How Far the Stars (The Star Scout Saga Book 5)

by GARY DARBY

  Dason hung his head for a moment, feeling as if he were letting the general down. “I’m very sorry, sir, I’ve run the images through my mind over and over, but there’s just nothing there to—”

  “Son, don’t beat yourself up,” Rosberg replied in an understanding manner. “Without what you’ve done, we’d be totally in the dark on this. You’ve given us a fighting chance, which is way more than we had before.”

  He paused and then asked, “Any chance you can head those other two Mongan warships off?”

  “Doubtful, sir,” Dason answered truthfully. “They’ve got almost a day’s head start on us and it would be pure speculation on their course to the Helix.”

  “Lieutenant,” Rosberg returned, “I’ve got to think about what to do with your information and where to take it.

  “With the Imperium in turmoil, the loyalty of the military split and various star systems trying to break away, the Mongans couldn’t have caught us at a worse time.”

  His loud sigh was audible through the communicator before he spoke. “We’re probably on our own on this one. In the meantime, I want you try to contact Teng Rhee aboard the SlipShip. He should either be with Elder Tor’al or know how to communicate with him.

  “The Sha’anay need to know this information as much as we do. Who knows, maybe they’ll be able to help, but since we have so little time, we can’t wait for them—we’ve got to act on our own.

  “For now, except for Elder Tor’al, do not share what you have told me with anyone else, understood?”

  “Yes, sir, I understand.”

  “Now, I have a question for you. Do you remember the Faction that you turned loose on Alpha Pegasi Three?”

  Dason furrowed his brows in a puzzled expression, and with a questioning air answered, “Uh, yes, sir, I do.”

  “By any chance,” Rosberg asked, “do you have any idea of where he headed once he boosted off-planet?

  “Lieutenant Renn tells me that he sabotaged the man’s vessel, and it’s highly doubtful that he made it far, but he doesn’t have any idea of where the man headed.

  “Brant thinks that since you were around the Gadion, that you might have some idea of his course. I know this sounds odd, but it’s important that we locate him.

  “ In fact, it’s imperative that we find him. ”

  “Sir,” Dason returned, “in all honesty, nothing comes to mind, but let me bring Lieutenant Romer into the discussion, maybe between the two of us we can dredge up something useful.”

  Dason turned, motioned Alena forward, and rapidly explained the general’s request. “Do you recall anything that would give us a clue to his whereabouts?” he asked her.

  Alena sat back in her padded chair and put a closed fist to her mouth in contemplation. Her eyes got a faraway look, and she ran a finger over a memory shard that sat imbedded in the control console.

  She tapped on the shard with a finger several times before she turned to ask, “Wait a minute, what did he say? Something about going someplace?”

  Dason furrowed his eyebrows as his mind focused on remembering the Faction’s last words . . . there’s only one place he could be, the same place I’m headed, only you’re too stupid to figure it out.

  Jerking his head up, he whipped around to Alena. “He said he was headed to the same place where they were taking Elder Tor’al.”

  Dason and Alena stared at each other before they said together, “Earth!”

  Dason hit the comm's control, “General!” he exclaimed excitedly, “We may have it. If we’re right, he set a course to Earth.”

  “Are you positive?” Rosberg demanded.

  Dason glanced at Alena, who gave him a firm nod.

  “Yes sir,” Dason replied confidently.

  He brought up a star chart and studied it for several seconds. “Sir, from our present location, using the Mongan ship, we could be at the Pegasi system within twelve hours.”

  “That beats us by at least half a day,” Rosberg stated. “Lieutenant, fire it up and make for Pegasi. But listen, you need to be extra cautious. Riding around in a Mongan vessel could attract the wrong kind of attention real fast, especially if there are any Sha’anay in the area.”

  “Understood, sir,” Dason replied.

  “We’ll meet you there,” Rosberg stated. “If you find the scumsucker first, take him in custody, and contact me. We’ll arrange for a rendezvous point. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dason replied.

  “Redline that ship if you have to, lieutenant, time is of the essence. Rosberg out.”

  Dason turned to Alena and directed, “Contact Stinneli, tell him that as soon as we’re aboard, set course for Pegasi Three at max speed. But first, I’ve got to try and reach Elder Tor’al.”

  He reached over to the n-space communicator and entered the code for the SlipShip. “Zephyr Four, Lieutenant Thorne, calling Teng Rhee of the SlipShip SlipSter.”

  He waited several seconds before repeating the message. Then, a grainy holographic image of Teng Rhee appeared.

  “Go ahead, lieutenant, we’re reading you,” Teng Rhee answered.

  “They must be really Out There,” Alena whispered, “that’s a pretty weak signal.”

  Dason quickly asked, “Sir, is Elder Tor’al with you?”

  “No,” Teng Rhee replied, “he’s meeting with the Korha’pec.”

  “Sir, it is vital that I speak with the elder immediately.”

  Teng stared at Dason with a questioning expression before he gave a quick nod. “I’ll see what I can do. By the way, earlier today, the council confirmed Elder Tor’al, and they just finished the Rite of Ascension.

  “Tor’al is the new St’ort He’scher of the Sha’anay. You sir, are the human adopted son of the Sha’anay Grand Elder. How’s that for being one-of-a-kind?”

  He paused to let Dason take it all in before he said, “I’ll try and get him here as soon as I can. Rhee out.”

  Dason puffed out a little breath in response. “Wow, Elder Tor’al is the leader of the Sha’anay. I sure hope this link lasts, Rhee’s image was fading in and out.”

  “Yes,” Alena replied, “and it would appear that you finally have a friend in high places. Or should I say, a close relative in high places. Can I have your autograph?”

  Dason gave her a sheepish grin along with a little shove of the arm. “Go on,” he returned, “Elder Tor’al is a friend to all the scouts, not just me.”

  “Friend, yes,” she answered, “but you, Dason Thorne seem to hold a special place with him. As the Sha’anay say, you two fought together.”

  Leaning closer, she smiled and said, “Maybe he’s getting you ready for the Rite of Ascension. The first human to be the Grand Elder of the Sha’anay.”

  This time, Dason’s elbow nudge wasn’t so small, bringing a giggle from Alena. “Cut it out,” he growled. “We got better things to do that plan out my future.”

  The minutes dragged on, and Dason was beginning to fret that either Tor’al was unable to speak with them or they had lost the fragile communications link with the SlipSter.

  Bordering on desperation, he was about to open the communicator again when he heard, “Teng Rhee to Lieutenant Thorne.”

  Dason all but slapped the communicator and exclaimed, “This is Thorne.”

  A holo-image of Elder Tor’al and Teng Rhee formed above the pilot console. Dason gave Tor’al a broad smile. “Elder Tor’al, thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

  One side of Tor’al’s mouth lifted, and he gave a little bow to Dason. “I am always willing to speak with you, Dason, as I am with all my children. But I was led to believe your message was most urgent.”

  “Yes, elder, it is,” Dason responded. “General Rosberg has asked that I share some vitally important information with you, but only with you.”

  At that, both Teng Rhee and Alena slipped away. Once he assured that he was speaking privately to Tor’al, Dason explained how he had obtained the information and detailed the Mon
gans’ dire strategy.

  Concluding, he said, “General Rosberg is formally asking for assistance from the great Sha’anay nation. We will do what we can, but unfortunately, under the circumstances that may not be enough.”

  Elder Tor’al had remained silent throughout Dason’s explanation but when Dason finished, Tor’al’s countenance was a mask of intense anger.

  “Monsters I have called them before,” he spat out, “and monsters they are. They are lifeless, soulless creatures who have no respect for the lives of others.”

  He drew himself to his full height. “I will take this to the Korha’pec for it is indeed a matter for all of the Sha’anay. Rest assured that it is my greatest desire to stop the Mongans from their unspeakable act.”

  He raised a hand in farewell. “I will see you soon, my son, until then, take care.”

  “And you, elder,” Dason replied before cutting the link.

  Sitting back, he stared as the image faded away. To himself he muttered, “Let’s hope the Sha’anay feel about this the same way we do. If not . . .” He didn’t finish his ominous thought for the consequences were too awful to contemplate.

  Turning in his seat, he called out to Alena, who sat far back in the troop compartment.

  “Let’s go, LT! As the general said, we’ve got a Faction scumsucker to catch!”

  Eleven hours later, Sami, who had taken over the piloting duties of the Mongan craft to let Stinneli rest, turned to Dason. “Passing through Pegasi’s heliopause.”

  “Thank you,” Dason answered. “Take us to sublight and begin sensor search. Concentrate on a cone extending out from Pegasi Three at mark one-one-four.

  “We’re looking for a pretty small ship, even smaller than a Zephyr, so we need to take any metallic returns bigger than a doghouse as significant.”

  Sami smiled at Dason’s remark. “Got it, we’re looking for an oversized, floating doghouse with metal shingles.”

  Jadar came to stand beside Dason and asked, “So, why is this one Faction so important?”

  “I’m not sure,” Dason replied. “The general didn’t explain, but his tone said that we needed to find this guy and fast.”

  He touched his communicator and asked, “Alena, Shanon, are you ready?”

  “We’re powered up,” Alena answered, “standing by for bay doors opening.”

  “Sami,” Dason ordered, “open the doors.”

  Several minutes later, Alena reported, “We’re out and on-station.”

  “Continue to pace us for now,” Dason instructed. “And keep a sharp eye on your sensors.”

  Grimacing, he said out of the corner of his mouth to Jadar, “I wish we had a half dozen Zephyrs so that we could saturate our search area.”

  “Don’t limit your wishing,” Jadar returned. “Wish big, at least a Navy fleet’s worth. Nevertheless, I understand your problem.

  “If your target was able to maintain his bearing outbound, without any deviation, and without any drift when he lost power, you still have a search area bigger than Sol.”

  “Plus,” Dason pointed out, “we’re acting on the assumption that he’s a decent pilot and was aligned correctly when he applied full boost. If not, we could spend days and days searching for him.”

  Sami turned to remark to Dason, “How about minutes and minutes?”

  Dason whirled at Sami’s comment. “You have something?”

  Sami pointed at his sensor grid. “How about a big doghouse?”

  Dason slapped at his communicator. “Zephyr, we’ve got a return on the sensor. It’s on a tangent at three-two-two; distance is twenty-thousand kilometers.”

  “Got it, we’re headed out,” Alena returned.

  A half hour later, Shanon’s voice came across the communicator, “Dason, we’ve got a Star Sprite clipper that appears adrift.”

  “That’s it!” Dason yelped. “Stay on his tail, we’re on our way.” He clapped Sami on the back. “Push it, Sami; that’s our guy.”

  Five minutes later, Dason stared at the vu-screen and nodded in satisfaction to himself. “Alena, Shanon,” he called through the communicator, “there’s no doubt that’s our ship. See if you can raise him on the universal.

  “Tell him he’s got a choice, he can keep drifting, or he can set his craft down in our hangar and come out of his ship.”

  “Stand by,” Shanon replied.

  A few minutes later, Shanon responded through the communicator, “You’re not going to believe this, but he wants to make a deal.”

  “Uh uh,” Dason replied with a laugh, “and how did that work out for us last time? Did you tell him who we were?”

  “Only that we’re Star Scouts,” Shanon replied.

  “Be more specific,” Dason ordered. “Ask him if he remembers a particular Star Scout and the embryonic Sliver Aals that he failed to remove?

  “If so, then tell him that he’s aboard, and his current duty station is at the weapons console. Not only that, he’s got his finger on the laser button and we’re on weapons free status.”

  Shanon giggled and declared, “With pleasure.”

  A minute later she reported, “He’s had a change of heart and is more than willing to accept our invitation. He only asks that we keep Sami away.”

  Dason glanced at Jadar who gave him a nod of approval. Dason clapped Sami on the shoulder and directed, “Sami, open the bay doors for our guest.”

  He then said to Shanon, “See if you can raise General Rosberg and let him know that we have our man.”

  Several minutes later, Dason, Jadar, and Nase stood waiting outside the Faction’s ship with weapons drawn. The Star Sprite’s little airlock door slid aside and out stepped the Gadion with his hands in the air.

  Dason motioned for him to come down. As he came out of the airlock’s shadow into the light, Dason felt his uncle give a sudden start. He turned to see his uncle staring open-mouthed at the Faction.

  He started to ask his uncle what was troubling him, but decided to wait until later. Turning his attention back to their captive, Dason could see from his expression that the Faction recognized at least Dason.

  Dason ordered, “Nase, check him.” As Dason and Jadar trained their weapons on the Gadion, Nase frisked him for hidden weapons or communicators.

  After a thorough going over, Nase announced, “He’s clean.”

  Dason stepped forward to stand directly in front of the mercenary. “I can see that you remember me, but just to refresh your memory, I’m Star Scout Lieutenant Dason Thorne. I’m arresting you for assault and the attempted murder of a Star Scout.”

  The Faction grunted and asked, “On whose authority? Certainly not yours. In case you didn’t get the word, you scouts haven’t any authority anymore, none whatsoever.

  “So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll charge up my packs, and do it right this time, and let me go. Otherwise . . .”

  “Otherwise, what?” Dason countered angrily. “You don’t scare me, Faction, and you best remember that onboard this ship is the scout you tried to murder, and he’s just itching to meet you, but this time it’ll be on his terms.”

  The Faction grew very still, and his eyes flitted between the three scouts. Dason motioned with his weapon and ordered, “March.”

  Under Nase’s watchful eye and drawn weapon the Gadion moved across the hangar bay floor. Dason hung back with Jadar and whispered, “What is it? You took one look at that guy and acted as though you’d seen a ghost.”

  “For an instant,” Jadar replied quietly, “I thought I had. In fact, I still think so.”

  “I don’t understand,” Dason murmured.

  Jadar’s step faltered just for a moment as he stared at the Faction’s back. “You’re not going to believe this,” he whispered, “but that’s Kavon Franklin, or rather, Kavon Peller.”

  Dason stopped in his tracks. “But he’s dead,” he sputtered.

  “That’s what I thought, too,” Jadar mumbled and turned to face Dason. “But either he’s been reinca
rnated, or that’s his clone.”

  He stopped and an odd expression crossed his face before he laughed lightly. “Or his twin.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Star date: 2443.115

  Aboard the Mongan Ship, at the Rendezvous Point

  Sliding aside with a soft hiss, the doorway to the Mongan ship’s bridge opened and in strode General Rosberg, Scoutmaster Tarracas, and Shar Tuul.

  Rosberg’s eyes lit on Jadar Marrel, and his face cracked into a huge smile. The two came together, and Rosberg grabbed Jadar in a bear hug.

  After a moment, the two parted, and Jadar and Shar repeated the scene. “Jadar, you old Trail Blazer, you!” Shar exclaimed, his voice growing husky. “Welcome back, scout, welcome back.”

  “Shar,” Jadar replied, his own voice cracking with emotion, “it’s great to see you, and it’s great to be back.” Glancing down, he asked, “How’s the leg?”

  “Doing fine, Jadar, couldn’t be better,” Shar answered. He leaned back to look Jadar over. “But you have lost some weight. We’re gonna have to do something about that.”

  “Believe it or not,” Jadar replied with a little laugh, “but I can’t seem to get enough S-rations in me. Hated’em at one point, but they’re sure tasty now.”

  Shar laughed in reply. “I’m afraid that I’d have to be marooned for a few years too before I’d ever get to that point.”

  He clapped Jadar on the shoulder. “When we have time, we’ll catch up, I promise.”

  Tarracas stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “Captain Marrel, welcome home, I am Scoutmaster Israel Tarracas. I was—”

  “Deklon’s battalion commander,” Jadar finished for him. “He spoke of you often, Scoutmaster, and with the highest regard.”

  “Thank you,” Tarracas replied modestly. “And I think of your brother in no lesser terms.”

  “And,” Jadar went on as he glanced sideways at Dason who stood respectfully to on side, “from what I hear, the Scoutmaster of a certain novice scout who had one heck of a no-notice exam.”

  Tarracas smiled, turned and muttered, “Indeed, and in certain ways, it seems that this particular exam will never end. Though is not that the way of life, an unending stream of tests, large and small?”