by GARY DARBY
WHEN STARS FALL
by
Gary J. Darby
Book Four
Of the Star Scout Saga
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter One
Star Date: 2443.090
The Helix Nebula
“Hard over! Hard over!” Star Scout Alena Romer shouted. “They’re running two straight at us!”
With fast and frantic fingers running across his piloting board, Star Scout Dason Thorne flipped the Zephyr on its port side and then corkscrewed the little ship straight up between the two behemoth-sized Mongan warships.
From the closest enemy craft a sizzling scarlet ray seared the ether, passing close enough to the Zephyr’s stubby nose that dancing lights momentarily dazzled Dason’s vision.
Gaining his eyesight, he swung the craft first to starboard, then to port, barrel-rolling down through billowing, dark-green gas clouds that resembled garish sofa pillows.
A second brilliant bolt pierced the cloud’s boiling innards, exploding in a burst of brilliance that caused Dason to jerk his head to one side and shield his eyes.
“They’re bracketing us, get us out of here!” Alena exclaimed loudly.
Dason punched the acceleration control just as another crimson beam sliced through the swirling gas. The bolt passed cleanly astern carving the swirling clouds like a sun-hot laser cutting through green jello.
Like a hungry cheetah bursting from its hiding place in hot pursuit of prey, the Zephyr leaped forward out of the grayish-green cloudbank.
Alena scanned the control panel with a hard mask of intensity. “They’re starting to get the range. I suggest we put some distance between them and us before they get off a lucky shot.”
“Good suggestion,” Dason answered in a tight voice. “Those last couple of shots were way too close for comfort. Either they’ve got a super-compu hooked into their weapon’s system or they’re getting too familiar with our tactics.”
He accelerated the little Zephyr away from the Mongan and into a series of tight turns. The vessel seemed to leapfrog between cloud clumps, gaining speed in its bid to escape the Mongan warships.
After a few minutes of tense silence, the two scouts leaned back in relief when it became apparent the Mongans were not following.
“What were you so worried about?” Alena asked with an impish grin. “If one of their beams had caught us it would have been instant annihilation. The next thing you’d know you’d be standing in line to get fitted for a halo and wings.”
“Thanks, ma’am,” Dason replied dryly. “That’s real comforting that you think I qualify for angelhood.”
Her mouth turned down in a slight frown. “Well, I know I don’t, so it’s good that one of us does.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Dason replied as he scanned their sensors. “I’m sure there’s a halo and wings waiting for you. A small set to be sure, but a halo and wings nevertheless.”
“Gee, thanks,” Alena muttered as she too intently swept her eyes across the board, searching for any sign that the Mongans were on their tail.
For good measure, Dason did a final evasive maneuver and then straightened the ship out on an even keel as they ducked into a towering, columnar black cloud.
“Do you think,” Dason asked letting out a long breath when it became evident that they were in the clear, “that they actually got a lock on us back there or were they just spraying shots in the hope that one might connect?”
“Not sure if that first brute had us in his sights,” Alena replied. “But that second one was acting as if it knew where the bull’s eye was. What’s our status?”
Dason ran his eyes over the controls. “Green across the board. We’re good.”
Alena took a quick glance at the chronometer. “We’ve got time for one more pass, before Zephyr Two comes on-station.”
With intent eyes, Dason studied his ops scope. “Let’s stay on this heading for now, let the Mongans think we’ve bugged out. Then we’ll reverse course and hit’em again.”
For a half hour, Dason wove the craft through the shadowy gasses. After a bit, he began to feel as if he were inside a never-ending fog. He tried to stifle the yawn from the monotony and lack of sleep, but all he accomplished was screwing his mouth all out of shape.
Alena smiled at Dason’s facial contortion and asked, “Getting a little tired? Go aft and catch a few winks, I’ll take on the Mongans all by myself. After all, what’ve they got that we don’t, other than ships that are about a thousand times bigger than this one.”
Dason shook his head with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, didn’t get a lot of sleep on my last off-shift.”
Alena nodded and gave him a knowing look. “I noticed you’ve been poring over a lot of star charts. Are you looking for something in particular or are you studying up so that you can buck for a cushy astrogator’s job on a starliner?”
“And here I thought,” Dason replied with a sigh, “that no one knew that I’d applied with Star Dream Cruise Lines for a novice astrogation position. I hear you eat really good on those cruise ships. I’m just waiting to hear back so that I can hand in my resignation to Star Scout Command.”
Alena quietly laughed at Dason’s response. What Dason didn’t say and what Alena didn’t realize was that her comment had hit close to home.
In fact, he had been looking for something on the charts. Or rather, for a particular star system and a person—his father, missing Star Scout Captain Deklon Marrel.
The extraterrestrial image of Dason’s father, stranded on an alien world Out There, burned in Dason’s memory and with it, the overwhelming feeling that his father was alive.
What’s more, Dason couldn’t shake the sense that the image proved his father hadn’t become a cross-over, hadn’t joined the evil Gadion Faction terrorists as so many claimed.
The image, somehow passed to him by his inadvertent contact with an alien Mongan, showed an unknown world circled by several moons, one of which had experienced some form of cataclysmic event.
Shattered and torn, the orb made it a distinctive interstellar landmark and one that he hoped would lead him to his missing father. The question was, where was that moon and where in the vast cosmos was the planet that it circled?
When not on patrol, or either sleeping or catching up on housekeeping duties, Dason spent much of his time studying the Zephyr’s updated star charts, searching for any clue that might lead him to one planet among the millions and millions that floated in the galaxy.
He not
iced that though Alena had laughed in response, her look said that she wasn’t buying his attempt to deflect her question. He gave a little shrug, cleared his throat, and muttered, “Looking for something in particular, but I’m not making much headway other than losing sleep.”
Alena let the silence stretch on for several seconds, keenly aware of Dason’s reticence in sharing the precise nature of what he was looking for in the database.
“Anything I can help with when we get back to base camp?” she asked.
Dason shook his head in answer. “I don’t think so, but thanks anyway.”
He turned to scan his navigation scope for several seconds. “Alena, have you noticed that every time we hit these guys, right after, they go back to their original azimuth?”
“I’ve noticed,” Alena responded. “Either they don’t view us as much of a threat or they’re tactically lazy or naïve—or all the above.”
“It’s probably the former,” Dason replied, “because it’s obvious we’re not doing much more than giving them a good rattling and knocking off a few armor plates. We’re faster, more maneuverable, react quicker to the tactical situation, but we just don’t have the firepower to do any real damage.”
Their craft zipped between cloud layers until Dason chose to dive into a lower, darker gas wall. Once engulfed by the thick vapors, he let the ship slow and coast through the swirling eddies.
He gestured toward the navigation plot. “There has to be a reason that they return to that same heading. But what?”
Alena screwed her face up in thought. “Could be any number of explanations and remember we’re dealing with alien minds here. How we think is not the same as how they mentally process things.”
“True,” Dason replied, “and since I flunked alien mind-reading 101 when I was a novice, I’m just going to have to rely on my imperfect human brain for now.”
“And what does your puny human brain tell you?” she asked.
“Well . . .” he mused aloud, “for starters, patrolling to intercept any inbound hostiles like Imperium warships.”
Alena shook her head. “I’d discount that one. The nebula plays havoc with sensors and from the way they act when we pop up, they can’t see any better through this goop than we can.
“No, if you were going to set up an interdiction screen, you’d do it either outside the nebula or in the inner core. If it were me, I’d choose the inside just past the first clouds, catch anyone coming out before their sensors could recalibrate after coming through the gas cloud.”
“Okay,” Dason responded, “patrolling is out. So, what about either a reconnaissance or survey mission of the nebula? Maybe they’re looking for something in particular inside the cloud.”
Alena scanned the dark clouds that swirled past the Zephyr. “Interesting thought,” she replied, “but what could they possibly be looking for in this soup? There’s nothing out here but gaseous material for the most part with some chunks of rock and ice here and there.
“From what I’ve seen, this outer cloud band hasn’t been able to coalesce enough to start forming stars and planets so all that’s here is a witch's brew of gaseous materials any one of which you could concoct up in a chem lab.”
A tiny beeping from the console caused her to lean forward to peer at the board. “Ion cannon is back online and fully operational. We must’ve really drained it last time—took a long time to recharge.”
She glanced sideways at Dason. “So, do we assume they’ve gone back to their original course and try for an intercept?”
“We do,” Dason replied as he peered at his board. “If we turn to mark three three and down seven, that should put us on a tangent based on their estimated speed.”
Alena gave a nod in response. “You get us there, and I’ll ram a torpedo down their stubby, banded necks.”
Dason made the necessary adjustments to their course. Finishing, he said, “Too bad we can’t do more than give them a little sting when we hit them, I’m beginning to understand how a mosquito feels, sucking out one drop at a time.”
“Who doesn’t want to hurt’em more?” Alena replied. She gestured toward the nebula cloud. “What we need is a swarm of Zephyrs—”
“Or, an Imperium Navy fleet,” Dason interjected.
“And that too,” Alena replied. “But don’t get your hopes up because for the time being, we are the fleet, all four of us.”
With an intent expression, she examined the sensor display and then muttered, “Hello, what do we have here? And going our way, too.”
“Pressure-flow?” Dason asked.
“Yep,” Alena returned and scanned her board again. “You might want to tighten your c-bars as the sensor is showing some very intense pulses; could be an indication of a grav wave or two embedded in the flow.”
“Grav waves again,” Dason sighed. “We haven’t hit a smooth flow yet.”
“Hey,” Alena replied in a mock hurt tone. “The last one I found was pretty quiet; it only had a few bumps.”
“Uh huh,” Dason began, giving Alena a sideways glance. “If I recall right, your ‘few bumps’ almost threw you out of your restraints and headfirst into the ceiling, popped open every containment door in the sci-station, and nearly ripped the torpedo pods off.”
“Okay, okay,” Alena answered. “I admit that those g-waves were a bit rough, but still, you have to admit there were only a few.”
Dason gave her a crooked smile. “That’s true; there were only a few that almost tore the ship apart.”
Neither spoke again until Alena murmured, “Stand by. We’re coming up on the flow. Come seven degrees to port, down one.”
Dason reached out to his board, made the slight course adjustments, and let the engines wind down to a mere whisper. “Engines at idle, ready to place in standby mode.”
The Zephyr coasted along through the mountain-sized clouds until they were rocked to one side as if another Zephyr had bumped against them hard in the ship’s midsection.
“I do believe we’re in the flow,” Alena observed.
Around them, the flowing and swirling gas cloud moved like a churning river, racing past the streamlined ship in a rush of dark matter. Dason used his thrusters to bring the craft’s nose to align with the gaseous stream and placed his main engine in standby mode.
“Good, solid stream,” Alena muttered. “Steady velocity of two thousand meters a second and on a bearing of three zero. We can ride this for a few minutes and then pop out. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky and won’t have to do much maneuvering to find our Mongan playmates.”
“You best hope,” Dason muttered under his breath, “that the Mongans don’t have to do much maneuvering to find us.”
Dason checked his controls one more time before he leaned back in his chair, content to let the tide carry them through the dense clouds. “You know what Sami calls all this sneaking around, ducking in and out of the gas clouds?”
“What?” Alena answered.
“Lurking among the stars. He’s named us the Lurker Clan and has started calling Lieutenant Renn the Chief Head Lurker.”
Alena’s laugh was short. “Head lurker, huh? Well, with a little extra training I’m sure he’ll be up for the job.”
Dason watched the stream of gas and dust particles that seemed to pour up and over the Zephyr. He made a little gesture toward the windows and asked, “Do you think General Rosberg’s plan is working? Are we doing any good out here and buying the Imperium some time to get ready for the Mongan invasion?”
Alena considered Dason’s question for several moments. “Hmm, I’d say it’s a mixed bag. Physically, we’re not doing that much to the Mongans, but our harassment seems to be pulling more of their ships into the nebula and away from the Alpha Prime planet.
“It’s conceivable that if the Imperium Navy counterattacks, they could be facing that many fewer ships. I’m not sure that’s what the general had in mind, but if so, it’s working.”
“Too bad,” Dason replied bitte
rly, “that we can’t pass that along to him either in person or at least through an n-space message.”
“I know,” Alena agreed. “It sure appears as if the High Council either had him and Scoutmaster Tarracas arrested as soon as they entered the Terran system or they won’t let them communicate with anyone.”
Dason’s mouth tightened. “Which explains why we’ve not heard a peep from him since he acknowledged receiving our message about Elder Tor’al’s imposter appearing before the council.
“What worries me more though, is that we don’t know if the Sha’anay have learned that someone is masquerading as their leader and negotiating with the Imperium.”
“Not to mention the Sha’anay’s ultimatum,” Alena pointed out. “We’re running down the clock and nowhere near finding the real Tor’al.”
“Don’t remind me,” Dason grumbled. “I can’t believe that the council bought into the imposter’s demand and has ordered all Star Scouts back to Imperium space. The general could’ve ordered them into the search, but now it looks like it’s just us—”
“Rogue scouts,” Alena grunted
Dason opened his mouth to speak and then stopped. A worried expression and frown appeared on his face as he said, “Never thought of myself as being a rogue scout but in a way, I guess you’re right. What we’ve chosen to do seems to go completely against the Scout Oath doesn’t it?”
Alena shrugged in response. “Umm, I’m not sure. Remember, the oath says that we’re to obey all ‘lawful’ orders of those above us. Do you consider the council’s mandate as legitimate considering that we know it’s based on a falsehood?’
Dason thought for a moment. “I see your point but it’s still a bit disconcerting.”
“Yeah, well,” she muttered, “I don’t have any problem with what we’re doing. Especially as I suspect that there’s going to be a lot of scouts, and I mean oath abiding scouts like Scoutmaster Tarracas and General Rosberg that are going to take a very dim view of the council’s directive, too.”
Dason turned toward her, his face even more troubled at Alena’s remarks. “What do you mean?”
Alena was silent for a few moments before saying, “It just may be that it turns out that we’re not the only scouts who will become ‘rogue’ as you say.