Galen's Way: A Starquest 4th Age Adventure

by Richard Paolinelli

  “People can be talked into doing many things that run counter to their self-interests,” Eldereef pointed out, “especially if they can be sufficiently frightened, or outraged enough first, to believe anything they are told.”

  “I wish I could disagree with you on that point,” Napat admitted.

  “Building up his military has got to be the key to this. What else could he intend to do with it? An attack against any other world would be met with a devastating response by the Bata’vans. The only chance he has is to neutralize them first, either by replacing the Chancellor or by eliminating the position so that the Bata’vans would not be activated by anyone at all.”

  Napat suddenly stood up and began pacing the room.

  “I can’t believe Iodocus is behind this insanity,” he exclaimed. “He’ll trigger a war, cause the deaths of who knows how many people and all for some long-shot bid to become Emperor? The survivors of such folly would rise up and slay him before he fashioned the crown to rest on his head.

  “And the most maddening part of all?” he asked, suddenly halting his pacing. “We can’t prove any of this right now, can we?”

  “No, we can’t,” Eldereef confirmed.

  “So if I walk over to the Senate and make these accusations against him,” Napat resumed pacing, “I’ll get laughed out of the building about five minutes before they unanimously pass the no-confidence vote against me without bothering to go into session first.”

  “That would be the most likely outcome.”

  Napat felt the walls of the trap closing in on him and could see no clear path out. He stopped and looked out the large window behind his desk, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “I’m going to order the Bata’vans to keep close tabs on any Salacian military movement,” he finally broke the long silence.

  “On what grounds?”

  “Classified information that suggests the Salacian fleet may be preparing to mobilize against another planet without legal justification,” Napat replied. “The surveillance will be clandestine, a small group of spy ships only. Maybe one of them will uncover something we can use in the Senate.”

  “That could easily blow up in your face, Apam, especially if Iodocus gets wind of it. You’d be handing him a huge cudgel to use against you.”

  “It’s a risk I must take,” Napat replied. “In the meantime, redouble your efforts. Pay whatever bribes you must but find me something I can take to the Senate and put an end to this insanity.”

  “There is one other option to consider,” Eldereef said cautiously.

  “And that is?”

  “Iodocus is the threat, this much is clear,” Eldereef paused. “If he were ‘removed’ from the board…”

  Assassinated. The unspoken word hung in the air between the two men like a foul odor. Napat finally shook his head.

  “I am not quite ready to countenance such an act,” he said firmly, but even he heard the unspoken, yet, in his denial.

  Eldereef said nothing, merely rose from his chair, gave a half bow and departed. Napat turned back to the window and fixed his gaze on the Senate building once again and wondered if he would ever reach a point where he would sanction murder to save his Chancellorship.

  In his heart, he feared what the answer might be.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The two-day hop from Cukier back to Salacia was pleasantly uneventful. Fearing any messages back home could be intercepted, Harmool could not send word back to his King that Dwyn had taken the job. Not wanting to draw any undue attention to his mission was why he was riding in a cramped freighter instead of a well-stocked diplomatic shuttle.

  Being cooped up in a small cabin for two days in each direction was not a pleasant experience. But, given what was on the line, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He’d told the crew upon boarding not to disturb him for any reason, tending to their task of getting him to his destination and then back home again was their lone concern.

  Seated on the edge of his bunk, which doubled in service as a chair for the tiny desk that jutted out of the wall, Harmool examined the chip he’d shown Dwyn. It was blank of course, his claim of an addition twenty million was a bald-faced lie meant only to ensure Dwyn’s acceptance of the task and his full effort in attempting to complete it. He was unconcerned that the deception would be discovered as he seriously doubted he’d ever see Dwyn or the Princess alive again.

  He did wonder though if he’d overpriced himself in the matter. Perhaps Dwyn would have taken the job for a mere five million up front with the promise of another ten upon its successful completion? He rather hated to waste that much currency. At length, he surrendered to the logic of the situation: The ten million was gone, and there simply was no chance of getting it back. Besides, he had to make sure Dwyn would take the job. The extra five million had been an insurance policy of sorts in that respect, and it had paid off.

  A message flared on the overhead monitor announcing they had reached orbit above Salacia and would be landing at the Palace inside of an hour. He acknowledged the message and sat back on the bed. What few belongings he had brought along with him was already packed and ready to go.

  After the dreary dampness of the mostly water world of Cukier, sandwiched between suffering days of the cold metal of this flying cage, he was eager to set foot once again on warm Salacia. A verdant world full of life, air of such purity as to have no equal anywhere else and its waters sensibly contained within small seas, a thousand lakes and a few mighty rivers. Why anyone would chose to live anywhere but Salacia defied any logical explanation.

  He thought of eating something, but he’d already had his fill of the garbage they served on this wreck. He could wait just a little while longer and savor a good Salacian meal. Then he could brief his King on the pending rescue attempt of the Princess Rhiannon. Which, according to Dwyn’s own estimate, would likely take place in just five days from now.

  Five days, he thought with a very satisfied smile, and then things were going to get very interesting indeed.

  * * * * *

  “Harmool,” King Iodocus beckoned to his Chamberlain upon seeing him. “Come join us, man, you look exhausted.”

  “Tired, yes, Majesties,” Harmool bowed to his King and Queen, who were breakfasting in the dining hall. Not far away, having already breakfasted, several Royal advisers stood by should their services be needed by the King. Harmool had stopped briefly in the kitchen for a small breakfast before continuing on to make his report. “But very satisfied with how my trip played out.”

  “He has taken the task?” Queen Darieann asked.

  “He has,” Harmool confirmed. “He will make his attempt on Nammu in a few days.”

  “And you are certain he is the best man for the job?” Iodocus looked doubtful. “I know he is a mercenary of some repute, but shouldn’t we have selected one of our own men?”

  “He is as ruthless as any other ten mercs combined, sire,” Harmool assured. “He is also the only one I know of that was trained by the Bata’vans. It is said he would have easily risen to the rank of General had he remained in their service. He was the perfect choice to mount the rescue attempt and retrieve our stolen Princess. He will also make sure this Vedastus troubles your Majesties no longer.”

  “The abductor contacted us once again only yesterday,” the King confided. “I asked for proof of life of course, before I would discuss terms.”

  “And was it provided?”

  “Yes. The Princess spoke but briefly,” Iodocus replied, “but enough for us to confirm that it was her. We informed her captor that we would make the ransom payment in one week. He will contact us again with the rendezvous point to drop off the ransom and retrieve Rhiannon.”

  “Assuming he intends to return her after the ransom has been paid,” Harmool added.

  “It is a risk we must take, especially if your mercenary fails in his task,” the King replied. “There has been one other development since you’ve been away.”

  “O
h?”

  “We were contacted by Ellaneiri of Caletos, K’laine of Axaltier, and Lonshanks of Y’pslandi,” the King answered a little more loudly than Harmool normally would have liked. Who knew whose ears would hear this information and who, and where, they would share it. “It seems their daughters have also been abducted with ransom demands of five million aurox slips each.”

  “Someone is looking to become very rich,” Harmool remarked. Not quite so loudly. “Or, perhaps looking to stir up a lot of trouble.”

  “Or both possibly,” the King stated. “And I can think of only one person who would dare kidnap the daughters of the rulers of four Alliance worlds and have the resources to pull it off.”

  “My husband,” the Queen interjected quietly, “is about to accuse Chancellor Napat once again, my dear Harmool. Why would he ask for such a paltry sum when he knows all four of you could pay a hundred times that amount and not miss it from the respective treasuries? Why would he even resort to such a crime at all?”

  “Because he believes that I am behind the push for a No Confidence vote in the Senate and wants to head it off,” the King replied shortly.

  “That is a reasonable conclusion, Sire,” Harmool agreed. “When the Princess is returned to us perhaps she will bring the evidence we need to substantiate your charge against the Chancellor in the Senate.”

  “Right now,” the Queen said, “my only concern is the safety of my only child. Politics be damned, I want my daughter home, safe and in my arms.”

  “Of course, my lady,” Harmool bowed quickly. “That is my highest priority as well. Only then will I turn my attention to seeing that whoever is responsible for this outrage gets everything that they deserve."

  He turned to leave but pulled up suddenly as a thought struck him. He turned back to Iodocus.

  “My lord,” he began. “When you spoke with the others regarding their daughters, did they share any of the details of their abductions?”

  “No they did not. Why do you ask?”

  “I was wondering if there were any similarities to the abduction of our own Princess? She was on her way to the conference on Scathiticus and was abducted somewhere in between their spaceport and the conference hall there. I would very much like to know if the other three were also en route to that same conference?”

  “Why does that matter?” the Queen asked.

  “Scathiticus is a key ally of the Chancellor,” he replied. “If they in any way aided in the abductions it would bolster his Highness’ suspicions that the abductions were for political gain, not for profit, and that Napat clearly initiated them.”

  “I will send messages to all three asking for the details,” the King promised. “You will have you answer before nightfall.”

  “Sire,” Harmool added carefully, “I would also caution against mentioning our pending rescue attempt. If what we suspect is true, there is a very good chance that all four abductees are being held in the same location. If so, Dwyn will recover all four of them and bring them back. A successful recovery would have all three worlds indebted to us and they would be key allies against Napat.

  “But,’ he continued, “should the attempt fail, and our involvement were known, they would instead be key allies of Napat’s and put us in a very untenable position with the rest of the Alliance.”

  “I see your point,” the King conceded. “Very well, I will not share this information with them."

  “There is an added benefit, should the rescue attempt fail, though we all hope it succeeds, of course,” Harmool said slyly. “With the involvement of a former Bata’van turned mercenary, Napat would be suspected of trying a foolish rescue attempt that led to their deaths when the four worlds were prepared to pay the ransom for the safe return of the women. He would be severely damaged politically.”

  “We prefer the safe return of our daughter, Harmool.”

  “As do we all, sire, but we must be ready for all possibilities.”

  “Of course. When did you say the rescue will be attempted?”

  “In less than five days, sire.”

  “Very well. We will wait and pray this mercenary is as good as he is advertised to be,” the King waved a hand of dismissal to Harmool. “But in the meantime, Harmool, you will turn over every stone until you find the evidence that proves Napat is behind these abductions.

  “When you do, and my daughter is home once again,” the King stood up and swept the room with an angry glare that seemed to summon an ominous cloud to hang over the room. “I will take that evidence to the Senate and have that madman thrown out of office,” the King promised. “And if my daughter does not survive the attempt, I will hang that man from the ceiling of the Senate’s Grand Chamber with my own two hands.”

  “I will not fail you, my lord,” Harmool promised, already envisioning Apam Napat’s corpse swinging from the end of the rope over the collected representatives of the Alliance. He waited until he had bowed once more and turned to leave the hall before he allowed the smile to form on his face.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Nammu had once been a ringed world, the material that should have formed its lone moon had never coalesced into a single body. Instead of a satellite, the various rocks, dust and debris had formed a ring around the planet’s equator and had remained that way for millions of cycles.

  Until Dunstan Vedastus had stumbled across the planet. It was perfectly suited for someone in his line of work: An uninhabited water world in an uninhabited system with only one small land mass above the surface, well off the beaten path to discourage prying eyes. It was the perfect base for his smuggling operations, and he’d spent the better part of three years rearranging the ring, drawing in any loose object in the system that he could put a tractor on, until the entire planet was englobed in an impenetrable shell of rock.

  A series of sensors and mines were seeded within making Nammu one of the most shielded worlds in the Alliance. From the outside, the occasional blink of the blue atmosphere was all that could be seen of the planet. Any uninvited guest that tried to run the gauntlet of the lone path through the shield, or just tried to brazen their way through the field itself, only ended up as more debris in the field. Vedastus, snug in his castle carved out of the granite mountain that towered above the water below, was literally untouchable. Even a madman would pause before considering an assault on Nammu.

  A madman might pause, but not Galen Dwyn.

  Vedastus had been hiding in complete comfort on Nammu for over a year now since the ill-fated attempt to ambush Dwyn that had resulted in Dragonsong’s death.

  Dwyn, sitting in the pilot’s seat of the Tempest, watched the blinking blue that peeked out between the tumbling rocks. The ship was slowly tumbling toward Nammu, acting very much like just another wandering asteroid. The ship was powered down to its minimum needs so it would not trip any of the sensors and activate Nammu’s defenses. Dwyn’s plan was to make the slow approach, using the atmospheric thrusters in very brief bursts once among the asteroids to maneuver through. If the Tempest picked its way through without tripping the mines, she could glide down toward the surface and approach Vedastus’ keep unnoticed.

  He’d arrived two days ahead of schedule, in case someone talked to the wrong set of ears and had tipped off his enemy. The element of surprise was vital to his success here. If he lost that he’d never live to spend the rest of that ten million he’d collected on Cukier.

  “You could get me killed with this little stunt of yours you know,” Cassandra pouted.

  “Not likely,” Galen replied, tracking his ship’s progress at it approached the planet. Cassandra often tended to think that the ship was her actual body. “Your central core is heavily shielded. Even if the ship breaks apart, you’ll be just fine. Maybe you’ll even end up inside a nice passenger liner in the inner systems.”

  “Hmpf,” she sounded unconvinced. “I’d rather be dead. Would you like to know the odds of you getting this ship through that maze ahead in one piece?”

  �
�I already know,” he replied. “It’s fifty-fifty. Either we make it through, or we don’t. Now be quiet so I can concentrate on what I’m doing.”

  The Tempest sailed toward the outer edge of the barrier with Galen slightly nudging the ship with the thrusters. He was aiming for a promising-looking gap while trying not to adjust the ship’s course too much and attract the attention of the sensor net ahead. Her main cigar-shaped fuselage, painted space black, was nearly three hundred feet from bow to stern and a tenth of that in width at any point.

  But her engines, attached on short wings toward the rear on each side, added another twenty feet on each side to her width and another ten feet to her length. Unable to use her Nav sensors, Galen was literally flying his ship by the seat of his pants as it slipped into the field.

  “At this speed,” Cassandra announced uninvited, “I estimate fifteen minutes to pass through the barrier and enter the atmosphere. Assuming we don’t hit anything…like that rather ominously large rock that we’re flying right at as I speak.”

  “We’re not going to hit it,” Galen replied. “We’re going to miss it just enough to miss that other very ominously large boulder coming up on the right.”

  Slipping by the first obstacle with a full meter to spare, Galen lightly tapped the thrusters twice, all he dared use in such a short interval lest the defense grid take notice, and waited as his ship headed straight for the second rock.

  “Galen…” Cassandra warned.

  “We’re going to be fine,” he assured, watching the tumble rate of the rock. He wouldn’t have wanted to have placed a piece of paper between it and his ship when they passed each other. He was sure the page would be marked on both sides if it had been there after they went by, but pass they did, and without contact.

  “See, what did I tell yo…” Galen stopped as his ship reverberated from contact with a small object, about the size of a marble.

  “Ouch!” Cassandra called out in faux pain. “That hurt!”