Starhold's Fate

by J. Alan Field

  Lieutenant Navarro swiveled in his seat to put in an urgent word.

  “Admiral, before you speak with that ship, note that our sensors are showing its shield generators have taken moderate damage. They look compromised.”

  Nyondo agreed. “Maybe Hussar got in some licks after all.”

  “It’s probably why Harradoss wants to talk,” Swoboda added.

  Pettigrew drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Captain Nyondo, edge us around the hull of Rasquin so that we are in a direct line-of-sight with Chisellion. Mr. Navarro, slave our task group fire controls to your station. If that ship makes any moves while we are speaking, don’t wait for my order—just blast them.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Pettigrew gestured to the comm officer. “Let’s see what Harradoss wants, Ensign. Open the channel and put it up on the main viewer.”

  The picture of an enemy officer appeared at the front of the bridge, but it wasn’t Harradoss. Massang of similar ages were sometimes difficult for humans to distinguish, but as far as Pettigrew knew, he had never dealt with this individual before.

  “I am Captain Terux,” began the russet-faced alien. “Despite the many tactical victories of our glorious Vanguard forces, you presently have our fleet at a strategic disadvantage. I also note that you have reinforcements arriving shortly. It is my goal to negotiate a withdrawal from this system.”

  “A what? A withdrawal?” scoffed Pettigrew. “Nothing less than a Massang surrender will end this. Inform Harradoss that we need to speak directly. No offense, Captain, but now is not the time to negotiate through subordinates.”

  Terux seemed amused. “You would find a conversation with Harradoss very one-sided. He has led my people to ruin and has been removed as First Protector. You will be pleased to know that he is paying for his wrongdoing. I will show you.”

  A new image appeared to the right of Terux—an appalling image. It was Harradoss, stripped naked with restraints holding him down on a table. A long incision ran the length of his torso, clamps in place to pull the gash open wide. He writhed in pain as some of his entrails had been partially pulled from his body and were now draped along the outside of the incision. His tormentors seemed to be taunting him as they prepared to make another cut.

  Harradoss shrieked in a cacophony of horrifying screams, each one sounding worse than the last. The Massang typically flooded the bodies of their vivisection victims with stimulants to keep them conscious during the procedure. The whole thing was constructed to be the ultimate sensory nightmare, and Harradoss appeared to be suffering through a textbook example of the barbarous custom.

  Nyondo had to look away. Some of the bridge crew moaned in disgust—or perhaps pity. Others covered their ears to block out Harradoss’s ghastly screams.

  “Remove that screen,” demanded Pettigrew. “Remove it now!”

  “I do not understand,” said a confused Terux as the secondary image faded. “Harradoss is your enemy. Are you not pleased with his agony?”

  “I am not,” Pettigrew answered through clinched teeth.

  The alien captain’s expression transformed again, and there was no doubt in regard to his new disposition. “Pettigrew, you and your people sicken me. Harradoss was right—humans are a weak-willed, irrational race. That fool tried to kill me, and I did not hesitate to destroy him instead. It is the way of the universe. If you fail to seize upon your enemy’s weakness, they will surely make you pay.”

  Pettigrew stood, giving the Massang captain an icy stare. “Captain, that is the first thing you’ve said that we can both agree on. Lieutenant Navarro—open fire.”

  28: Second Life

  Six months later

  Earth

  Chaz Pettigrew gazed out the shuttle window and down upon the blue expanse of the Pacific Ocean. The water seemed to stretch on endlessly, much like the black void where he had spent so many of his years—the darkness in which he had lived his previous life.

  As he took in the beauty of Earth, his thoughts turned to the cost of preserving this planet and all the other worlds of humankind. The price had been staggering: three thousand lives lost during the Third Battle of Earth, twenty-two thousand at Cor Caroli, over four million total dead in the Massang War.

  The debris field left by Third Earth was so massive that even now, half a year after the battle took place, work was still going on to clear it. Nyondo was employed by the EarthFed government as a consultant on that monumental task. At least these days, when she went into space she stayed days, not months. There were no more jumps into hyperspace, no more putting herself or others at risk, no more life or death decisions.

  As for Pettigrew himself, he was now dirtside—literally. He had purchased a small farm just outside of Bakkoa City. The man knew next to nothing about farming, but was keen to learn with the help of his neighbors and a few hired hands. The plan was for he and Sunny to settle down, have a family, and grow old together. So commonplace, so boring… so perfect.

  Chaz Pettigrew had served his starhold for nearly his entire adult life, sacrificing independence and wealth, family and love. He had given enough. The remainder of his lifetime was going to be his own.

  “So, when are you two going to get married?”

  Frank Carr’s question jolted him away from the hypnotic view.

  “Ask her,” Pettigrew said as he took the hand of Sunny Nyondo into his own. She was seated beside him in the back of Etta Sanchez’s Aquila DX flyer. Carr sat facing them munching on a walnut bar as his wife piloted the craft to their mysterious destination.

  Sanchez glanced back at her passengers. “Sunny, Frank is just being a smartass. He’s almost perfected the art.”

  “No almost about it,” bragged Carr, “but back to my question—when?”

  Pettigrew squeezed Nyondo’s hand and shrugged. “The Many Gods know I’ve asked her more times than I can count.”

  Nyondo smiled. “And I always give him the same answer: when the time is right.”

  “And if it’s never right?” asked Carr.

  She leaned her head against the ex-admiral’s shoulder. “We will always have each other.”

  “Speaking of the time being right,” segued Pettigrew. “Isn’t it time you two told us exactly where we are going?”

  Carr gulped down the last morsel of his snack. “I told you, some friends have invited us all for the weekend. They immigrated to Earth, just like the rest of us. Etta and I look in on them from time to time. It’s kind of a favor to a mutual acquaintance back on Sarissa.”

  “So, where the heck do these people live?” pressed Pettigrew.

  “I’d say we’ve been in the air for well over an hour and already taken one suborbital jump,” ventured Nyondo. “We must be on the other side of the planet by now.”

  “Good guess,” said Sanchez. The women had already developed a friendly rivalry over who was the better pilot. “ETA in ten minutes.”

  “ETA where?” demanded Pettigrew.

  Sanchez looked around at them wearing a sly smile.

  “Thank you all for flying Air Sanchez today. Our next stop: Australia.”

  * * * *

  Both Pettigrew and Nyondo gawked out the small starboard window as Sanchez gently touched the Aquila down on a small private landing pad. From what they could see, it seemed like they had arrived in a seaside residential area—upscale to be sure but not overly ostentatious. As Pettigrew left the flyer, the salty ocean breeze hit his nostrils. Nyondo had debarked first and was close by, just standing and staring out at the ocean.

  “Can we just stand right here on this spot all weekend?” she asked. “It’s breathtaking.”

  “Welcome to New Brisbane,” said Carr. “You two are going to love this place. C’mon—we’ll come back for the bags later. Let’s go meet our hosts.”

  The foursome walked toward the back deck of the house, a large area enclosed by tall fencing. Pettigrew was pleased to spy an inground pool just before they ambled down some steps and throug
h a gate. A dip in that swimming pool sometime over the next few days would feel good. They had left a chilly Bakkoa at mid-morning, but it was early evening here and very, very hot.

  As they approached the house, he saw a couple standing ready to greet them beneath an extended sunshade near the rear entrance. The black man was a few years younger than Pettigrew—maybe in his mid-forties. Fit and handsome, his right hand rested on the shoulder of his fair-complexioned companion. The woman’s striking features came into focus as Pettigrew got closer, and they were hauntingly familiar.

  I don’t believe it. Her hair was long and brown, not short and blonde. The nose was slightly different and her lips were thicker, but he was sure of it. It was her.

  “This can’t be,” whispered Nyondo just before Carr started the introductions.

  “Sunny Nyondo, Chaz Pettigrew, I’d like you to meet our friends, David Garrison and his wife, Regina.”

  David extended a hand in greeting. “Very good to meet you.”

  Pettigrew and Nyondo glanced at each other, then over to Carr and Sanchez. Frank wore a stoic look, but Sanchez wasn’t even trying to hide her delight.

  “Yes,” Pettigrew replied after a brief hesitation. He reached out to firmly grasp David’s hand. “Yes, it’s good to meet you, as well.”

  The woman declined a handshake and went straight for a welcoming hug. “Call me Reggie. It’s so nice to meet you, Chaz, it really is.”

  “Actually, although you might not remember it, we met once before—during a reception at the Centroplex about, oh, I’d say five years ago now.”

  Her face retained its warm smile, but her voice cooled. “No, we didn’t. We have never met.”

  An awkward silence fell over the group.

  “Wait,” said Nyondo. “I’m confused. I’m sorry, but I thought you were…”

  Carr interrupted, speaking up to clarify things. “Sunny, you and Chaz are mistaken. Renata Darracott and Karl Gideon are dead. They were both assassinated four years ago. It was all over the news. Those people are gone, understand me? Gone.”

  Reggie spoke up, trying to place her guests at ease.

  “Chaz, the woman you met five years ago no longer exits. My husband and I are living our second lives now. In a way, everyone here is. Six people with six stories, each one of us with a fresh opportunity for a happy ending.”

  Pettigrew looked to Nyondo, then nodded with a smile. “It sounds like something to celebrate.”

  “And celebrate we shall,” said David gleefully, rubbing his hands together. “Drinks and dinner are waiting inside. Tomorrow morning, we can visit town. Captain Kulakov is meeting us down at the Cove for brunch.”

  “Captain Kulakov?” inquired Pettigrew. “Ex-military?”

  “Hardly. Ex-merchant marine,” answered Carr. “The old boy has taken quite a shine to Etta. Whenever we are in New Brisbane, I have to keep my eye on those two.”

  “Kulakov is fond of me, but he absolutely adores Reggie,” teased Sanchez. “It’s not our fault the man has excellent taste in women.”

  David stepped forward, extending an arm to Nyondo. “Sunny, let me show you around our home. I’d also like to hear about your job. Carr tells me you are working on clearing the debris field—it that right?”

  With David commandeering Nyondo, Carr and Sanchez fell in behind them and the group moved indoors, leaving Pettigrew and Reggie alone on the back deck. What might have been an awkward moment wasn’t at all. In fact, Pettigrew felt as if he had known this woman for ages.

  “Just so Sunny and I can be clear about things, does anyone else know? Aside from Frank and Etta, that is.”

  “A few people here in town—Kulakov and a couple of others, but they like us well enough to keep our secret is safe. It is safe, isn’t it, Chaz?”

  Pettigrew nodded. “Of course—you can count on us. But, what if the wrong people were to find out?”

  “Then David and I would disappear again. Karl Gideon was a fabulously wealthy man. You would be stunned to know how much property he owned on different worlds. It wouldn’t be that difficult to vanish again, but I don’t want to leave here. I never want to leave. I love it here—Earth is our home.”

  “One more question. Sorry, but I just have to ask,” said Pettigrew apologetically. “Why did you do it? Why did you walk away from it all?”

  Reggie paused for a few seconds before smiling. “That’s easy—survival. Not so much for myself, but for the one I love,” she said, watching her husband silhouetted though the house windows as he entertained their guests inside. “What about you, Chaz? What are you hoping to do now? You know, saving the universe is going to be a tough act to follow.”

  “You’re right,” he said, looking off at the ocean. “Now comes the really hard part—saving myself.”

  A few moments of pleasant silence passed between them as an agreeable breeze blew in from the Pacific.

  Pettigrew gestured toward the house. “Let’s go inside and join the others.”

  “Sounds good,” she said taking his arm. “I’m so happy all of us could finally get together.”

  For Your Consideration

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  About the Author

  J. Alan Field grew up in the 1960s, immersing himself in classic television shows such as the original Star Trek, The Wild, Wild West, The Avengers, and The Man from UNCLE, he developed a lifelong passion for imaginative story telling. Among his favorite authors and books are Dan Simmons and his Hyperion Cantos, David Brin’s Uplift Series, Melanie Rawn’s Dragon Prince/Star novels, David Weber, and George R.R. Martin. In the late-1990s, Field was introduced to the exceptional world of anime and became an enthusiastic “otaku.” Some of his favorite works include Ghost in the Shell, Shojo Kakumei Utena, and the Macross universe.

  Science fiction has always held a special fascination for Field, as it is a window onto not only the future but also the present. In examining the possibilities of what we can be, we must first and foremost examine ourselves. Before writing, Field spent thirty-four years as a history teacher in the city of Morgantown, West Virginia, where he still resides. He is very grateful to all of his friends who have supported his writing and hopes to make them proud.