Raiders of the Shadow: An epic space opera adventure: Book 1 of The Human Chronicles Legacy Series Read online

  Raiders of the Shadow

  Book 1 of The Human Chronicles Legacy Series

  T.R. Harris

  An Adam Cain & Copernicus Smith Adventure

  * * *

  Copyright 2021

  by Tom Harris Creations, LLC

  All rights reserved.**

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  Novels by T.R. Harris

  The Human Chronicles Legacy Series

  Raiders of the Shadow

  War of Attrition (coming June 2021)

  * * *

  The Adam Cain Saga

  The Dead Worlds

  Empires

  Battle Plan

  Galactic Vortex

  Dark Energy

  Universal Law

  The Formation Code

  The Quantum Enigma

  Children of the Aris

  * * *

  The Human Chronicles

  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

  Terminus Rising

  The Last Aris

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  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

  Box Set #5—Books 21-25 in the series

  Box Set #6 — Books 26-29 in the series

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  REV: Rebirth

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  REV: Requiem

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  Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series

  The Enclaves of Sylox

  Treasure of the Galactic Lights

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  Day of the Drone

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  In collaboration with Co-Author George Wier…

  The Liberation Series

  Captains Malicious

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  Contents

  Adam Cain

  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

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

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  Adam Cain

  Is an Alien with an Attitude

  His adventures continue in …

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  The Human Chronicles

  Legacy Series

  Chapter 1

  Whoever designed this ship should be shot!

  … Copernicus Smith cursed under his breath.

  * * *

  He was ensconced in a too-small access tube in the forward section of the Borkis-Class freighter, struggling with a replacement focusing ring that refused to lock into place. He’d been at it for several hours, and still the stubborn part refused to cooperate.

  Coop had a remote camera hovering near the receiver coupling with a monitor affixed to the metal wall of the access tube, showing him what he was up against. Earlier, he’d cut the internal gravity to this section of the ship and now had a magnetic belt around his waist to keep him stationary in the tube. The lack of gravity helped with the repairs, which were two-fold at this point.

  As a top-notch starship repairman, Copernicus knew what the problem was. When he’d initially removed the old focusing ring, the gripper unit tweaked the receiver coupling a little too much, bending the flange. Now the threads on the new unit weren’t engaging, and before he could replace the focusing ring, he would first have to repair the bent flange.

  The job involved the use of a pair of high-tech pliers—for lack of a better word. In reality, the device looked like a Tinker Toy version of a crab with multiple appendages jutting out from the central hub. Everything in the tool was electronic and under Coop’s expert control; in fact, all the equipment he had with him was familiar and state-of-the-art. He needed them for his business. So, it was especially embarrassing when he kept losing the grip on the flange as if it were coated in oil. Unfortunately, it was. That was Coop’s first solution at screwing in the new focusing ring, thinking the threads were just rough with corrosion. They weren’t; the flange was bent, which he knew now. At the time, he didn’t and had coated the entire apparatus with oil. Now it was making grabbing the metal flange near impossible.

  Copernicus shook his head from exasperation, which was a professional no-no. He made his living by repairing old, broken down and mistreated starships. If everyone followed maintenance schedules and tended to minor upkeep, major repairs would be few and far between. But what bothered Copernicus the most was the annoying fact that this particular Borkis-Class freighter was … his.

  And how would it look if a starship repairman couldn’t keep his own ship running?

  He blew out a deep breath in the quiet of the access tube while justifying his current predicament. As he saw it, after working all day—or several days—repairing a spaceship, the last thing he wanted to do when he got back to base was work on his own. That philosophy was coming back to bite him in the ass.

  He checked his watch, shaking his head in disgust. For nine hours, the Star Surfer had been dead in the water. When focusing rings went bad, that was what happened. As the name implies, the rings focused the gravity energy from the generators at a specific point about a thousa
nd miles ahead of the ship, feeding enough into the confined space to initiate a microscopic blackhole. Since energy and matter are different manifestations of the same thing, it took an incredible amount of energy, but that’s what the generators were designed to do. The blackhole would only stay in existence for a millisecond before it would dissolve and be replaced with another. That was how faster-than-light travel worked, by creating a series of small blackholes and enclosing the originating starship within the event horizon. Space in all directions would be drawn toward the tiny blackholes, and when they dissolved, space would rebound, taking the starship with it. Through this process, the ship moved through space by falling toward the singularity rather than being propelled. And with the originating generator solidly within the influence of the event horizon, there was no time dilation or other effects as defined by Einstein. It was a pretty slick arrangement—when things worked correctly.

  And every faster-than-light ship had double sets of focusing rings positioned forward and aft. Larger craft, such as Juirean and Union warships, had designated compartments for the rings, with stations for five, eight or up to twenty rings, depending on the size of the ship. But in smaller spacecraft—along with most cargo vessels—the ship was designed first, and then the focusing rings stuck in places according to their required spacing. This meant ring stations could be anywhere; in sleeping compartments, cargo holds, or even along obscure access tubes where prodigious amounts of internal wiring were found. That was the case with Coop’s Borkis.

  In most situations, that was fine; focusing rings rarely went bad. But when they did, it was a bitch to replace them. Coop had plenty of replacements onboard, and as mentioned, he had the proper tools and equipment for the job. It was just that the placement of this ring was especially problematic, eliciting the sentiment that whoever designed this ship should be shot. Apparently, the engineers never personally replaced a focusing ring in a Borkis-Class freighter. If they had, they would have planned it better.

  It was a jarring experience nine hours earlier when the Star Surfer let out a pitiful moan and then abruptly dropped out of the gravity-well. Coop was napping in his compartment at the time with the ship on autopilot, heading for his next job site. He rushed to the bridge and checked the status boards. He cringed when he learned the location of the defective ring, knowing there was nothing accessible about the access tube. It was merely a cramped void where wires and ducting ran. He had to remove a section of passageway panels even to reach the area and then reroute several critical runs so he could squeeze past. Cutting the internal gravity helped, but still, the going was slow. It took four hours before Coop could even reach the focusing ring. In hindsight, it would have been faster if he’d dumped the atmosphere in the Star Surfer and accessed the device from outside the ship, along the hull. But at a point, it became a matter of principle that he squirm his way through a river of wires to reach the coupling station.

  The ring itself came out without a hitch. The real frustration came when he tried to screw in the new one. At the time, he didn’t know the flange was bent, which caused his temper to flair, sending a symphony of swear words echoing off the metal walls. He was into his sixth hour of the repair when he discovered the real problem. That changed his tactic and sent him scurrying out of the access tube for more tools.

  But now, Copernicus Smith was making progress. According to what he could see on the monitor, his repair of the coupling was successful. Even the oil sheen was less now that he’d cleaned off the flange and the gripper tool. He positioned the focusing ring at the leading edge of the coupler and pressed the button on the handle of the gripper. The ring began to spin slowly. He felt the contact through the metal bar and a few seconds later sensed the meshing of the threads. Five seconds later, the ring was in place and locked down.

  He closed his eyes, savoring the relaxing sensation of floating in zero-g. But he didn’t have time to waste. He worked the datapad he had with him and was rewarded when the ring lit up, its bluish tinge reflecting around the myriad of obstacles to fill the so-called access tube with light. He was done with the repair. However, things were far from normal.

  A few minutes later, a sweat-soaked Copernicus was on the bridge, opening a link with the Ryness Cartel and Saan Vors, the being who gave him his latest assignment.

  “Good news, Saan,” Coop said. “I have my ship running again. I can be on-site in about twelve standard hours.”

  The green-faced alien made his best impression of a grimace. “That is news of a varying kind, Copernicus. It is good that your ship is running, but unfortunate that the repair contract has already been given to another entity.”

  “You gave away my contract?” Coop asked incredulously.

  “As you know, our ships cannot be left for long without mobility. There are too many risks to be faced.”

  “But I can be there in half a standard day. You’ve waited this long; can’t you wait a little longer? After all, what are the chances someone will find the ship?”

  Saan’s eyes grew wide. “The chance is high. This particular vessel had only recently raided a cargo ship from Formil. It was carrying a substantial cargo of electronics. As you know, devices of true Formilian design and construction are expensive and most sought-after. Our ship is towing a string of ten pods. The value of the cargo is immense. Others will seek out the crippled vessel, especially with this kind of cargo. In addition, the Juireans have dispatched a Class-3 to track down the raider. It will be onsite in two standard days. We have no room for error. If they find the ship, the crew will be obligated to destroy both the vessel and the cargo, as is our policy. That we cannot allow to happen.”

  “And you can get someone out there faster than me?”

  “Yes, it has been guaranteed.”

  “Who did you get?”

  Coop saw the alien grimace again, saying all Copernicus needed to know.

  “Not Kinorus, that slimy-skinned bastard!”

  “He has a ship in the vicinity. I had no choice. It was untimely that your vessel experienced difficulties. But I can assure you, Copernicus, there will be future business. There is always business for beings such as yourself—and Kinorus.”

  Although Coop understood the urgency—the Cartel couldn’t afford to have one of their raiders broken down for long—he was still pissed that he’d lost the assignment and to Kinorus of all creatures.

  Copernicus depended on the Ryness Cartel for most of his business. There weren’t many legitimate repair shops that would service ships with ties to organized crime, and Copernicus specialized in such questionable work. The money was great, and the damn Cartel ships broke down on a regular basis, coming as they did from a hodge-podge fleet of stolen or derelict vessels. It kept Copernicus busy, as long as he could fulfill the contracts—and keep his mouth shut. This recent setback would cause his reputation to suffer, but it wouldn’t be enough for him to lose all his business—just some of it.

  After a few more minutes of expressing his displeasure with the turn of events, Coop amicably ended the conversation with Saan, not wanting to bite the hand that fed him. Then with another grim shake of his head, Coop turned the Star Surfer around and headed back home, his tail figuratively between his legs.

  After a quick shower, Coop opened a secure link with Earth, routing the Continuous Wormhole call through several relay stations to hide its destination. He didn’t stop to think what time it was on the distant planet, and when his handler came on the screen, the man was propped up on one elbow in his bed, shirtless and rubbing his eyes to gain focus. Once he recognized Copernicus, Kellan Drake sighed, his emotion indeterminant.

  “Did you get your ship running?”

  “I did, but Saan already gave away the contract. Sorry.”

  Kellan pursed his lips. “You wouldn’t have this problem if you let us give you a decent ship, one that wasn’t a flying junk pile.”

  “No can do, boss; I have to keep up appearances. Getting a new ship would raise too many questions.
”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “And in other news you’re not going to like, I found out the Ryness ship was carrying a cargo of genuine Formilian electronics. That sucks.”

  “It does, but it’s not unexpected. Forty percent of the Ryness raids have been on Formilian cargo ships. That’s way beyond coincidence. We’ve discussed it before; they’re specifically targeting Formilian shipments. How they know when and where the ships will be transiting The Shadow is the big mystery. But no matter how you slice it, that ship would’ve taken priority. We could have tracked it back to their base—” Kellan held up his hand to stop Coop’s protest. “I know; if they have a central base. But that’s what you’re out there to find out.”

  “I don’t think they do. The Ryness is not run like the Gradis Cartel, with military ranks and central bases. These guys are more like a bunch of pirates, with only a loose affiliation. Even so, they are a pretty well-organized bunch of pirates.”