Galen's Way: A Starquest 4th Age Adventure

by Richard Paolinelli

  “Unless you’d prefer to take their place after I turn command of your ship over to your exec,” Harmool cut him off. “I will then order him to execute them after he throws you out an airlock.”

  “Execute both pilots,” the Captain swallowed hard. “Understood, sir.”

  “Then stand by for further orders.” Harmool cut the connection, picked up a carafe of java from his desk and hurled it at the nearest wall. Shattered glass and hot liquid scattered across the room.

  We had them, he raged, we had them and let them get away!

  “Sir,” his aide rushed in. “Are you okay? I heard a noise…” he trailed off as he spotted the shattered remains of the carafe.

  “Bring me the file on Dwyn,” Harmool ordered.

  “Sir?”

  “Bring me the damned file, or I’ll get someone who knows how to do your job better than you!”

  The aide retreated from the room, returning a few seconds later with the file. He dropped it on the desk and fled before Harmool could unleash his wrath on him any further. Harmool opened the file, looking for some clue. Dwyn now had several days head start, and they didn’t even know what direction he’d gone off in.

  “Where would you go?” he muttered aloud. None of Dwyn’s known haunts were anywhere near Belisama. The old professor was his only known associate, and it appeared that he was now traveling with Dwyn.

  He still did not believe Dwyn was running away. But he would need information, maybe even a new ship. But where could he get both without attracting too much attention? Harmool called up a star map of the area, quickly eliminating several planets before narrowing it down to three possible targets. All were known smugglers’ ports. His finger paused as it passed over Arkon. That might just be the likeliest place, a known location where smugglers gathered while waiting for new opportunities. There’d probably be a ship or two Dwyn could hire, or steal outright, as well. He’d send ships out to all three possible destinations to keep an eye out for the Tempest. In the meantime he would take a ship in the direction of Arkon and wait for word from one of the orbiting ships.

  “Get me the Aguila,” he stabbed at the com panel.

  “This is the Aguila,” the ship’s captain answered.

  “Captain, stand by for immediate departure as soon as I board your ship,” Harmool ordered. “Set your course for Arkon and if you have to turn your engine cores into slag to get me there as fast as possible then that is precisely what I want you to do.”

  He tabbed the com to disconnect the call. He tabbed another button on the panel.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Have every man in your command on board the Aguila in thirty minutes, Commander,” he ordered. “I’ll brief you on your mission on the ship.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Harmool got up and headed for the King’s quarters. He just barely had time to let the King know where he was going and why. If he was right, all of their worries would go away.

  And if he was wrong, he’d probably be better off stealing a ship of his own on Arkon and heading out to deep space.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The flight to Dimor took an extra day to complete. The damage to the Tempest had turned out to be slightly more than the ship could handle after all. They’d drifted in space for a few hours while Galen fixed what he could and patched up the rest enough to get his ship to Dimor.

  Galen and Rhea spent every possible moment together. Their love making on that last night before landing on Dimor had been frenetic, as if both feared that it would be the last night they would share together, until they had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

  “Galen,” Lir called from the flight deck. “We’re approaching Dimor. Cassandra estimates landing in an hour.”

  “I’ll be up soon,” he replied.

  “Are you sure about this, Galen?” Rhea asked, clutching him closer as if she were afraid to let him go. “We could go straight to your Sanctuary, couldn’t we? Who cares about Salacia or Napat. You said they might wind up fighting one another whether or not we showed up.”

  “Sanctuary is a last resort, Rhea,” he kissed her forehead. “If there is any chance to stop your father without there being a war, any chance to give you a normal life without fear of assassination, I have to try.”

  “You’ll go to Arkon and come right back?”

  “As soon as I can.” He was grateful for the darkness so she couldn’t see that he was lying.

  He got out of the bed, while he could still resist the urge to remain there in her embrace and order Cass to fly them to Sanctuary, and headed for the fresher. By the time the Tempest was settling down on the surface, he was dressed and ready to disembark.

  “Cass,” he said as he slipped his com bud into his ear. “If I send the bugout signal, or if you lose contact with me, don’t wait around. Head for Sanctuary and remain there until I contact you. If I haven’t done so within a lune, you’re to let Lir take command and fly him and Rhea to Caletos and seek sanctuary there. Tell Ellaneiri that I was the ‘friend’ who returned his daughter to him alive and that he can repay me by giving you two sanctuary on Caletos.”

  “A lot can change out there in four weeks, boy,” Lir pointed out.

  “I know,” Galen allowed. “But he’s your best bet if something happens to me. Cass, acknowledge your orders. And open the port hatch.”

  “Acknowledged,” she replied unhappily, as the port hatch swung open. Rhea was standing between it and Galen. Galen walked over to her, placed a gentle hand on her cheek, and looked at her, drinking in every strand of hair, every pore on her skin, committing it to memory as if he never expected to see her in the flesh again.

  “Be careful,” she said. “And come back to me.”

  He leaned down and kissed her. He broke the embrace and hurried out the hatch into the dark night beyond.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Lir said as he stood in the hatchway and watched Galen disappear into the night.

  Galen never once turned back to look at his ship, or the woman he loved. Lir suspected that if Galen had done so, he would have come right back to the ship and remained. The old man knew his pupil was up to something other than his stated purpose. He just couldn’t figure out what was going on inside that devious mind.

  He looked over at the Princess, silent tears streaming down her face as she watched the man that she loved leave her, maybe to never see him again.

  “Cassandra?”

  “Yes, Lir?”

  “How good are you at hacking repair drones?”

  “I find that question highly insulting. Why do you ask?”

  “Because you probably should get some working on repairing this ship without tipping off anyone that we’re down here,” Lir replied. “I have a feeling we’re going to need this ship at optimal operation whether we actually go to Sanctuary or not.”

  * * * * *

  Galen caught the last shuttle of the night to Arkon, hoping that it would be carrying fewer passengers. He was lucky. He was the only one aboard the robotic shuttle as it lifted off the surface of Dimor.

  He’d resisted looking back at his ship as he topped the rise between it and the shuttle pad. He could already feel Rhea’s eyes on him the entire way. He knew if he turned around he’d lose his resolve. So he kept going, one foot in front of the other until he got aboard the shuttle. When it went airborne, he deliberately looked out the other side lest he catch even a glimpse of the Tempest.

  He settled in for the two-hour flight to Arkon. At least, he would not have to fear being recognized and have an alarm sounded before he even got there. As the shuttle settled down on Arkon City’s pad, the first slice of sunlight was beginning to rise above the horizon. Galen placed his jacket’s hood over his head and quickly exited the shuttle, slipping out onto the deserted street.

  Though it had been a few cycles since his last visit, the place hadn’t changed much. Forgoing a taxi, he walked toward his destination. Jaquez Thulumass owned a bar here that never clo
sed. Most people thought it was a great place to unwind and party. A few in the know understood that if you needed information, no matter what kind it might be, you’d find it somewhere inside the walls of The Bitter Hag. No one knew for sure, and Jaquez would never say, but the prevailing wisdom was that he’d named the bar after his seventh wife.

  * * * * *

  Galen’s luck held as he stepped into the bar. It was empty save three barflies too drunk to see anything beyond the tips of their noses, the bartender busily cleaning the glasses behind the bar and, off in the far corner in the booth that served as his office, Jaquez himself.

  Most of the clientele had either departed to go to work or were currently engaged in all manners of sexual activities with people they’d only just met earlier that evening.

  “Galen Dwyn,” Jaquez looked surprised. “You are the last person I expected to see walking into my bar these days.”

  “Any particular reason why?” Galen asked

  “You my friend, as you surely must know, are number one with a bullet on the hot commodities list right now,” Jaquez waived him to be seated. “You could buy whole planets with the price that’s on your head right now. There’s supposed to be a woman in your company that’s worth even more.”

  “I seem to have misplaced her,” Galen said with a shrug. “This price, is it dead or alive?”

  “Dead for both of you if the woman is found with you,” Jaquez replied. “Alive if she isn’t.”

  “Who put out the markers?”

  “It came from Salacia. The King’s own head errand boy showed up in the system last night in a Salacian destroyer.”

  Galen felt a shiver of dread run down his spine but kept his face neutral. Harmool here was not a good sign. How had the man figured out to look for them here? Had he somehow guessed? Had someone spotted them and sent word?

  The good news, at least, was he’d be assured of ending up in Harmool’s custody alive, which is where he needed to eventually be if what he had in mind was going to work. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

  “If I were you, I’d hop back into that flying rust bucket of yours and leave before someone calls in and collects that reward.”

  “That would be a problem,” Galen replied.

  “Ah, so you came here looking for a ship? I wish I could help you out, my friend, but you’d never get within a thousand yards of any ship on this rock before they’d nail you.”

  Galen let the man make as many incorrect assumptions as he wanted to. Each one served his purpose.

  “I’m surprised you got here in one piece,” Jaquez continued. “Your old friend, Quaz, was here a couple of days back bragging about how he was going to nail you and collect the bounty.”

  “He took his shot,” Galen replied simply. “He missed.”

  Jaquez didn’t bother asking for the details.

  “I’m almost tempted to give you a ship anyway, out of gratitude for killing that wretch,” Jaquez said. “But I just can’t do it.”

  “Don’t worry over it, Jaq,” he reached over and selected a bottle from Jaquez’s private stock along with an empty glass. He stood up to leave. “This will do instead.”

  Galen headed for an empty table.

  “Galen, you’re not staying here are you?”

  “I’ve got nowhere else to be,” he shrugged as he claimed his new seat, giving him a clear view of both exits. “Go ahead and make the call, Jaq, I’d rather a friend got the bounty.”

  “Damnit, Galen, they broke the mold after they made you,” Jaquez said, lifting a receiver from the table. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “So do I, Jaq,” Galen replied as he poured himself a drink. “So do I.”

  * * * * *

  He didn’t have to wait too long. A man trying too hard to look like an ordinary civilian stepped through the main entrance and surveyed the room an hour later. Everything about him screamed ‘military’ to Galen. Watching him, without making eye contact, Galen waited for the new arrival to spot him and reach his hand up to his ear. The scout had confirmed the target was here.

  Galen glanced over at Jaquez, who tapped every transmission in and out of this place, and he held up four fingers. Four minutes until the scout’s friends descended on this place. Galen rose from the table and casually strolled toward the rear exit. He answered Jaquez’s salute of an upraised glass with a slight nod of his head as he passed the table. He didn’t need to look behind him to know the scout was trailing after him.

  Slipping out the door, he sprinted for the end of the alley and called his ship.

  “Cass, bug out, bug out right now!” tugging the bud out he slammed it against the wall of the building, shattering the transmitter.

  He waited until his shadow stepped out before turning the corner, he didn’t want the man to lose him just yet, and headed straight for a craftsman’s shop with an open barrel next to the store’s outside workbench. As he walked past, he opened his fist and let the pieces of the bud tumble into the drum of acid, where they quickly dissolved. There would be no forcing him to contact his ship, or someone copying his voice to trick any of them into coming back for him.

  That task completed, he headed for his intended destination, making sure not to lose his tail. Three blocks later, he quickly turned into a dead end alley. There were no doors, no windows, and an overhang prevented any upward escape.

  Perfect, he thought to himself, drawing out his sabre and fully extending it while he waited patiently for his pursuers to close in. He would only need to defend against attack from one direction without worry about a rearward assault or someone dropping on him from above.

  He knew that he was going to eventually lose this fight to the sheer numbers the enemy would bring to bear. But he was going to make them pay dearly for their victory. More importantly though, Rhea would be safe and forever free from her father’s reach.

  * * * * *

  “Galen just sent the bug out signal,” Cassandra reported.

  Lir and Rhiannon, supervising the two ‘commandeered’ repair drones near the rear the ship, shared a look of dread.

  “We can’t leave him,” she pleaded.

  “Cassandra,” Lir said. “Can you raise him?”

  “I lost his signal seconds after he sent the bug out call, Lir.” There was genuine sadness in the artificial voice. “I can’t call him now. Nor can we risk a DNA scan, we’d never get close enough to the planet before we’d be discovered.”

  “Are the repairs complete enough for us to leave,” Lir asked, ignoring the pleading green eyes tearing up with every word he spoke.

  “They are. But we still need to complete them before we get into any serious trouble.”

  “Then do as Galen said,” Lir replied. “Take off for Sanctuary. As soon as the drones finish the repairs, we’ll jettison them so they can’t report our location.”

  “Lir…” Rhiannon’s voice broke.

  “This is what he set up, my dear. Whatever he’s up to, this is what he wants us to do. I’m truly sorry.” His own eyes were far from dry.

  The Tempest lifted off from Dimor and slipped off into space unnoticed by any curious eyes on Arkon.

  * * * * *

  Harmool quickly joined his troops, eager to confront the man who’d been a gigantic pain in his neck. Dwyn had been driven into a dead-end alley with no possible escape route. The scanner showed he was just standing there, waiting. Harmool had ordered the area surrounded until he arrived, but no move was to be made against Dwyn until he got there.

  “Sir,” the commander saluted as he arrived. “The target is surrounded, and my men are ready to move in on your order.”

  “Very good, Commander. I will go in first, you and your men will enter right behind me. No one is open fire unless I give the order. I want this man taken alive, am I understood?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “What is the status of the search for the Princess?”

  “DNA scans of the planet are negative,”
the officer reported. “But we already know they have access to scramblers so she likely has her’s on.”

  “Odd, that he doesn’t though, don’t you think?”

  “Probably forgot it, sir, the scout reports he isn’t wearing his blaster either.”

  Harmool was troubled by that information, although he supposed even a mercenary could manage to make a blunder or two.

  “And the Tempest?”

  “Not in orbit, not in port either. We are scanning the planet for it, but if it is shielded or somewhere deep underground, it will be difficult to find.”

  “Redouble your efforts,” Harmool ordered. “If Dwyn is here on this planet, so is that ship and so is the Princess! In the meantime, let’s see if I can talk some sense into him first. Perhaps I can convince him to tell me where we can find her.”

  “And if he does?”

  “We’ll verify the information and,” Harmool added with a smile, “when we have her in our custody, we will kill the man.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well, then Commander,” Harmool walked toward the intersection, “let’s get on with it.”

  * * * * *

  Galen heard the approaching footsteps and readied himself, gripping his sabre tightly. He’d left his blaster behind on the Tempest, he had everything he needed right here in his hands. He grinned when Harmool stepped into view with at least a dozen of his goons behind him in the standard all-black Salacian military fatigues.

  “Hi there, Harmool,” he called out, a lot more cavalierly than he actually felt inside. “Been a long time since Cukier.”

  “Indeed it has, Mr. Dwyn.”

  “Call me, Galen,” he quipped, invoking a cold smile from Harmool.

  “Impudent to the very end, I see,” Harmool replied. “Very well, Mr. Dwyn, shall we get down to business?”

  “I don’t know,” Galen replied. “I don’t think you brought nearly enough men with you.”

  “Oh, I have plenty more waiting in the wings,” Harmool assured. “But you can save yourself a lot of pain by simply telling me where Princess Rhiannon is.”

  “You know something, Harmool, I don’t think I’ll do that.”