Phantoms
Phantoms
The Human Chronicles Saga
Book #27
An Adam Cain Adventure
by
T.R. Harris
____
Copyright 2019 by Tom Harris Creations, LLC
All rights reserved, without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanically, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. *
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Novels by T.R. Harris
The Human Chronicles Saga
The Fringe Worlds
Alien Assassin
The War of Pawns
The Tactics of Revenge
The Legend of Earth
Cain’s Crusaders
The Apex Predator
A Galaxy to Conquer
The Masters of War
Prelude to War
The Unreachable Stars
When Earth Reigned Supreme
A Clash of Aliens
Battlelines
The Copernicus Deception
Scorched Earth
Alien Games
The Cain Legacy
The Andromeda Mission
Last Species Standing
Invasion Force
Force of Gravity
Mission Critical
The Lost Universe
The Immortal War
Destroyer of Worlds
Phantoms
The Human Chronicles Box Set Series
Box Set #1 – Books 1-5 in the series
Box Set #2 – Books 6-10 in the series
Box Set #3 – Books 11-15 in the series
Box Set #4 – Books 16-20 in the series
REV Warriors Series
REV
REV: Renegades
REV: Rebirth
REV: Revolution
REV: Retribution (coming soon)
Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series
The Enclaves of Sylox
Treasure of the Galactic Lights
The Drone Wars Series
Day of the Drone
In collaboration with George Wier…
The Liberation Series
Captains Malicious
Available exclusively on Amazon.com and FREE to members of Kindle Unlimited.
Contents
Adam Cain is an alien with an attitude.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
The Continuation…
Author Notes and FREE BOOK OFFER
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Novels by T.R. Harris
Adam Cain is an alien with an attitude.
His story continues…
In the aftermath of the war with Kracion—the Mad Aris—Adam Cain and his team prepare to head out in a pair of trans-dimensional (TD) starships built by the genius mutant Panur. Their mission: Search for answers to Kracion’s disappearance. Did he plunge into the fiery depths of the star, to spend eternity paying for his crimes? Or was he rescued at the last second by the surviving Aris? If so, why? Will he face the punishment he deserves for the death and destruction he caused, or are Nunki and the others protecting one of their own? With the help of Panur and Lila, the team is out to find the answers.
In the meantime, Summer Rains and the Juirean ex-Overlord Tidus are returning to the Colony Ship from Zinnol with an injured Monty Pitts—when suddenly the ship is attacked by raiders. Miraculously surviving the attack, they steer their crippled starship to the nearest habitable planet, a hellhole called Sasin. This is where all the refugee rejects ended up after the mass exodus ahead of Kracion’s genocidal attacks. To call the inhabitants of Sasin dregs would be an insult to dregs everywhere. It’s simply the most dangerous place in the galaxy.
After Tidus makes a quick call to the Colony Ship, Adam is on his way to pick up the stranded trio on Sasin. It’s just a little detour. Afterward, he will meet up with the rest of the team in the second TD starship and continue with the mission. Little does he know, but Summer and the others are being hunted by flesh-eating inter-dimensional warriors, an anonymous evil being, and vicious Cartel members, as well as every creature on Sasin out to make a quick credit.
Adam’s trip to Sasin was supposed to be easy. Yeah, no such luck.
1
“There are six vessels, each maneuvering for intercept,” said the Juirean ex-Overlord Tidus Fe Nolan.
Monty Pitts hunched over the scope, a grimace etched on his grizzled face. “It shouldn’t be a problem,” he groaned.
“Why do you say that?” Summer asked her father. “There are six ships about to open fire on us. I would call that a problem.” She watched him carefully, seeing the agony on his face and the pain in his eyes. He’d spent most of the trip back to the Colony Ship from Zinnol laid out on a rack, nursing his wounds. This was the first time in weeks he’d been upright for any extended period. He wasn’t ready.
“Just look at the gravity signatures,” he replied cryptically.
“I don’t understand.”
“Each one is different. If they were military, they’d all be the same, and then we would have a problem, depending on the politics of the region. They could be out to destroy any enemy ships invading their territory. But these are raiders—probably the Gradis Cartel—made up of different kinds of starships, whatever they could find to make up their fleet.”
“And why is that better?”
“Because they will be after the vessel, little one,” Tidus explained. “They will not wish to damage their prize through its acquisition.”
Monty grunted, twisting in the chair while struggling to find a more comfortable position. “Yeah, we just need to show them we’re not going to give up without a fight. After that, they should move on.”
“I thought the Cartel was gone. Didn’t Lila do a number on them a while back?” said Summer.
Monty snorted. “She cut off the head of the snake. But crooks don’t suddenly go straight when their boss is killed. They reorganize and get back to work being crooks. And with all the crap that’s been happening in the galaxy recently, I would be surprised if the Gradis isn’t stronger now than they’ve ever b
een. Centralized military and police forces were devastated by Kracion and the Klin, but decentralized groups like the Cartel can survive just about any localized catastrophe. In fact, they thrive on chaos.”
Monty winced in pain.
“Are you all right?” Summer asked, leaning over and placing a hand on her father’s broad shoulder.
“I’m okay. It only hurts when I bend over… or breathe… or think.” His wry smile did nothing to ease Summer’s concern. It took a lot for the bear of a man to admit his pains—like a rifle barrel shoved through his abdomen by Kracion’s evil eight-foot-tall henchman, may the bastard rest in peace. Monty was healing, but it was taking longer than expected.
“They’re calling for us to shut down and prepare to be boarded,” said Tidus from the pilot’s station.
“So what do we do?” asked the diminutive twenty-two-year-old blonde.
Monty looked up at his daughter with sick eyes. “You’re going to have to man the weapons, Summer. We need Tidus at the flight controls, and I’m in no condition to work WEPS.”
“But I’ve never fired a flash cannon before.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll be right next to you, telling you what to do. As I said, we just have to make a show of it. The Gradis won’t bother with us if they know all they’ll get is a shot up piece of junk in the end. And we might even take a few of them with us. After all, we have an Olympic Gold Medalist at the firing controls.”
“That was in Archery, dad, not in Competitive Energy Weapons Shooting.”
“Do they even have that event?”
For Summer, Monty’s painful smile/grimace was heart-wrenching.
“You shouldn’t even be up here. You should be in bed.”
“And miss all the fun? No way.”
“You better get her into position,” Tidus recommended. “Our attackers have split into two groups. One is moving ahead to slow us down. Be assured, Summer, all will work out. And recall, the FWV-140 is a Formilian Bokiss Class warship. It has substantial armament and defenses. I will attempt to keep our vessel aligned properly for optimal targeting efficiency.”
“I appreciate that because it’s going to take a lot more than beginner’s luck to pull this one off.”
Summer sat at the weapons station of the ship the crew had nicknamed the Forty—short for 140—while Monty sat in the secondary control seat. They strapped in, which was another activity that brought a twist of agony to Monty’s face. Summer noticed.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just concentrate, sweetie. This shouldn’t last more than a few minutes, and then I’ll get back to bed. I promise.”
Summer scanned the control console and triple screen layout on the bulkhead in front of her. “Okay, what do I do?”
“Since you’re new at this—and we have one gunner—we’ll only use the starboard battery. Tidus will keep us facing the enemy ships in that direction, so that will make it easier.” Monty pointed to the keypad to the left of the center control stick. “This is your target indicator and battery selector. You have two cannons on each side, and then one forward and one aft. Each cannon has two barrels. You can assign different targets to each barrel, but for now, we’ll keep them married so you won’t have to worry about that. The dual foot pedals on the deck are for selecting which cannon you’re using. Again, don’t worry about that. We’ll have both cannon focused on the same target.”
“So four bolts for each shot?”
“That’s right.” Monty tapped on the larger center screen. “The computer will paint each target. You use the keypad on the left to indicate which target you want the bolts to go to. The buttons below the main selector will zoom in and allow you to refine the targeting using the control stick. Since all bolts are ballistic in nature, you will have to lead the targets using the joystick, just like duck hunting back home. Remember?”
“I know about leading a target, dad. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I was a better shot than you back then, and I’m certainly a better one now. Nothing personal. Some of us just have it, and some don’t.” She smiled at the big man. “All I have to do is learn a new weapon system. Of course, this is a lot bigger than anything I’ve used before.”
Monty nodded, a proud smile on his face. What she said was true. Summer always had extraordinary eye-to-hand coordination.
“Tap the buttons to indicate a leading direction. The computer will calculate the speed and direction of the target, factor in our relative speed and direction and set the intercept point fairly accurately. The Formilians are the best in the galaxy with electronics, so you have a state-of-the-art weapons system at your command. So have some fun.”
“This ain’t no game, Daddy.”
“I know; just trying to lighten the mood. Now, the button on the backside of the stick is the firing control. All you need to do is place a few four-bolt barrages to the center of the targets, and that should make these Cartel bastards think twice about capturing the ship.” He patted her back. “You’ll do fine.”
“Seems like a lot of moving parts. I prefer my compound bow.”
“You should see the big boys operate a firing console. It’s like watching a conductor directing an orchestra, with feet working the pedals, fingers dancing over the keys and hands working the joystick. And this ship has dual weapons stations. We have to keep her away from the Gradis Cartel. She could be a real killer in the wrong hands.”
Monty tapped the screen again. “See, the computer already has the six ships in range and targeted. You can tab between them with the button on the left side of the joystick. I would target this one to begin with and send him a welcoming kiss.” He pointed at a location on the center screen.
Summer gripped the control stick, watching the circle on the screen jump from target to target as she pressed the side button. When it came to the designated bogie, she tapped a button on the keypad and the flashing circle locked on target. She had never been shy about taking the shot, either in archery or during her time on the D.C. SWAT team. She didn’t hesitate here, either.
The combatants were about ten thousand kilometers from one another, so the bolts—traveling at nearly the speed of light—took only a split second to reach their destination. Summer glanced at the side screens as data was displayed regarding the strike; the bolts hit the target and were absorbed by the diffusion shields. She expected nothing less. At least she’d hit—
Suddenly, the Forty banked hard left and angled up, the inertial compensators working overtime to keep the crew from being ripped from their safety harnesses. The comps were always a split second behind the action, especially during the most radical moves.
“What the hell, Tidus?” Summer yelled. She glanced at her father. He spit out an agonizing scream and clenched his teeth, his bear-like arms gripping the armrests, trying to steady his body. Blood already stained his shirt where staples were ripped from his still-healing wound.
“Incoming! Prepare yourselves,” Tidus called out from the pilot seat.
Summer looked at the screen on her right. It showed solid lines of white—at least twelve of them—coming from the six Cartel vessels and focused on the Formilian starship. Tidus had the Forty in a tight spiral, racing up and out of the circle formed by the enemy ships. It wasn’t going to be enough.
Alarms blared, and lights flickered as the diffusion screens took in an excess of energy from the bolts. The shields were arranged in panels, so there were still gaps between them. Several of the bolts either passed by the panels cleanly or were sheared off by the energy screens before continuing to the hull in a weakened state. Summer felt the hair on her head and arms stand up from the sudden influx of static electricity in the air. The ship was bleeding off the excess energy, disbursing it throughout the hull. It was a last ditch effort to keep the shields up. Another barrage like that and they would surely fail—all of them.
“I thought you said they didn’t want to damage the ship?” Summer yelled over the din of the alarms and creaking hull.
“This is highly unusual,” Tidus remarked.
“You’re both so full of shit!”
“Your pardon, young one!” the Juirean yelled out.
“Relax, Tidus, it’s a compliment,” Monty groaned.
“I know otherwise!”
“Summer, start firing,” her father ordered. “Shoot… anything!”
Summer was a step ahead, already cycling through the targets and unleashing bolts into the cold vacuum of space. In her rush, she forgot to lead the targets, resulting in most of her shots falling far to the rear of the moving spaceships. Another answering barrage of killer track lines was on its way from the Cartel vessels.
The Forty was quick and agile, the latest Formilian design. Unfortunately, the flesh-and-blood bodies inside were not built for the stress. When the internal gravity went down—and with it, the inertia compensators—everyone was tossed about like rag dolls, the wide straps of the seat restraints the only things keeping them from being battered to a pulp against the hard metal bulkheads. Monty passed out, the exacerbated pain of his prior injury too much to bear.
Summer did her best to keep up a steady rate of fire. She was pleased to find she was getting the hang of the controls. In fact, she had reached a point where her mind canceled out the distracting sounds and confusion of the pilothouse, her vision singularly focused on the forward tac screen. Her eyes never wavered, not even to glance at the keypad to her left. She knew the controls intimately, better than she should at this point. Now it was her fingers dancing on the pad, locking targets, zooming in and identifying weak points in the enemy defenses, conducting the orchestra like a maestro. She began to work the foot pedals, separating the cannon barrels and allowing for the discharge of four bolts at a time aimed at multiple targets.