the best of manners. What is your name, my friend? Perhaps we should get to know each other better.”

“I am Juous Minn, and I am afraid the time for pleasantries has passed.” For emphasis, the alien-on-the-bed jerked hard against his bindings. “No amount of courtesy will overcome the fact that you have abducted me … and simply because I questioned your claim to be a … a Klingon.”

 
“What does it matter to you whether I’m a Klingon … or a Smurf?” Riyad asked. “I’m just one person. Even if I meant to cause harm, what could I do on my own?”

“It matters not if you are one or a hundred, the fact that you have physically accosted and restrained me on this bed proves that your intentions are evil.”

Riyad nodded. “I can’t argue with that; however, if you believe that then why are you still resisting? All I am seeking is passage with a trade convoy. I truly do have goods to sell and your nebula is a prime market. We both come out winners. Just enter my information in your blasted computer and we can both get on with our lives.”

“I will
not
do that,” the alien stated firmly. “The Guild has existed for hundreds of years; we serve the Silvean Nebula and protect it from
Outers –
such as you. We are not part of the Expansion, or the Federation or any other such affiliation. We only accept outside trade as a consequence of our need for advanced technologies. Other than that, we need nothing from those beyond the Nebula, even from
Smurfs
… whatever they are.”

“They’re little blue creatures with antennae, but that’s not important now,” Riyad answered with a brilliant white smile. The Guild official didn’t recoil from the sight of Riyad’s teeth, revealing to him that this particular breed of alien didn’t subscribe to the bare-teeth-means-life-challenge, as did much of the Expansion. This was good; Riyad did so love to flash his pearly whites – and without having to kill aliens just for doing so.

The alien-on-the-bed was still talking. “I have come to believe that you are indeed trying to hide your true identity, which can only mean one thing: You are a
Human
in disguise, here to spy on the Nebula. Why else would you come with such devious ways?”

Riyad had taken a gamble when establishing his cover. Having no idea which races were included in the Guild’s database, he had to come up with some way of guarding against a physical-characteristics scan of any known species he claimed to be, forcing him to use a fake race instead. It was now apparent that security – and paranoia – within the nebula was greater than he’d anticipated.

“And what do you have against Humans … unless you have something to hide from them?” Riyad sat down on the bed next to the squirming alien. Even though this creature had a face like a knobby-faced gremlin – big ears and all – his body language was still easy to read. “Ah, so you
are
hiding something from the Humans! Now I wonder what that could be, my friend? Could it have anything to do with the rumored location of the Kracori homeworld being right here within your precious nebula?”

The alien hesitated before answering. “I know not what you speak of? The Kracori are outlaws, and having knowledge of their whereabouts and not disclosing it would only bring about the wrath of the Humans.”

“Exactly, and maybe that’s why you
Nebulites
– or whatever you call yourselves – are so protective of your turf? After all, what would the Humans do if they found you were harboring fugitives?”

“Humans do not concern us; we do not fear them,” the alien said defiantly, even though his body language continued to betray his true feelings. “And from what I understand, they have all left the Expansion and returned to the Far Arm. As far as I know, the Humans are not even aware of the Silvean Nebula – or the
Juddle
Nebula as you
Outers
call it.”

“And yet you suspect
me
of being one, so much so that you were about to call in your goons to arrest me.”

“I do not understand the word
goon
, but I was about to call in the Enforcers because you were attempting to perpetrate a
fraud
. Trade convoys are very exclusive and restricted to only those with essential goods or established businesses, of which you had neither.”

“I have a shipment of advanced medical monitors, better than any you currently have. My equipment will save lives. Shouldn’t that be enough to grant me a place in a convoy?”

“It would … if your other credentials had checked out. Yet you couldn’t even pass the race-of-origin verification. As is now apparent, my suspicions were justified.”

Yes, Riyad had been careless in his development of his
legend
– the background story spies built to hide their true identity and purpose. But who knew the Nebulites – or in this case, the Tel’orans – would be so paranoid? The fact that they
were,
only added more evidence for the circumstantial case that the
‘McCarthy Coordinates’
were correct. Now, more than ever, Riyad was sure he was on the right track.

Chapter 2

Riyad Tarazi…

T
he location of the planet Elision was both the most-coveted secret in the galaxy, as well as its most-closely guarded. It had been over five years since the Humans had declared the Kracori an outlaw race, along with their allies, the Klin. For heinous crimes perpetrated against the people of Earth, mankind was determined to make them both pay.

The Klin had initiated the Juirean/Human War twelve years earlier, guiding the Juireans to the Earth and allowing for the death of nearly a seventh of the planet’s population. The Kracori, for their part, had attempted a nuclear attack on the planet a few years later, designed to irradiate the planet for thousands of years and effectively removing the Human race as a force within the galaxy. If it had not been for the courageous act of a minor race of beings called the Gielians, the Kracori would have succeeded.

Now the K’s – as the Klin-Kracori alliance was often referred – were hunted, not only by the Humans, but also by other races wishing to gain favor with them. Still others, not so blatant in their kowtowing, gladly revealed what information they found so as to not get caught up in the vendetta the Humans sought against their enemies.

To this day, the search for the Klin and the Kracori continued.

It had often been debated how two entire races could so effectively disappear from the galaxy; however, in the case of the Klin, it was more easily understood. Their homeworld of Klinmon had been destroyed four thousand years before by the Juireans, and now they survived in a number of hidden enclaves on a dozen different worlds.

The Kracori were another matter. They did have a homeworld, a planet called Elision, and more than ever, Riyad now believed that this mysterious world was located somewhere within the Juddle Nebula.

The Human outlaw, Nigel McCarthy, had direct knowledge of the planet’s location, having spent three years there before escaping with his small band of Human mercenaries. Then four months earlier, just before being killed by a squadron of attacking Kracori starships, McCarthy had given the coordinates to Captain Mark Henderson, one of Riyad’s former colleagues with the paramilitary unit called
Cain’s Crusaders
. Henderson survived the Kracori attack and eventually made his way back to Earth. There he negotiated a rather favorable reward for himself and then revealed what were now known as the ‘
McCarthy Coordinates
.’

However, with McCarthy himself being a first-rate, backstabbing son-of-a-bitch, the information he’d given Henderson had to first be verified before any action could be taken against the Kracori. After all, one didn’t launch major planetary assaults nine thousand light-years from one’s home planet without first making sure the target was actually there.

That’s where Riyad Tarazi came in.

With so few Humans still operating within the Expansion, the assignment had fallen on the
Crusaders
… or at least what was left of them. Jamal Dawson had died in the same explosion that claimed McCarthy’s life, while Commander Lee Schwartz had been killed during McCarthy’s failed assault on the Crusader’s base on Pyrum-3. Mark Henderson was on Earth enjoying the benefits of his sizable reward, while Adam Cain and Sherri Valentine were halfway there themselves, for what was ostensibly being called a
vacation
. That left only Riyad to carry out the mission.

 
To say that he was excited about his new assignment would have been a gross understatement. When the assignment came in, giving Riyad carte blanche authority to carry out the mission by whatever means necessary, it actually stirred a near-sexual response in the former Al-Qaida commander. Now, without the tempering presence of Adam or Sherri, Riyad was free to return to his roots – as that of a ruthless and pragmatic warrior.

For most of his time in space, Riyad Tarazi had operated solo – or at least without other Humans around. He spent six years as the leader of the
Fringe Pirates
, molding that force of over five hundred alien privateers into a well-oiled criminal enterprise that terrorized the area of the Expansion known as The Fringe Worlds. He prospered financially, while at the same time satisfying a lifelong desire to lead a great number of warriors under his absolute command. Unfortunately, the warriors were alien, not Human; however at the time, his thirst for power had been somewhat satiated, if hollow to a large degree.

Since joining up with Adam Cain for their various adventures throughout the galaxy, Riyad’s thirst – and somewhat sadistic tendencies – had been held in check by the other Humans he operated with, many of whom were more skilled at the art of war than he, and therefore, not to be trifled with. That was a shame, because out here in the galaxy Humans were the supermen – stronger, faster and tougher than just about every race they encountered. In the early years of Riyad’s galactic tenure, he had taken full advantage of these special traits, enjoying the literal physical domination he had over others. That changed when more Humans showed up on the scene.

And now Riyad was operating solo once again, freeing him to be as ruthless as the mission required – and with no one looking over his shoulder questioning his methods.

The corners of Riyad’s mouth curled up as he looked over at the alien-on-the-bed. The creature had just admitted he’d never before met a Human, so all his knowledge was based on rumor and myth. Now the alien was about to get a first-hand introduction into what made Humans the terror of the galaxy. It would be knowledge the alien-on-the-bed would carry to his grave … if he wasn’t careful.