Galen's Way: A Starquest 4th Age Adventure

by Richard Paolinelli

  Rhiannon had a sudden flash of their Galen, adorned in a suit of shining armor. Charging at a dark dragon with nothing but his sword.

  “After Underwood fell and the line was broken,” Lir continued his story, “the dark force drove toward Eden unchecked. Of course, Eden was gone long before it got there. The legend tells that the aliens left behind several devices somewhere here in our galaxy. The Armageddon Spheres were developed too late to spare the old galaxy, but should the dark force ever follow us here, the Spheres would serve as our best hope to kill it.”

  “Why didn’t they use it in the old galaxy?”

  “No one has the answer to that. Only theories,” Lir replied. “They weren’t certain the devices would work, and they had already expended all of their energy on getting us here. The devices were developed too late to save the old galaxy anyway so they were left here for us to use if needed. Or perhaps they feared using them at all, and left it up to us to decide if they should be used or not.”

  “What were they?”

  “The Spheres were placed next to a star,” Lir explained. “They drew on the energy of the star to power a terrible weapons array that instantly destroyed anything it touched. We really don’t know for sure because we’ve never seen one, and apparently there is no record of where the Spheres were placed all those cycles ago.”

  “Could this dark force still be alive after all this time?”

  “Who knows?” he asked rhetorically. “The last star in the old galaxy blinked out long ago. All we see in our telescopes is darkness. No light is emitted anywhere where the old galaxy should be. Perhaps, the foul beast starved with nothing else to consume or moved on to another galaxy instead.”

  She felt another chill, this one for the long dead galaxy in Lir’s story.

  “I will tell you this,” Lir said. “If it ever does appear here in Andromeda, we will need the Knights to defend us. Knights like our own Galen Dwyn. Provided we can keep him from getting himself killed charging into the breach.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The sun was nearing the far horizon when Galen returned. Lir and Rhiannon were enjoying an early meal in the old man’s office. He waved away the offer of food and sat down in a chair.

  “Have you found your ship for your suicide run?” Lir asked.

  “No,” Galen admitted. “Not that it would do me any good now. It seems we’re being hunted by your father’s ships, Napat’s own Alliance forces, and the Bata’van as well. Word has it that they’ll be here in the next two days.”

  “How do they know we’re here?” Rhiannon asked, alarmed.

  “They don’t,” he answered. “But it’s clearly an ‘all hands’ effort, and they’ve got ships heading in every direction looking for us. There aren’t that many habitable worlds out here so they’ll be able to cover a lot of ground and quickly. If we take off, they’d trace us like that and eventually run us down.”

  “So you can’t run,” Lir stated, “and you can’t attack. So what are you going to do?”

  “The only thing we can,” Galen replied. “We’re going to jump into a hole and let them pass us by. When they’ve cleared out of the system…”

  “Then what?” Lir asked when Galen’s voice trailed off.

  “Then we’ll think of something else,” he shook his head. “In the meantime, the Princess and I are heading back to the island. They won’t be able to see the ship, and if they do a close passover, we’ll just look like a couple vacationing on the beach.”

  “Won’t they identify us with a DNA scan?” she asked.

  “Not while we’re wearing these,” Galen pulled out two bracelets.

  “DNA scramblers,” Lir remarked. “Where did you find those on Belisama? No, never mind, don’t answer that question.”

  “They can scan us all they want, and their scans will not identify us as the people they are looking for. They fly off and then…” Galen stopped again and cocked his head to one side.

  “What?” Lir prompted.

  “Arkon,” Galen said. “We’ll go to Arkon. I have a contact there. He just might be able to get us what we need.”

  “As long as you are strategically planning,” Lir said dryly, “would you care to clue us in on what the plan is?”

  “If Napat is specifically looking for us, my contact will know why,” Galen explained. “If Napat is onto your father we might be able to go to him for sanctuary. With our testimony and the evidence we have, it just might be enough to sink Iodocus and save you, Princess.”

  “And what about you?” she asked.

  “I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, we need to get back to the island and get ready for the flyovers. Once the coast is clear, we leave for Arkon.”

  “And I go with you,” Lir announced.

  “This isn’t going to be a pleasure cruise, old man,” Galen pointed out. “We could have people shooting at us before this is over.”

  “Just try and stop me,” Lir fixed a stern glaze on Galen. “Besides, I still have contacts of my own, and they could prove useful in case you get yourself jammed up.”

  Galen considered it and made a quick decision.

  “Fine,” he relented. “Be packed and be ready to go an hour after I send the signal.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Lir promised. “I’m at least a dozen cycles overdue for an adventure.”

  * * * * *

  They got back to Galen’s island just as the last rays of light faded into night. Galen tied off the skimmer and led the way into the darkened beach house. He lighted several old oil lamps and got a small fire going in the fire place. Occasionally, the nights could get chilly out here.

  She spotted something on a workbench in the corner of the main room that seemed out of place with a smuggler’s hideout.

  “You carve crystals?” she asked in disbelief, staring at the workstation.

  “Even a smuggler can have a hobby,” he answered without the slightest hint of defensiveness.

  “You don’t strike me as the artistic type, Captain,” she replied. She took inventory of the uncarved crystals stacked neatly near the carver, a large orb on a silver base. The crystals were placed in the orb through a slot in the top. The operator, after activating the loaded orb, placed their hands on the orb and mentally projected the desired image. The device would carve what was projected and deliver the finished project out the same slot.

  “I don’t see any examples of your work anywhere,” she glanced around quickly. “You’re putting me on, aren’t you?”

  “You don’t see any because I don’t keep them,” he explained. “I recycle the crystal after I’m done with it. I use this to help keep sharp. The more attention to detail you provide the carver, the better the result. By doing this, it trains me to pay attention to details at all times. It’s kept me alive, Princess, many times over.”

  He sighed as she favored him with a silent look of disbelief.

  “Fine,” he said, selecting one of the crystals and loading it into the carver after activating it. The orb lit up in a rainbow of swirling colors, and he placed his hands on the device and closed his eyes in concentration. He quickly cracked open one eye.

  “This works a lot better when you keep your trap shut,” he said exasperated, looked over at her and cocked his head toward the window and the hidden ship. “Cass.”

  She wondered what the AI had said to elicit his response and had the olive skin darkened slightly? Had she just seen the Captain blushing? She’d have to ask Cassandra what she’d said. Something told her the Captain wasn’t going to share that information with her.

  He returned his attention to the carver and remained focused on the task at hand. She heard the whirring and cutting of the microcutters within shaving down the crystal to match the projected image. She knew that it took years for the masters to learn how to produce the incredible carvings she’d seen on display in Salacia.

  What would a smuggler call art? she wondered quietly.

  “There, that should ju
st about do it,” he said, drawing his hands away from the orb as the top popped open, and he reached in to retrieve the carving. She wasn’t sure, but he almost looked relieved after he saw what it was. Was he expecting it might be something else instead despite him being in control of the process?

  “That is incredibly beautiful,” she said as he showed it to her. “What kind of a creature is it?”

  “It’s an Ice Bear,” he replied. “They are extinct now. This was the last surviving member of its species, and he was on display in an aquarium. I saw him there, my last year at the Academy before I…left…”

  The bear, the crystal has been tinted a pale white, was standing on its hind legs, one forepaw raised as if in greeting, or in farewell. Pale blue eyes and a black nose were the only color on the carving.

  “The hairs look like you reach out and stroke them, and they’d be soft,” she remarked, gently taking possession of the carving.

  “You’d lose that hand if you’d tried it with the living version,” Galen said. “He was old, near the end of his days. They never were able to clone him to try to save the species. That last day I was there, he stood up like this and looked right at me. Then he lifted his paw like that. I’ve never forgotten that moment. It was as if he knew we were kindred spirits and would not see each other again in this life.”

  “You can see it in his expression,” she said, examining the bear’s face. “Galen, this is amazing work. You really have a talent for this.”

  She went to give the bear back but Galen held up his hand and shook his head.

  “A rare Galen Dwyn original,” he quipped. “It is yours, Princess. I insist.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, genuinely touched.

  “Want to give it a try?” he asked, putting a new crystal into the orb.

  “I wouldn’t know how or even what to try for,” she protested. “My sole artistic talent is playing a piano.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Just put your hands on the orb, close your eyes and think of something. A pet, a place you’ve been to, anything at all.”

  She placed the bear off to the side and cautiously placed her hands on the orb. Closing her eyes, she thought of Sophia, a pet feline she’d had as a child, all white with sapphire blue eyes. The orb’s cutters whirred away.

  “Well, let’s see what we have here,” Galen reached inside and withdrew her carving.

  It looked like Sophia, even down to the coloring. But it didn’t look like a living creature, not like the bear had. Her fur was not as fine or as defined. She felt disappointed.

  “Not bad for a first-timer,” he remarked as he studied it.

  “It’s terrible,” she replied.

  “You should have seen what I ended up with on my first attempt,” he said with a smile. “Looked like something this feline of yours produced a few hours after digesting a meal.”

  The Princess laughed, appreciating his attempt to make her feel better about her carving. Suddenly, he slipped it into his pocket.

  “Hey,” she protested, “You can’t keep that. It’s horrible.”

  “A rare, Princess Rhiannon original?” he joked. “Horrible? Besides I’m giving you the bear, so I get to keep the feline. My crystal, my carver, my house, my rules, my feline.”

  He closed the pocket and tapped it lightly. Laughingly, she surrendered the point.

  * * * * *

  Rhiannon suddenly lost a brief battle with a somewhat unladylike yawn, it was very, very late, and Galen showed her to the only room with a bed in it.

  “And where are you sleeping?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

  Galen’s own eyes danced with unspoken laughter as he let the question hang in the air between them.

  “On my very comfortable couch where I have slept many times,” he finally said. “Get some rest, Princess, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow to be ready for our visitors.”

  “Captain,” she called out, making him turn back around in the doorway. “I haven’t been… I haven’t really thanked you properly for all that you’ve done.”

  “You’ve had a lot thrown at you in a very short period of time,” he answered. “You’re allowed to be…”

  “Bitchy?”

  “I wouldn’t go there,” he replied. “Let’s just say a strict adherence to the niceties is understandably waived in situations like these.”

  “Still,” she nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Captain.”

  “You are welcome, Princess,” and finally he allowed himself to say it, this time, for the first time, in all sincerity. “And call me Galen.”

  “Only if you call me Rhiannon instead of Princess.”

  Galen’s eyes narrowed.

  “No, it doesn’t suit you,” he decreed. “I think we’ll go with Rhea instead.”

  “I’d like that.” She smiled fully, the first time he’d seen her do so since he’d rescued her from Vedastus.

  “Then a good night to you, Rhea,” he sketched a slight bow, hand over his heart and stepped outside.

  “Good night, Galen,” she answered just before he closed the door.

  “So we’re on a first name basis now are we?” Cassandra chimed in through the earpiece. “How cozy. And why didn’t you take my suggestion for the carver? Mr. ‘Attention to Detail’ certainly had seen enough to carve a very accurate nud…”

  Galen took the earpiece out, set it on the table, and flipped an empty glass over it. Cassandra chattered on for an hour unheard before she figured out he wasn’t listening to her anymore.

  He grabbed a blanket from storage and stretched out on the couch, the blanket haphazardly thrown over his legs and almost instantly fell asleep. His last thought was that he wouldn’t need a carving to remind him of what Rhea looked like, regardless of her state of dress.

  Unlike the cabin on the ship, there was no such soundproofing in the beach house. But for the first night since Rhea had awakened on the Tempest, she quietly slept throughout the night.

  * * * * *

  Galen awoke right at daybreak to a growling stomach. He hadn’t really eaten anything for going on nearly a day now. Folding up the blanket and returning it to its cubby, he quietly made his way to the kitchen and rummaged through the food packs in storage. With months usually passing between visits, the long-term packs were the best choice to keep food stored here for his infrequent visits.

  He slipped a pack in the hydrator and then dropped a java pod into the carafe. Two minutes later, he was enjoying a hearty breakfast. He reached over and lifted the glass, retrieving the com bud and placed it back in his ear.

  “Good morning, Cass.”

  He got the static of an open com for a reply. He decided to let her pout, certain she’d let him know if anything required his attention, and returned to his breakfast. He looked up at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Rhiannon, hair rumpled and rubbing sleep from bleary eyes, stepped out into the main room. She looked around until she located Galen.

  “Good morning,” he greeted.

  “Good morning,” she replied. “I thought I smelled java.”

  “You did,” he held up the carafe and pulled a second mug down from the hanging rack on the wall. He poured her a cup as she walked over to the kitchen bar.

  She was wearing the red number again, and he had to agree with Cass’ assessment that she filled it out nicely indeed. She took the proffered mug and sipped from it.

  “Mmmmm,” she purred. “I needed that.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  He opened the cabinet, rummaged through the breakfast selections and pulled out one to show her.

  “Perfect,” she agreed after examining the contents and taking another sip of java. He popped it in, refilled both their mugs. When the hydrator dinged, he pulled the finished meal out and set it down in front of her with some utensils.

  “I like the service at this place,” she said as she dug in.

  “I just bet she does,” Cassandra signaled an end to her pou
t. Galen ignored her and returned to his own meal as the two ate in a comfortable silence. He’d holed up in a lot of places from time to time, waiting for danger to pass. He couldn’t think of any that bettered his current situation.

  “You said that we had work to do before the people looking for us arrived,” she asked between bites.

  “Not too much,” he replied. “Unless someone lands on the beach, they won’t see the ship or the house. We’re going to set up a tent, not far from the skimmer, and make it look like we’re just a native couple on a nice romantic camping trip on a deserted island.”

  “You think they’ll believe that?”

  “They certainly will if you go out there in that,” he indicated her current attire.

  Her cheeks colored, as if she was only now remembering what she’d worn to bed. He kept the laughter contained within his eyes as he cleared the remains of the breakfast.

  “I’ll grab a shower on the Tempest,” he said, heading for the door. “You can use the bath in here. I’ll meet you outside.”

  * * * * *

  Galen had already built a haphazard fire pit in the sand, as would be expected of an inexperienced city person, and carried some of the ashes from the fireplace inside the house to make it looked well-used. A few pieces of wood piled nearby to indicate they were planning on a longer stay provided the finishing touches. He laid out a simple tent and had started setting it up when Rhiannon exited the beach house.

  “You said you wanted them to think we’re on a romantic getaway, didn’t you?” she asked as he looked her over in the two piece bathing suit she’d worn outside.

  “They couldn’t possibly think anything else,” he agreed.

  “So what do we do first?” she asked as she walked up close.

  “Yes, whatever should the two of you do next,” Cassandra affected a dreamy tone.

  “While I put this tent up,” Galen replied, trying to ignore his AI’s needling and his awareness of just how close Rhiannon was standing to him. It was a comfortably warm morning, and yet he could feel the heat radiating off of her body. “You should grab a couple of light blankets and towels and spread them out on the beach. I’ll go grab some empty bottles and place them around our campsite.”