Galen's Way: A Starquest 4th Age Adventure

by Richard Paolinelli

  “She’ll be more than welcome to go in the back and do her own shopping for that when she wakes up,” Galen said as he laid the garments on the table next to the bunk.

  The tank had been drained of the fluid and warm flowing air began drying off the sleeper. Galen cracked open the pod and attached a medical bracelet to her left wrist. A thick, milky white liquid flowed through the tube into the bracelet and then into the vein at the wrist, pumping in the meds needed to clear her body of the chemicals keeping her unconscious.

  He made quick work of the Jakamal headset, pulling it off as gently as he could and then discarding it into the ship’s refuse processor. He set it to reduce the device to its atoms. The contacts had left red marks where applied. Those physical scars would fade and heal in time. The injuries to her memories on the other hand? She would need time and the kind of help he could not provide her to recover from those.

  When the treatment concluded, he unhooked the tube from the bracelet. He carefully lifted her out of the compartment and carried her into the pilot’s cabin. She felt unnaturally warm, a side effect of the chemical reactions in her blood, and he tried to ignore where their bodies made contact as well as keeping his eyes straight ahead.

  “Usually the bride is awake when she’s being carried across the threshold.”

  “Cass, I will personally hook you up to a garbage scow’s refuse processor if you so much as utter one more syllable,” he growled.

  Galen laid the Princess on the bunk in a sitting position and managed to remove the gossamer slip without too much trouble. Getting the red negligée on had proved to be more of a challenge. Especially when she tossed her arm around his neck, leaned her head and torso into his chest, mumbled something unintelligible and then softly snored. At least, she won’t have any memory of this to deal with, he thought as he laid her back onto the bunk and then draped the blanket over her.

  She’d be out for at least a day while her body flushed out all the meds pumping through her bloodstream. He turned the light setting to low and closed the cabin hatch behind him, leaving it unlocked so she could easily exit after she woke up. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do when she did awaken. He was pretty sure that she wasn’t going to like any of it when she heard it. He crossed over to the Captain’s cabin and wearily stretched out on his bunk. Now maybe he could get a good night’s sleep.

  “Good night, Galen,” Cassandra said softly from an overhead speaker.

  “Good night, Cass.”

  “Sweet dreams,” she giggled and closed the connection.

  A garbage scow’s refuse processor, he thought as he stared up at the ceiling. No, he decided, that just wouldn’t be suitable punishment enough.

  He fell asleep thinking of his options regarding his passenger, what he was going to do about her, and the situation they currently found themselves in. His subconscious, however, appeared to be in league with his AI. As soon as he fell asleep, his dreams were inhabited by a woman in red with flowing, dark brown hair.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Yes, what is it,” Harmool asked at the knock on his office door. An aide opened it and stepped inside smartly.

  “Sir, the commander of the recon mission is on the line.”

  “Thank you, Piter. Patch the call to my monitor.”

  Harmool turned to the monitor and waited a few seconds until it lit up as the call was routed in.

  “Oheim,” he greeted the uniformed man on the screen. “What word do you bring me?”

  “Complete destruction on Nammu, sir,” Oheim reported gravely. “It looks like the destruction on the surface triggered the entire mine field in orbit. It took us a lot of time to work our way through the scattered asteroids to actually get to the planet itself.

  “As for Vedastus’ hideout,” he continued, “what didn’t explode when the charges were set off was destroyed by the bombardment of meteorites from above. There’s nothing left down there but rubble.”

  “Any trace of the Princess Rhiannon?”

  “We cannot locate a body to recover but our scanners found some DNA traces,” Oheim replied sadly. “Four women and two men. We have confirmed the Princess was one of the women as well as the identities of the other three. Vedastus’ DNA was confirmed as well. Not that there was much left. Our planetary scans picked up nothing and we only found the traces once we got to the surface. Sir, nothing survived the destruction down there.”

  “And the second man?”

  “It traces back to a merc named Galen Dwyn,” Oheim reported. “He’s an ex-Bata’van, sir. It seems your suspicions were correct.”

  “Yes, I am sad to say that I have to agree,” Harmool agreed with fake sincerity. “Collect what evidence you can, Oheim, and transmit it to me as soon as possible. I will inform their Majesties that their daughter is lost to them forever. Oheim, you will maintain ultimate secrecy until told otherwise.”

  “Of course, sir. We will await further orders. Out.”

  Harmool waited to make sure the connection was cut, looked to make sure the door was firmly closed, and then leaned back and allowed himself a smile and a laugh of pure satisfaction.

  He wasn’t surprised to hear that Vedastus had died on Nammu. The man was supposed to evacuate the planet before Dwyn’s arrival. Given Dwyn’s reputation, Harmool surmised, he’d undoubtedly arrived ahead of schedule and caught Vedastus off his guard and completely unprepared. The blundering fool likely panicked, triggered the field charges and set off his own mines, killing everyone on the planet instantly.

  He saved me the trouble of having to kill him myself, Harmool thought as he rose from behind his desk. Not a bad return of investment on ten million aurox bars.

  The twenty million he’d paid Vedastus had been as phony as his offer to pay an additional eighty million bars of course. The idiot hadn’t even bothered to check. Dwyn however, he knew, would check. That ten million was real but that particular loss was more than worth it.

  He slipped unseen out of his office through the private entrance and quickly made his way down the empty hall. At the other end, he opened the only other door in the hall and stepped into the King’s chamber where Iodocus conducted most of his daily business.

  Several aides were gathered around a table, discussing plans for an extension to the castle. Iodocus was seated at the table, looking incredibly bored. When he spotted Harmool, he quickly dismissed his aides and ordered the room cleared.

  “You have news of my daughter?”

  “I do, my lord,” Harmool said gravely as he stepped to his King’s side. Iodocus rose from his seat and looked his aide in the eye. “The Princess Rhiannon, along with the other three hostages, have been killed on Nammu where they were being held.”

  “And the mercenary?”

  “He too died there,” Harmool confirmed.

  “We have evidence of this?”

  “It is being sent to me as we speak, sire. I expect that within a week, no more than two at the most, you will be standing in the Senate demanding Napat’s resignation to the sound of a unanimous ovation.”

  Iodocus stared at his aide for a long moment, then clapped his hands on the Harmool’s shoulders and grinned broadly.

  “Excellent work, my friend,” Iodocus exclaimed, laughing in pleasure. “You have pulled it all off exactly as planned!”

  “Thank you, sire,” Harmool bowed as much as he could while still within Iodocus’ grasp. “I must admit, I was concerned something would go wrong…”

  “Nonsense! You have all but assured that Napat will be removed as Chancellor. As a grieving father, victim of a foul political plot, the Senate will install me as Chancellor. Once we have the Bata’van under our control, no one will stand in the way of my declaring myself Emperor.

  “I will not forget you, of course,” the King continued. “You will have your pick of any system you wish to rule, subject of course to my throne.”

  “Of course, sire,” Harmool agreed. Not that you’ll sit on that throne too long, he th
ought to himself. Why settle for a system when the entire galaxy was there for the taking?

  “I’ll have to inform my wife of the loss of our child and then our own people, of course,” Iodocus said, sobering slightly. “But first, I think it is time to inform Caletos, Axaltier and Y’pslandi of their tragic losses. With their voices behind me, Napat will not stand a chance.”

  “Indeed, sire,” Harmool agreed, following his king to the communications tower where he would contact the other three rulers.

  * * * * *

  “I cannot tell you how much that it saddens me to be the bearer of such ill news,” Iodocus said, looking mournfully at the visage of Pepin Ellaneiri on the screen. “My security forces received a tip that our daughters were being held on Nammu. We dispatched a team to rescue them but when they arrived, Nammu had been completely devastated.

  “We’ve confirmed your daughter, as well as mine,” Iodocus continued, “along with two others were on the planet when the catastrophe struck. We can take some solace in the fact that their two kidnappers died with them.”

  “You’re telling me that my daughter was killed on Nammu?” Ellaneiri asked, looking doubtful.

  “Yes, along with my own daughter,” Iodocus affected the look of a devastated father. “We think the two kidnappers began arguing over some matter and triggered the planet’s defenses. Nothing could have survived that.”

  “Who did this?”

  “Galen Dwyn and Dunstan Vedastus were their names,” Iodocus replied. “They were known smugglers. Vedastus owned all of Nammu and had turned it into a fortress. Dwyn, on the other hand, is a suspicious character.”

  “In what way?”

  “He’s a merc and was once in the Bata’van, Pepin,” Iodocus explained. “You know what that combination almost always means. He was one of Napat’s Special Service.”

  “Are you saying the Chancellor was behind this?” Ellaneiri looked shocked. “Why?”

  “He no doubt was going to blackmail us into backing him at the Senate,” Iodocus explained. “He has to know a no-confidence vote is coming and that it certainly will not go well for him. If he could get the four of us to support him, it would turn the tide.”

  “But to commit murder…”

  “I doubt he intended to kill them,” Iodocus explained. “But something went wrong, and our daughters are dead because of Napat. We will hold the one responsible for their deaths to account, Pepin.”

  “Yes,” Ellaneiri nodded in agreement. “We will definitely see to it that the man responsible for my daughter’s death gets exactly what he deserves. Thank you for calling me, Iodocus.”

  “I only wish I had brought happier news, my friend. Now, I must tell two more fathers that they have lost a child.”

  The screen faded to black as Ellaneiri cut the connection on his end.

  “Well, that couldn’t have gone better,” Iodocus said, rubbing his hands together. “Once we’ve informed K’Laine and Lonshanks and get them behind us things should move along rather quickly I think.”

  “Indeed, sire,” Harmool handed a sheet of paper to his king. “We have prepared an official statement informing the Alliance of the deaths of Rhiannon and the other three women. It accuses Napat without actually coming out and saying it directly of course.”

  “Exquisite,” Iodocus replied as he read it. “This should all but wrap things up nicely. Let’s speak with the others and then I must give our Queen the sad news. Then I address the people, and when I am through speaking, they will call for Napat’s head on a spike, Harmool, just wait and see.”

  * * * * *

  Ellaneiri watched the screen go dark in quiet shock. Ever since news of his daughter’s kidnapping had reached him, the robust man who ordinarily looked twenty cycles younger than his actual age, had started aging very quickly. He looked drawn and pale as he stood up and turned away from the monitor. He looked over at his advisors, who’d heard the entire conversation, and sadly shook his head.

  “I would not have believed it possible,” he said softly. “Such deceit. Such treachery…” he paused, and visibly shook himself.

  “My daughter?” he asked his chief aide.

  “The ship bringing her home will arrive tomorrow evening,” she replied. “She is alive and well according to the doctor. She is still within the sleep pod until they finish extracting… the unpleasant memories… but she should be out and awake by the time they arrive in orbit.”

  Ellaneiri could only imagine what nightmares his daughter had been exposed to.

  “But, she lives?” he asked again, certain he would keep on asking until the moment he held her in his arms again and could confirm it with his own eyes.

  “She lives,” the aide assured him. “It was for the best that the doctors went into the locker first. It saved her, and the security team, some embarrassment. We can thank her mysterious rescuer for that warning as well as for returning her to you, First Prime.”

  “Her kidnapper is the man who will contact you to tell you that she was killed on Nammu,” Ellaneiri said softly.

  “That is what our friend said,” the aide agreed.

  “Galen Dwyn,” he said aloud.

  “Sir?”

  “Galen Dwyn,” he repeated, coming to a sudden realization. “Our friend must be Dwyn, and somehow he tricked Iodocus’ people into thinking he perished in the blast along with the abductees. Vedastus is a known smuggler, and his fortress on Nammu was no secret. He also worked alone, that’s what the report on Vedastus said. Dwyn said he was paid to retrieve something from Nammu when he discovered my daughter. He likely discovered the other women as well.

  “Send messages out to Axaltier and Y’pslandi,” he ordered. “I want to talk with K’Laine and Lonshanks as soon as they’ve heard from Salacia. Find out if they received the same message and a returned item from our mysterious friend as we did.”

  “At once, sir,” she nodded in the direction of a staffer, who left to follow the order.

  “I want every scrap of information we can find on this Galen Dwyn,” Ellaneiri added. “I want to know if he is lying to me after all, and if he is the type that would lose his nerve and try to return my daughter free of charge to mitigate my wrath.”

  “And if he isn’t?”

  “Then he’s out there somewhere with the Princess Rhiannon, and it would appear he hasn’t let Iodocus know that the Princess still lives,” Ellaneiri explained. “I want to know why this is so and what in the eighth hell he’s up to out there. And exactly how we can help him do it.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rhiannon’s eyes fluttered open, and she quickly discovered she was in a place that she had no memory of having been in before. Her head felt heavy, and her throat was dry. When she tried to speak, all that came out was a rasping croak. It was enough to cause the lights to brighten, giving her a better look at the room.

  Barren, save the bed she was currently laying on and two tables. A dress and sandals were laid out on the larger table, evidently for her to wear although she knew she owned no such dress. Her eyes fell on the small side table. More exactly, on the pitcher and a tall glass on top of the table with a hand written note: Drink as much as you can, you need it.

  She reached over and poured herself a glass and cautiously sipped the clear liquid. It was deliciously cold water! She drained the glass and another after that and immediately felt much better. She realized now that she was on a ship in space. Frequent travelers invariably picked up the ability to discern the difference between travel in a vacuum and that being done within a planetary atmosphere.

  What frightened her was that she had no memory of getting aboard a ship recently. As she tried to pierce the fog that nagged at her memory, all she saw was the piggish face of a heavy set man who seemed to be looking at her from every conceivable angle. Her head began to throb, and she abandoned the effort

  She took another look at the dress then looked down at her current attire. It was another article of clothing she knew she had neve
r owned, and it was certainly a little more revealing than she preferred. She also had no memory of having putting it on.

  Deciding the blue dress was more suitable for exploring what was beyond the closed hatch, she slipped out of the negligée and into the dress and sandals. They both fit and at least the dress was slightly less revealing.

  Now fully-clothed, she cautiously opened the hatch and looked around before stepping out onto the deck. She spied the opened sleep pod and wondered if she’d been in it? Had she been injured and put into hibernation until the damage could be repaired? She tried to remember but all that floated up was that piggish face. A memory whipped by of a smaller reflection of that face next to the face in its full glory. It only confused her more.

  Had she been abducted, placed in this pod, and then removed for some sick purpose? She felt her skin crawl, and a knot of dread formed in the pit of her stomach. That had to be the explanation! She looked to the front of the ship and saw the top of a head peeking over the pilot’s chair.

  The pig man, she thought, and he is taking me somewhere to do more vile things to me!

  She made her way forward as quietly as she could, collecting a small metal tube along the way. It felt heavy enough to her to smash that pig face good. Then she would call for help, and if Pig Man so much as moved an inch she’d bash him again!

  She eased up behind him and raised the tube up high.

  “Cracking open the skull of the man who just rescued you from a fate worse than death is a very rude way to say thank you, Princess,” the man said as he slowly swiveled the chair around to face her. His hands rested easy on the armrests at his side, and he made no move to disarm her.

  His wasn’t the face of the Pig Man. That was a pale chubby face, full of malice and evil. The face of the man she was threatening was roguishly handsome, hawkish and olive-skinned and one that spoke of an iron will, of one not to be trifled with. Those blue eyes were cold and hard and yet at the same time, also soft and full of laughter. Laughing at her, she steamed suddenly, but she thought there was a hint of admiration in them, too. She had to shift her weight to keep the tube ready to swing at him if needed.