by GARY DARBY
“Though I am not personally familiar with the parameters of each particular scenario, as I remember, some of them contained situations in which possible contact with sentient extraterrestrials occurred.
“In limited ways, we’ve done this sort of thing before, but these new scenarios are intended to be more realistic and challenging.”
He paused, hoping that the admiral was buying his story. If she didn’t, his daughter might find half the Imperium Navy on her tail and their whole scheme would come to light.
He tried to be as convincing as he could while saying, “Ma’am, I honestly think that someone forgot to put the For Training Purposes Only caveat on that message and then compounded the error of transmitting it over operational channels instead of to training command.”
He paused for just a second to let her digest his last statement.
Continuing, he asserted, “And considering that we’ve had an increase in the number of Search and Save missions over the last year, I have no doubt that we would also be doing training scenarios calling for the testing of S and S procedures.”
Expressionless, she gave him a direct stare, and he had a feeling that she had some doubt as to the veracity of his story. He made an immediate offer to try and keep her at bay.
“Would you like for me to check personally with our trainers? As I said, I’m quite sure it’s a foul-up and our training personnel are not even aware of what they’ve done.”
For several seconds, the admiral’s eyelids narrowed and she peered at him with just a hint of disbelief on her face before she asked in a forceful tone, “Are you absolutely sure? It is very peculiar to send such a message encoded in a distress message.”
“I fully agree, ma’am, and that’s why I think it’s part of the training sequence and a serious blunder on our part. But to ease your worry, I’ll contact the ops section at training command and I’ll get a message to Colonel Tuul to investigate this firsthand.
“Since we’re obviously at fault here, and it’s our people conducting the training and in operational control, I’ll get right on this so that it doesn’t happen again.
“As soon as everything is straightened out, I’ll contact you and let General Rosberg know what steps I’ve taken.”
Admiral Stannick grew tight-lipped for a second before saying curtly, “All right, go ahead. I’ll stand down my emergency response team pending what you find out.”
A tiny smile cracked her stern face for a brief instant. “You know, this had us all pretty excited. I was about to launch a major task force; thought it might be the real thing.”
Without being obvious, Double Star exhaled deeply. She had bought it. And he had gained valuable time for his daughter and himself.
He nodded and replied, “I understand ma’am. I’ve seen a few of these messages myself. They do ratchet up the pucker factor but, in the end, they all had plausible explanations, and I’m sure this one has, too.”
The admiral straightened and in a no-nonsense tone stated, “Very well. Contact my ops staff with the details once you have them so we can put our report to bed.”
“Most certainly,” Star answered, “and again my apologies for the misunderstanding and inconvenience, Admiral Stannick.”
She gave him a curt nod. “Give my regards to Rosberg, and tell him to get his people straightened out pronto. Stannick out.”
Star leaned back and wiped a hand across his face. He had tried to appear calm, but his insides felt like someone had poured scalding water into his stomach.
He gazed upward and whispered, “Alena, Alena, what did you do out there?”
Star was positive that his daughter was part of this, and though their plan had been simple in concept, he now had a sudden chilling realization that he might have set loose an uncontrolled monster.
Instead of targeting the few as he had intended, he might have unleashed her fury on the many.
His hands shook, and his breathing became shallow and rapid. His mind whirled with desperate thoughts until he grabbed hold of one—the realization that his devious plans were now too close to home.
To send out his daughter was more than a mistake, it was a disaster.
Not only was he now in the cross-hairs of Peller’s wrath, but so was Alena. After this conversation with Admiral Stannick, it was clear that Alena somehow had gone far beyond their original plan.
With Marrel and Tuul searching for their own evidence against him, with Peller’s dire threats still ringing in his mind, and now with his daughter almost setting off an Imperium-wide alarm, he felt trapped and exposed with every passing instant.
He wiped the growing beads of perspiration from his forehead and felt the room close around him.
His last communique with Peller had only strengthened his feelings that if his misguided plan were left uncorrected, it would be a fatal error on his part. He sat in a cold sweat and tried to calm his jittery mind into cool, rational thought.
How to reverse this downward spiral that could lead to his and his daughter’s death? For a split second, he considered his options. With his communication link with his daughter out, how long could he afford to wait or was there another way to solve the dilemma?
He couldn’t just sit here, hoping that Alena would contact him.
Inaction was not an acceptable course.
He only had one option, and the sooner he got to it, the better. He slapped open his personal communication system.
“Witte!” he bawled, “signal Luna Liaison and tell them I’ll be there in a few hours. Have a Zephyr standing by for my use.
“No pilot, no team,” he continued. “I’ll take it out myself.”
He swallowed hard in realization that what he was about to do would mean the end of his career. But either this or the possible end of his life, and Alena’s too.
“There’s been a major foul-up in one of our joint training missions and Admiral Stannick is hot and wants it cleaned up now, so I’m going to personally take care of it.”
Witte replied, “Do you want me to keep trying to reach the general and let him know what’s going on?”
He hesitated before saying, “No. He’s got enough on his plate, and I can handle this myself. Shouldn’t take too long, and I’ll brief him when I return. Got that?”
“Yes sir,” Witte replied.
Cutting the connection, he strode across the room, grabbed his gear bag and headed for the door. He stopped just inside the doorway to turn and survey his office.
Star knew that just as he had severed the comms link with Witte, he was now dissolving any ties with his past life as a Star Scout.
He had known for a long time that this moment would— no—had to come.
That he was emotionless didn’t surprise him; after all, even with all the trappings and storied history that went with this particular office, he wasn’t the person it signified.
He never had been, and never would be. He had given up that chance once he had made his devil’s pact with Peller.
Closing the door behind him and with purposeful steps, Star marched down the broad corridors of Star Scout Command for the last time.
Not for a second did he consider the implications or the possible reality of the Alpha Prime message.
The one thing that mattered to him at that moment was to find Alena and no matter the cost, to stop her.
It was the only way he knew to save her and himself, from Peller’s lethal wrath.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Star Date 2433.060
Unnamed Planet, Inside the Helix Nebula
“Whoa!” Sami yelped. “We just lost everything coming from the Queen, the navigation feed, comms, environmental data stream, the whole works. Just went completely dead.”
“What?!” Bianca exclaimed. “Check your board,” she ordered. “Is it our malfunction or theirs?”
“It’s got to be them,” Sami replied. “I’ve got input from the other ships. If it were our electronics I would have lost their signals, too
.”
Bianca slapped the comm's button. “Queen Bee, this is Six.”
No answer. “Queen Bee, this is Stinger Six, do you copy?” she repeated.
Again, nothing came back from their overhead ship. Bianca then called out, “Any Stinger craft, do you have contact with the Queen?”
Each ship responded that they, too, had lost all navigation and communication connection with the orbiting vessel.
Dason looked at Sami, whose usual jocular face now held a solemn expression of grave concern. For all the scouters to lose contact with the Queen could only mean trouble.
Perhaps catastrophic trouble.
“Orders, ma’am?” Sami asked quietly.
For a long time, Bianca remained silent before speaking through the communicator. “Stinger craft continue on your inbound course to the Celeste site. We’ll meet up there.”
With that she asked Sami, “Time to the beacon?”
“Under two minutes,” Sami replied.
“Can you get us any more speed?”
“Ma’am, she’s wound up tighter than my Auntie Sadie’s mug after a facelift. We got all we’re going to get. Unless you want me to get out and push.”
Bianca could only nod. For several tense minutes, they raced through the swirling clouds until the curtain of raindrops and mist parted, and they broke into the clear.
Sami tapped on the console screen and remarked to Bianca, “This course will take us close to Stinger One’s transponder, do you want me to head for it, or the Celeste?”
Dason leaned forward and commented, “You know, it’s possible that someone made it back to the ship but can’t communicate.”
Bianca scanned the glowing screen before giving a sharp nod to Sami. “Do it,” she ordered.
Nearing Stinger One’s position, Sami powered the craft down until they glided just above the treetops. The interwoven carpet of leaves ranged in color from dark green to a vibrant purple.
Dason could make out little flickers of movement in the vegetation as if small flying creatures darted in and out of the treetops. A few times, he could see branches stir either from the wind or perhaps from something large that moved unseen among the leafy tree limbs.
A short while later, Sami had their vessel hovering over Stinger One which sat in a small clearing surrounded by thickets of oversized trees.
At first glance, the ship appeared undamaged and normal. For a few seconds, Bianca surveyed the scene before she turned to Sami and ordered, “Set us down.”
Sami eased the craft downward until it settled on its landing pods. Bianca turned to Dason and Sami. “You two stay here. Keep the ship powered up and be ready to power out of here as soon as Anyar and I are back.”
With that, she and the young outlaw went through the airlock and sprinted to the other scouter.
Dason sat next to Sami, keeping vigilant watch, aware that someone or some “thing” had attacked the Stinger One crew very near here. But what?
Sami settled back in the pilot’s seat and folded his arms while he gazed at the other scouter. “You know; the other craft won’t rendezvous for several minutes. We could bug out of here real easy like and make for that scout distress call. With a head start, they’d never catch us.”
Dason’s eyes flicked toward the flight panel. Sami was right. The other scouters would have a hard time catching them in their escape.
The appeal of grabbing the controls, powering the ship up for a quick getaway from Bianca and her henchmen was almost overwhelming.
He once again thought of the poison in his body; the only thing standing between him and death was the inhibitor. Soon its potency would wane, and the T-Ape’s venom would begin to eat away at his organs, his tissues.
His mind.
And soon after that, an agonizing, torturous slide into death.
Each passing second was one less remaining of his precious time. And now, if something had happened to the Queen, each second was even more valuable.
His breath and heartbeat came faster while he wrestled with his personal demon. He didn’t have a death wish; he didn’t want to die. His fingers moved to where they touched the control panel.
It would be so easy to slide a hand across the power up pad, lift the ship and make for that scout transport.
A gentle thought entered his chaotic thinking. I will safeguard the lives of my teammates, holding their lives as sacrosanct as I do my own.
As a cool, gentle wind, it flowed through him, pressing down the fires of temptation.
Like a drowning man will seize anything that would keep him afloat for even a few seconds more of life, he grabbed the thought to hold tight and push away his other darker, more desperate self-serving thoughts.
He took several deep breaths before he answered Sami in a low voice, “I want to Sami, believe me, but I—we can’t.”
Sami scrutinized Dason’s face. “You thinking of—”
“Nase, TJ, and Shanon,” Dason replied. “We leave and who knows what that bunch of renegades would do to them, but it wouldn’t be good. No, we stay together.”
He met Sami’s eyes in a frank stare. “That’s what teammates do, stay together.”
Sami scratched at his chin, looked out the window and remarked, “You think real good, amigo. Besides, we lost our chance, here they come.”
With quick steps, Bianca and Anyar hurried through the airlock and into the ship. In clipped tones, Bianca said to Dason and Sami, “She’s empty. Raise ship and make for the Celeste beacon.”
While Sami piloted the craft up and over the trees toward the presumed crash site, Dason asked, “See anything that would indicate what happened?”
Bianca shook her head in answer. “No. All systems operational, everything in working order, nothing amiss.”
She called out over her shoulder. “Anyar, make sure the sky watch is ready to go. At some point, we’re going to need to set it up. We might not be able to communicate with the Queen, but maybe the tracker will tell us if she’s still in orbit.”
“On it,” Anyar replied and hustled back to the cargo hold hatch. Though puzzled, Dason didn’t say anything about the fact that Bianca’s gang had such a piece of equipment in their possession.
Used by Imperium forces, such as the Star Scouts, the sky watch’s primary purpose was to be a backup when onboard sensor systems became inoperative.
Not only was the equipment sophisticated but it required a certain level of training and expertise to operate, which apparently this band of renegades possessed.
Sami guided the ship into a glide just above the tree’s canopy. “Coming up on the locator beacon that Stinger One left behind.”
Dason half-rose out of his seat and pressed his forehead up against the sylcron window in an attempt to get a better view. Sami slowed the scouter down even more, using his belly thrusters to float them over the treetops.
Scanning back and forth, Dason tried to find any trace of the downed ship. His eyes caught something just to the left. “There!” he called out. “At our nine o’clock.”
“Got it!” Sami snapped and side-slipped the small craft toward a dark slash in the otherwise unbroken multicolored canopy. Sami hovered the vessel while Dason and Bianca peered through the intertwined tree branches.
“What can you make out?” Bianca asked.
“Looks like a vessel, but it’s hard to see,” Dason replied. “The forest doesn’t let much light in.”
“See any movement? Any sign of our people?”
“No,” Dason responded with a touch of frustration. “Nothing.”
Bianca reached into a small compartment next to her and brought out a pair of high-powered scopes. With the headset in place, she slapped the magnifiers down and examined the crashed ship for some time.
Without a word, she rose from her seat and went aft.
Though Bianca’s face was expressionless, nevertheless, Dason had the feeling that she had seen something very disturbing about the Celeste. Reaching the cargo hatch, she
called Anyar up to the main deck.
Together, they stood at the compartment’s rear, gazing out the port window and discussing what lay below in quiet and hushed tones.
Their actions caused Dason to reexamine the craft closer. “Sami,” he said in a soft tone, not wanting Bianca to hear, “ease us forward a meter or two.”
Sami gave his thruster control a gentle tap that nudged the ship forward.
The new position gave Dason a little better visual angle on the downed vessel. He leaned forward to study the spacecraft from his new viewpoint.
With narrowed eyes, he peered at the downed craft and whispered to Sami, “Do you see anything different about the Celeste?”
Sami leaned over and scanned below for several seconds before he replied, “Nah, not really. But what do I know about rich people’s space toys, other than rich people play with them, of course.”
“I know what you mean,” Dason responded. “But still, its shape seems a little familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on what.”
Sami looked up and grunted, “Company’s arriving.” He called over his shoulder to Bianca, “Stinger craft inbound.”
Dason peered up to see three specks, like tiny buzzing insects heading toward them.
“Stinger craft,” Bianca ordered over her communicator, “spread out in a three-sixty search pattern using the Stinger One beacon as your center point. Try to locate our team from the air. Keep transmitting, as well.”
Dason turned and asked sharply, “Aren’t we going down there to look?”
“No,” she returned.
“But Nase is down there! I can easily rappel—”
“I said no,” Bianca replied in a blunt, authoritative tone. “We’ve lost contact with our support ship, we’re losing daylight, we’re on unfamiliar ground, and we have no idea what’s waiting for us down there.
“At the right time, of my choosing, we’ll do a ground search, but now is not the time.”
Dason sat back, ears burning, his jaw clenched tight from the fact that Bianca wouldn’t let him go after Nase.
He couldn’t understand why she didn’t have all the craft land and set out on a rescue mission. The tree growth was so thick in this area that there was scant chance they would see anything from the air, even at treetop heights.