Galen's Way: A Starquest 4th Age Adventure

by Richard Paolinelli

  “You’ve been held in a sleep pod for at least three weeks,” he said gently. “You’ve spent the last day in a bunk dead to the galaxy while your body detoxed from that experience. You haven’t had a thing to eat during that entire time, surviving only on the fluids provided in the pod, and you’re about to fall flat on your face because you’re too weak to hold that tube up much longer.

  “Why don’t you put that down and sit over there,” he waved slightly at the other seat on the flight deck. “I’ll get you some food and explain what has happened to you as best as I can.”

  She stared at him, weaving slightly under the weight of the tube, not sure if she should trust him.

  “Or you can stand there until you fall on your ass,” he added. “Your call, Princess.”

  She finally yielded to the gravity of the situation, letting the tube clatter to the deck and wobbled over to the seat, exhausted.

  “I was certain you were going to have to shoot her before you’d be able to talk her into being sensible,” a woman’s voice appeared to speak out of thin air.

  “Who’s that?” she demanded, looking around for the disembodied voice.

  “That is Cassandra, the ship’s AI,” he explained as he got up out of his seat, picked up the discarded tube and returned it to its rightful place. He walked over to a panel on the deck and punched in a code. “And she has a bad habit of shooting off her vocal processors when she should be keeping her trap shut.”

  A slot in the panel opened, and he withdrew a tray of food. He brought the tray over and set it down next to her seat. Her stomach growled.

  “You need to eat everything on that tray,” he instructed. “How much of the water did you drink before you came out here to try to commit murder?”

  “Two glasses,” she replied, looking at, but not partaking of, the food no matter how much her stomach protested.

  “Good,” he replied, reclaiming his own seat. “That cup of juice will help balance your electrolytes. The food will help you regain your strength too, so eat. Now.”

  She made no move.

  “Princess,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “If my intent was to poison you, would I have bothered waking you up in the first place?”

  She had to admit he had a point, and her hunger finally won out. She started off with some fruit and then, suddenly ravenous, quickly cleared the plate.

  “That’s better,” he said, leaning back. “You had me worried there for a minute, Princess, I thought I was going to have to force feed you.”

  “I suppose I should thank you for the food and for rescuing me,” she said.

  “You should,” he agreed with those laughing eyes. “And you are most welcome.”

  “And for the clothes, too,” she added.

  “I told you she’d fill them out nicely,” Cassandra chimed in.

  “Your fashion designer,” he replied with a casual waive at the overhead speaker. “She picked them out.”

  “And the red negligée?”

  “That, too,” he nodded.

  “And did she dress me as well?”

  “Well,” he suddenly cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “That particular chore fell to me.”

  “Did it now?” she felt the heat in her cheeks.

  “I think you would agree it was better to wake up in that as opposed to what you were wearing when I found you,” he offered in defense “And you aren’t the first member of your sex that I’ve seen in the buff, Princess.”

  The Pig Man face swam into view for an instant, and her imagination filled in the rest, her blush deepened.

  “Well, you certainly saw all of me. I hope you enjoyed the show, Captain,” she stormed as she rose from her seat.

  “The name is Galen Dwyn,” he said, finally introducing himself before turning back to his controls. “And you should never let anyone say a bad word about your figure.”

  “Why you vulgar, disgusting…,” she cut off her rant when she realized he was laughing at her and stamped her foot. “How dare you laugh at me!” she stepped closer and hauled off and slapped him across the side of his face. He didn’t even bother to look up at her in response.

  Her tantrum only made him laugh a little louder.

  “I demand you take me home to my father, now!”

  That sobered him up.

  “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be a good idea, Princess,” he said evenly, finally turning to look at her. “For either of us.”

  “And why not?” she demanded hotly.

  “Because I was approached by a man named Adalwin Harmool…” he began.

  “My father’s chief aide,” she cut in.

  “Your father’s closest aide,” he continued. “To fly to Nammu and retrieve you from a man named Dunstan Vedastus, who was, allegedly, holding you for ransom.”

  “Which you’ve clearly done,” she said, shuddering at the knowledge of the Pig Man’s name. “So why won’t you take me home? I’m sure you were promised a lot of money in exchange for your services.”

  “I was paid a lot up front,” he admitted, “and promised much more if I delivered you back to Salacia alive and well.”

  “And now you want more money, is that it?” she was surprised by the flash of hurt that passed over his face at her accusation.

  “Cass,” he spoke to the air, “call up the recording of my meeting with Harmool.”

  “Are you sure, Galen?” Cassandra replied.

  “I am. She needs to see all of it.”

  “Okay, you’re the boss.”

  A screen lowered from the ceiling, and the recording of the meeting played.

  “So my father hired you to rescue me,” Rhiannon said when the recording ended.

  “Cass,” he replied. “Show her the recording from Nammu and start with the moment I stepped into the alcove where I found the Princess and her fellow captives.”

  “Your funeral,” Cassandra replied with a verbal shrug and spooled up the recording.

  “Freeze it there,” he commanded. On the screen, Rhiannon could see herself floating in the sleep pod, the little flimsy garment she was wearing left no doubt as to just how much of her had been visible.

  “Notice that headband that all of you all wearing?” he asked. “And the leads that run from each pod to that central console and the headset lying on the couch?

  “The device is called a Jakamal,” he continued. “The operator of that device can enter the mind of anyone connected on the other end and do…unspeakable things to his victims, and they’d be powerless to do anything about it.”

  She felt her skin crawling again and felt sick to her stomach.

  “Your father arranged to send you into the clutches of a man capable of doing this,” he continued. “Left you there to suffer that for weeks and arranged to have you killed when a rescue attempt arrived. Continue playback, Cass.”

  She sat in stunned silence as she heard Pig Man’s, Vedastus’, full confession. Dwyn suddenly called for the playback to stop.

  “You don’t need to see what happened to him,” Dwyn said simply. “You just need to know he’ll never be a threat to you again. Your father on the other hand… Cass, play the announcement from Salacia we picked up on the ‘Nets.”

  “Galen, don’t you think she’s had enough?”

  Rhiannon found herself agreeing. Bad enough it seemed like a hole had opened up underneath her and was threatening to collapse in upon her and crush her very soul. Was there really any more she needed to see?

  “Play it, Cass.”

  Her father appeared on the screen, announcing the kidnapping and death of his only child and blaming it on Chancellor Napat.

  “He doesn’t look like a grieving father to me, Princess,” Dwyn said quietly. “What does he look like to you?”

  He didn’t look drawn or haggard. There were no tears, nor any sign of pain in his eyes as he spoke of her. He looked, she suddenly realized, just like he did over a game board when he’d successfully executed a specially-craft
ed trap. He looked happy.

  The tears she’d been fighting back burst past her defenses. She leapt to her feet and dashed to the cabin. Slamming the hatch shut behind her, she threw herself onto the bunk and cried herself into a fitful sleep.

  * * * * *

  “Well, that was brutal,” Cassandra remarked after the echo of the slammed hatch died down.

  “She needed to know, Cass,” Galen replied as he stared at the closed hatch. “She needs to understand that going home to a father that wants her dead is not an option. It was the only way to get that through to her.”

  Cassandra remained unusually quiet as he continued his examination of that hatch. He’d found her temper amusing, he admitted, and admired her spirit. She would survive this, maybe not without some scars, but she was certainly strong enough where it counted. If she was smart enough, and clever enough, to understand that her best chance of staying alive was to stay far clear of Salacia she might live to be an old age.

  Suddenly, unbidden, the image of her floating in the tube back on Nammu flashed into his brain. There was nothing sexual about the thought, despite the skimpy attire she’d had on. If he disregarded the vile device on her head she had looked almost… angelic.

  With a visible shake, he cast away the image and that particular train of thought and returned his focus to the task at hand.

  “Time to Belisama?” he asked.

  “Three days at present speed and course, Galen,” Cassandra replied. “We could cut that down to one day by changing course and increasing speed.”

  “Hold present course and speed,” he ordered. “Right now we are presumed dead by the people who need to think that we’re exactly that. We’ll stay off the beaten path, Cass, and not attract any undue attention.”

  He got up and headed for his own cabin, physically tired and mentally exhausted. He wasn’t particularly proud of what he’d just done, even if he understood it absolutely had to be done. He paused at his own hatch, turned and approached hers. He raised a hand to knock on it then caught himself.

  What was he going to do, he thought, give her a hug? Lie to her and tell her it was all going to be alright? That the nightmares wouldn’t come, and the pain of being betrayed by her father would fade and be forgotten? Kiss her and… and what? he heard an accusing voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Cassandra’s though he knew it wasn’t hers. What exactly are your intentions beyond this hatch, Captain?

  “Galen,” this time it was really Cassandra.

  “Cass…”

  “I know, I know. Shut up.”

  “No,” he said with a sigh as he turned from the closed hatch. “Just wake me up in four hours. Good night.”

  “Good night, Galen,” she replied quietly and said nothing more.

  * * * * *

  On the other side of the closed hatch, tear-stained face half-buried in a pillow, a nightmare had taken hold of its occupant. She was caught in the middle of a triangle, the Pig Man, her father and her rescuer, all pulling on her with great force in opposite directions.

  A fourth force, dark and evil joined the tug of war, pulling her toward destruction as she screamed in terror. She screamed for someone to save her from this nightmare. But no one heard her cries, and no one came to her rescue.

  She screamed until finally, the dark force won out and dragged her down into the crushing abyss of oblivion. Trapped in an exhausted sleep, and the nightmares triggered by the effects of being exposed to the Jakamal, Rhiannon screamed aloud over and over. The soundproofing of the cabin kept her from being heard by Dwyn. Cassandra had turned off communications to the cabin to give the poor woman some privacy.

  It took two hours for the screams to fade away, and silence to return to the cabin.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “The fleet is coming together nicely,” Iodocus remarked as his skimmer sailed past the last ship in orbital dock above Salacia.

  “Indeed it is, sire,” Harmool agreed. “We have several task forces already deployed near strategic systems, hiding among the respective asteroid belts until they receive your signal to proceed.”

  “How much longer until the full Senate can meet for the vote against Napat?”

  “I have been told the opening session is scheduled for fourteen days from now,” Harmool replied. “The packet of ‘evidence’ that we have manufactured directly linking Napat to Vedastus for the kidnapping and to Galen Dwyn as the executioner will be ‘discovered’ by a reliable ‘Net reporter and released as a bombshell story the day before the session opens.”

  “A half of a lune,” Iodocus clapped his hands together in glee. “Then I enter the Senate chamber and call for that vote of no confidence in Napat. With fourteen days to let the peoples’ outrage build over the political kidnappings and deaths of four of his opponents’ daughters I can’t see how any world would side with him.”

  “Of that, there can be no doubt,” Harmool agreed. “Then, once the Senate has named you to replace Napat…”

  “Our ships move in and secure strategic targets,” Iodocus finished as the skimmer banked to re-enter the atmosphere for the return trip to the palace. “The rest of the systems will fall into line or be destroyed. I owe much to you, my friend, are you quite certain only one system will be payment enough?”

  “Isin will be more than sufficient, sire.”

  “I suppose it is at that,” Iodocus grinned. “A world that is at least ninety percent populated by women, and you a single man. You’ll have to work at finding time to rule I imagine.”

  “As I said, reward enough.”

  “I must admit, I had my doubts about that Vedastus character,” Iodocus changed the subject. “I agreed that his world was the perfect place to secure our stolen Princesses. But I was concerned that he’d actually be able to execute the trap when the moment came.”

  “He was the perfect choice, primarily for his fortress of course, as was Galen Dwyn,” Harmool replied. “I am most pleased that both men served us, however unknowingly, very well indeed.”

  “There is still one thing that concerns me,” Iodocus said as the skimmer turned on its final approach to the pad. “Why haven’t there been any formal announcements regarding the other three deaths? They still haven’t even officially acknowledged the kidnappings either. This silence makes no sense to me.”

  “I hope to have an answer to that question soon, sire. I have cultivated a network of native spies across the Alliance. I can say in all modesty that it rivals Eldereef’s own network of spies. I can’t, of course, contact them directly, for obvious reasons, but I have sent out an inquiries. We should have an answer very soon.”

  The skimmer settled down on the pad, the access hatch swung open and the ramp extended out and down to the ground.

  “Perhaps even sooner,” Iodocus remarked. “Isn’t that your spymaster running toward us now?”

  “It is indeed,” Harmool replied.

  Lian Gerstak was not a man given to running anywhere. Harmool felt a sudden shiver of dread run down his spine.

  “Sir,” Gerstak huffed as he skidded to a halt, thrusting out a single sheet of paper to his boss. The younger man must have run a great distance, Harmool observed, judging by the difficulty he was having catching his breath. He scanned the paper, sharply sucked in air, and read it again.

  “What is it?” Iodocus demanded. “What does it say?”

  “It is a report from our asset on Caletos, sire,” Harmool replied, reading the report for a third time, as if he hoped the text would change if he only just kept re-reading it.

  “Well, out with it man, what does he report?”

  “She, sire,” Harmool replied shakily. “She reports that Winsella Ellaneiri was spotted, very much alive and well, inside the official residence only two days ago. No one outside the residence is to know that she is there.”

  “The woman must be mistaken,” Iodocus tried to sound dismissive but Harmool heard the doubt in his voice.

  “Sir,” Gerstak produce a second
sheet for Harmool to read.

  “The report is confirmed by a second asset on Caletos, sire,” Harmool reported quietly as Iodocus’ faced flushed scarlet red.

  “Find out if the same is true on Axaltier and Y’pslandi, Harmool,” the angry King ordered through clenched teeth. “We need absolute confirmation that they are either dead or…”

  Iodocus’ voice trailed off as another aide ran out onto the pad with more papers clutched in his hand. Harmool dismissed Gerstak and met the approaching man halfway, scanned them quickly, and then looked up at his King. He didn’t need to say a word, it was written all over his face.

  “All three?” Iodocus roared. “All three are alive?”

  “So it would seem, sire,” Harmool said.

  “You said the scans showed they were all killed on Nammu.”

  “That is what the evidence seemed to indicate at the time.”

  “Seemed to indicate at the time,” he repeated. “And now?”

  “Now it would seem that we’ve been betrayed,” Harmool replied. “And there could only be one man responsible for the betrayal. Galen Dwyn.”

  “But why?” Iodocus asked. “If he got them off the planet before the explosion, why wouldn’t he return them all and claim his payment from us? Why hasn’t he brought Rhiannon home? He’s had plenty of time to do so, yet we’ve not received a single message from him.”

  “There can be only one explanation,” Harmool said. “That fool Vedastus talked. Dwyn must have surprised him before he was ready to blow the keep. A Bata’van would know how to pry information out of a reluctant man. I doubt Vedastus put up much of a struggle, probably thought he was saving his own skin by talking.

  “Dwyn bled him dry of information,” Harmool continued, “killed the man, loaded up the hostages and left. He’d set the charges to blow after he was safely away, of course. Obviously, he returned the other three women to their home worlds—no doubt receiving a handsome reward for each—shared the information he had with them and left.”

  “And what has he done with Rhiannon?”