When Stars Fall (The Star Scout Saga Book 4)

by GARY DARBY

  He took a step toward Jadar; one bony hand outstretched toward the scout. “Otherwise—”

  Jadar’s laugh was sharp in reply as he cut Peller off. “And have you ambush us? No, thanks. Once they have the Kolomite, they’ll let you know how the exchange will take place.”

  Peller started to speak, but Jadar stopped him off with a forceful wave of his hand. “That’s the deal, take it, or leave it. Just remember, you’re still in the crosshairs of that ion cannon, and if Elder Tor’al is not speedily returned to his people, there is nowhere in this galaxy you can run that the Sha’anay won’t find you.”

  Peller’s countenance became hard as stone, and his eyes were hot embers seething in pure hatred at Jadar and Dason. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he spat. “Deal. You have one week, no more. After that, if I don’t have the Kolomite, you—”

  “Yes, yes,” Jadar retorted in a tired manner. “I get it. Now, give the command, two Zephyrs, free passage, out of the system.”

  Peller’s face was like stone, his eyes showing pure rage, nevertheless, he gave a sharp nod to the man standing next to him who tapped on his communicator.

  “X-Ray base, this is Colonel Rovinsky, two Zephyrs cleared from the Great Hall outbound. Do not interfere with or detain. I repeat, do not interfere with or detain. Rovinsky, out.”

  “Good,” Jadar replied. “Now, while my teams are loading up, that cannon stays on you. Once they’re done, I’m going to step into that Zephyr with my finger on the fire control.

  “I’ll stay there until I get an n-space message that my people are out of system and safe. You sir, will remain right where you’re standing. If I don’t get that message, well, as you said . . .” He smiled, and his voice trailed off.

  “And what’s preventing you from just flying out of here?” Peller demanded in a seething tone.

  “I only asked for clearance for two Zephyrs now didn’t I? Once they’re clear, I’ll come out, unarmed.”

  Dason could see by Peller’s tight lips and quivering hands that the man was close to the point of uncontrollable rage. “Do it!” Peller’s words were small explosions that echoed against the nearby buildings.

  Jadar turned and ordered, “Everyone load up.”

  He spun away, and loped over to General Rosberg, whispered in his ear for a few moments, and then handed him something. Though in pain, Rosberg nodded and squeezed Jadar’s shoulder before Jadar turned and came back to stand next to Dason.

  The second Zephyr landed, and everyone aboard except Brant offloaded and made a dash for the other grounded Zephyr. Dason’s team hurried into their own craft leaving Dason and Jadar to stand alone facing Peller and his henchmen.

  Jadar turned to Dason and led him away from the Faction Master until they were out of earshot. “Uncle Jadar,” Dason began, his voice choking as he struggled to speak.

  Jadar grasped Dason’s shoulders, fiercely whispering, “Listen to me. Do you actually know where Deklon is?”

  Dason’s answer was quick. “Yes, at least I think I do.”

  “Then do what you must to find him,” Jadar answered. He met Dason’s stare. “And you know there’s no Kolomite, right?”

  Dason nodded in response. “Then you also know why I’m doing this,” Jadar answered.

  Dason glanced over at Peller, whose eyes were suspicious and wary as he watched the two of them. “I—I believe so,” Dason stammered.

  “Good,” Jadar said. “I’m counting on you to make this work. This might be our one chance to rid ourselves of this monster.”

  “You know you can count on me,” Dason replied, his eyes meeting his uncle’s warm look. “It’s just that—”

  Jadar quickly interjected, “Listen, we don’t have much time, and I need to tell you something.”

  His mouth worked like a grown man trying hard to get the words out, but having a difficult time with what he wanted to say. “I’ve tried to tell you this several times, and now it looks as though our time has run out.”

  He reached out, brought Dason close, and murmured, “I know what I’m about to tell will be a complete shock, but whatever you do, keep your expression completely impassive. I don’t want Peller to suspect anything more than I’m bidding you farewell.”

  Pulling Dason closer in a tight hug, he whispered in his ear. Dason went rigid and started to jerk his head back, but Jadar held him close.

  Jadar whispered, “It’s true, ask the general, he knows everything. Now, you’ve got to go before Peller changes his mind.”

  “But—” Dason began, his voice raspy and hoarse. “I can’t—”

  “You can, and you must,” Jadar insisted. “I know it’s not fair, but for both our sakes and the lives of our teammates, please, go.”

  Dason’s hands clung to Jadar’s strong arms for just a second, his face contorted with anguish before he spun away and sprinted to his ship. He stopped for a moment to gaze back at Jadar, who gave him a last wave as both entered their respective craft.

  Seconds later, Brant rushed from Jadar’s vessel and entered the other waiting Zephyr, leaving Jadar alone to face Peller and his bodyguard.

  Dason slammed himself into the pilot’s chair and checked his flight board. Shanon already had the craft powered up and ready for an immediate boost-out.

  She laid a gentle hand on Dason’s arm. “It’s a very brave thing your uncle is doing, Dason. I’m so sorry we have to leave him behind.”

  Wiping a hand across his misty eyes, Dason pressed on the controls, causing the little craft to rise from the ground and accelerate straight up toward Luna and the waiting SlipShip.

  Choking on the words, Dason replied, “We’re not leaving my uncle behind.”

  Taking a shuddering breath that was almost a sob, he said, “We’re leaving my father behind.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Star date: 2443.110

  Geneva, Switzerland, Adiak Peller’s Chateau

  Rampaging, storming through the ornately, expansive, and lavishly expensive room Peller’s hand lashed out, flinging a priceless Ming dynasty vase off one gorgeous teak table where it smashed into a hundred, small, jagged cream- and blue-colored fragments.

  An irreplaceable treasure destroyed in one moment of uncontrollable rage. But Peller was beyond caring, beyond anything but seething, volcanic rage.

  He stomped on the broken pieces and ground them into dust under his heel. He cursed the Marrel name, his incoherent bellows of absolute wrath reverberating from wall to wall.

  To have his hated enemy outfox and outwit him was as if someone had ripped open his abdomen with a flaming hot sword and seared his insides.

  Even the fact that he now held Jadar Marrel hostage was of no consolation.

  Only the pain that he would inflict on Jadar in the coming hours would bring any semblance of a soothing balm to his tortured mind and soul.

  The communicator’s constant chimes broke through the hate and fury that wrapped him in their tight emotional bondage. He whirled around and pounced toward his compu and communications desk.

  Slamming a fist down on the surface, he bawled out, “What is it!?”

  The image of his lieutenant appeared midair. She brushed back a strand of straw-colored hair. “The Mongans have answered. They accepted your proposal.”

  Peller’s intake of breath was a sharp hiss. He stood stock-still until he straightened and demanded, “Where and when will the exchange take place?”

  “Two days from now and at the location you specified,” she answered.

  “Perfect,” he replied brusquely. “Have my ship ready in one hour. I’ll give the pilot the coordinates when I’m aboard.”

  She gave a curt nod, and Peller cut the transmission. He sat down in his contoured chair and considered what he was about to do.

  Peller licked his lips as his eyes gleamed in anticipation of what he was about accomplished. I may have lost the SlipShip, he thought, but this—this more than makes up for it.

  Leaning back, a
n evil smile raised the corner of his lips. Once he had the Mongan devices, he would assume his rightful place as emperor of all he surveyed.

  Not just as the head of the Faction, but as the Imperium’s complete and total master. Moreover, there would be nothing and no one to stand in his way, ever again.

  Because if any tried, not only would they die, but so would their star and their planet.

  He could picture it in his mind, a new empire born from the ashes of pulverized planets and shattered stars and he—he would be the absolute and complete master of this new empire.

  There would be no one to oppose him. No one who would even dare or think about challenging Emperor Peller. Not a single soul, anywhere.

  His lips turned up even further. They would call it a Golden Age but he would rule it with an plas-steel fist for gold was too supple, too malleable for his purposes.

  Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. He was close, so close and in one short week, he would have the two things he desired most.

  Deklon Marrel and his stolen Kolomite plus the Mongan’s nova device.

  Together, they would give him ultimate power over the Imperium.

  He laughed long and hard, staring upward at his ornately painted ceiling. It had once occupied some religious temple and now it was his to admire.

  It depicted God reaching down with one finger to touch a human male. Peller stopped laughing and sighed as he gazed at the painting.

  Was this how God felt, he wondered, staring at the mural. Being all-powerful?

  If it was, it was a glorious feeling to be a God.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Star date: 2443.110

  Aboard the IntrepidX in Interstellar Space

  General Rosberg’s heavy breathing filled the IntrepidX’s surgical recovery room. His gray, ashen face was a reminder of how close they had come to losing him on their race away from Earth.

  However, thanks to the skill of the Intrepid’s surgeon, assisted by Doctors Stinneli and Baier, it now appeared that he would live to walk more trails.

  The general opened his eyes and peered at Dason. “Report, scout.”

  “Sir,” Dason began, “Lieutenant Renn wanted you to know that Elder Tor’al is trying to contact To’ran, but there’s no response from the Sha’anay, yet.”

  “Thank you,” Rosberg rasped out. “Let’s hope that he gets through, and soon, or our worst nightmare imaginable will come true.”

  He eyed Dason who stood with a confused expression on his face. “Something else on your mind, scout?”

  Dason was slow to reply, “Yes, general.”

  Inhaling deeply, he, exhaled slowly. “Before we boosted out, the man that I thought was my uncle told me that he was my . . . father. He also said you would tell me the truth.”

  Dason held himself very still, trying to control the flood of emotions, the anger, the elation, the joy, and the sorrow that now coursed through his mind and body.

  “General, was that actually my father we left behind?”

  Rosberg closed his eyes, reopened them, and gave Dason a little nod. “Yes son, I’m afraid it was.”

  “I—I don’t understand,” Dason stammered, his knees suddenly going weak. “Why—”

  “He didn’t tell you until now?” the general asked.

  Dason was numb, unable to speak. He stood on wobbly legs and felt his whole world turning inside out. He managed a slow nod in response to the general’s question.

  Rosberg gestured toward a nearby chair. “Sit before you spiral down to a crash landing.”

  Dason sat down, and Scoutmaster Tarracas, who had stood nearby, helped the general as he raised the bed so that he could face Dason fully.

  “He wanted to tell you, in the worst way,” Rosberg replied. “But in all honesty, he wasn’t sure what it would do to you. Remember, by the time he got you back to Earth, you believed that you had watched your fellow novices die along with a score of other scouts.

  “You also had made contact with two sentient alien races, one of which had left unworldly images in your mind; you nearly died several times, and you suffered some horrific wounds.

  “On top of that you learned that the aliens that you had rescued and protected were in fact, civilization destroyers, a race that not only had the power to destroy whole star systems but had done so hundreds of times.

  “Not to mention that an alien warrior had given his very life for you, a fellow scout had been sent out by my chief of staff to assassinate you, and you discovered that your uncle, who you thought was dead for all these years, was alive.

  “And then, you seemed to have convinced yourself that your fellow scouts hadn’t died—a story that, frankly, was met with more than a little skepticism at the time.

  “Son, the truth was that he was afraid that you were walking on emotional eggshells, and he didn’t want to crack the egg and leave you a basket case.”

  Rosberg let out a little breath. “He was going to tell you, but at what he considered to be the right time. Only, that right time never seemed to come around.”

  Dason licked his lips and eyed the general. “But why the charade?” Dason asked. “Why has he pretended to be Jadar Marrel all this time?”

  Rosberg let out a long sigh and nodded. “I suppose it’s all right to tell you now.”

  Dason leaned forward in his chair, desperate to hear what the general had to say. “I appreciate hearing anything you care to tell me.”

  Rosberg cleared his throat and took a sip of water. “You already know part of the story, so I’ll do my best to put the rest of the puzzle pieces together for you.

  “It actually starts just before the Veni operation. You see, Deklon, your father, had reached his one-hundredth starside mission and faced a decision. It’s officially called the Last Trail option.”

  He gave Dason a weak smile. “Or, as some folks call it, ‘just another fork in the trail.’ At that time, the scout can choose to remain on active duty or opt out of the contract.

  “Scouts who decide to leave can choose between their Last Trail being a sweetheart mission, or going with their team for one last op; whatever that turns out to be.

  “You were a little guy back then, and your dad had decided that watching you grow up was more important than walking among the stars.

  “So Deklon elected not to remain on active duty, and Star Scout Command issued him orders for his Last Trail, a mineral survey on Aldebaran Four.

  “Warm beaches, crystal clear topaz ocean, a night sky full of lacy comets, and not a vermin in sight to disturb the tranquility.”

  He grunted in satisfaction at recalling his own tranquil days on Aldebaran Four. “A sweet trail, for sure. However, right after he got those orders, he found out that Star Scout Command had tagged his team for the Veni mission.

  “As you know, Veni was a noncatalogued planet, which meant that the scouts who planeted would go in with only what information had been gathered from drone recons, mech rovers, and so forth.

  “They weren’t going in stone-cold, but still, with such limited intelligence, it made for an extremely dangerous mission.

  “Deklon’s team consisted of Star Scouts Bethany Simms, Gamain Honsa, Singh Ky, and André Coulier. They’d been together for a long time, far longer than most.

  “Your dad had forged them into an elite unit. Not a lot of teams, then or now, could match their mission record. At the time, they were considered to be the best of the best.”

  He drew in a deep breath, winced just a bit and asked, “You recognize the name Bethany Simms?”

  Dason gave a little nod. “Alena’s—I mean Lieutenant Romer’s mother.”

  “Right,” Rosberg replied. “Your father was torn; he felt a deep sense of responsibility toward his team, but there was you and your mother to consider.

  “I guess he figured he’d made it through ninety-nine previous missions safely, so what was one more? He turned down those Aldebaran orders and chose to go with his team to Veni.”

&nbs
p; The general shook his head before he seemed to stare off into space. “How many times have parents made a decision that they’ve regretted, not just in the moment, but perhaps for a lifetime? That would describe your father.

  “His decision has had repercussions that are still reverberating to this day, and not just within your family. It’s a heavy weight that he’s carried for a long time, especially concerning you and your mother.”

  Massaging his wound site, Rosberg spoke gruffly. “I was the brigade commander for the operation. Unbeknownst to me, and literally just hours prior to our jump-off for Veni, Jadar showed up at Camp Rogers on Canopus Six, our assembly site.

  “Deklon later told me that Jadar had never, ever done anything like that before, but the two of them took a couple of hours of liberty to grab some food and chat. When they got back to Deklon’s temp quarters, Deklon began to get dizzy and faint.

  “He said that the last thing he remembered was Jadar saying, ‘Sleep well, brother, see you on the flip side.’”

  Rosberg shifted himself to get more comfortable and started again. “Deklon woke up three weeks later in the hospital, not as Deklon Marrel but as Jadar Marrel.

  “He found Jadar’s identity papers in place of his own, and a note from Jadar that said, ‘You know what to do next, have fun, and I’ll contact you when we’re back’.”

  Rosberg shook his head. “It didn’t take much for Deklon to figure out that his fool-hardy identical twin brother had taken his place on Veni.

  “Why? Because Jadar loved his brother, loved his brother’s family, and he wanted him to be able to go home to that family, safe and sound.”

  “No greater love hath a man than this . . .” Tarracas murmured.

  “Eh?” Rosberg muttered. “Yes, I suppose so. The doctors told Deklon that he’d had a violent reaction to some unknown substance that had put him in a coma, darn near killed him, in fact.

  “It was clear that Jadar had spiked Deklon’s food or drink but obviously didn’t know that your father would react as he did.”