The Unreachable Stars: Book #11 of The Human Chronicles Saga by T.R. Harris

his ATD, and he was thankful he had it now to allow the conversation he’d just had with Riyad. He grimaced, thinking that he’d offered to give it up so that Panur could build his detector. Even then, it was for the noblest of causes that he was going to sacrifice the special powers the device gave him. And with Riyad on his way—and having already agreed to give up his—that left him only two short. Unfortunately, he’d still have to contact Arieel.
    That was an entirely different matter, and one he had no idea how he was going to approach…
    From somewhere in the wind, the mental signatures of three battery packs for MK plasma weapons registered in his mind. While on Earth, he rarely felt this awareness, since almost all Human weapons were conventional projectile devices. Now that he was back in the regular galaxy, energy-powered weapons were everywhere. Yet here, in the dark of a near-empty spaceport, their presence seemed out of place.
    The objects were moving, two cutting across his path to the VIP elevator, another coming up from behind.
    Adam pursed his lips. Damn, that was a waste of money , he thought, considering the money he’d spent to stay anonymous. It was obvious someone knew he was here, and with a bounty of galactic proportions on his head, the unfolding events weren’t totally unexpected.
    Through his brain interface, Adam located the control modules for the three MK’s and severed the contacts between the trigger and the firing circuit. The readouts on the weapons would remain active, the guns just wouldn’t fire.
    The three bounty hunters were closer now, and Adam decided it best if he used them to get information first, before he did anything else. Considering the foul mood he was in at the moment, this wasn’t going to end well for his assailants.
    It happened as Adam passed a Juirean AM-81 merchant cruiser, sitting cold and idle on the brown soil of the spaceport. Two creatures, both Castorians, stepped out of the black shadows, MK-17’s leveled at him. Adam opened his eyes wide and threw up his hands.
    “Please don’t shoot! I have credits…you can have them.”
    Castorians were tall creatures—as are most beings from light gravity worlds—Primes with basic Humanoid features. What made them appear more alien was how their eyes were set almost to the sides of their narrow faces, almost lizard-like, allowing them to move independently and scan nearly three hundred sixty degrees around them. Their skin was pale, the result of a centuries-long migration to underground living, as the surface of the planet was ever the more stripped clean of vegetation to get at the precious raw materials buried just below the surface. As a result, oxygen levels had dropped and ozone was depleted from the atmosphere, exposing the planet to increased stellar radiation.
    Physically, the natives had adapted to the lower oxygen levels, yet to protect against the radiation, they’d moved underground, occupying vast mines and caverns that had been carved out over the centuries following veins of metals, minerals, and gemstones. Castor was a fairly rich world—by Fringe standards—with their population still digging ever-deeper for the raw materials needed by a growing, industrialized galaxy.
    Yet there was always an element looking to make a quick buck through illegal activities, and Adam was now face to face with two of them, with a third lurking in the shadows behind him in case something unforeseen occurred.
    “You know we are not after your credits, Adam Cain. Where is the mutant?” The speaker was the taller of the two, with a dark red gash running diagonally across his pale face. He looked to be the sort who grew up on the dark side of Castorian society, and he moved closer to Adam with an intimidating confidence that the Human was sure worked on other Castorians, but not on him. Still, Adam played his part.
    “Look, all I was supposed to do is bring the creature here. Now he’s left and I don’t