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

by GARY DARBY

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Star date: 2443.115

  Aboard Peller’s Star Dreamer Yacht

  Leaning back from the comm's console, Peller let a smug, satisfied smile stretch his thin lips. Moments before, he had entered the last alphanumeric sequence that would start the activation sequence on the nova device and send it speeding toward Sarpens.

  And in a few minutes after that, the star would unleash all of its energy in one colossal, terrifying nova.

  And, that would be the end of the Marrels and their beloved Star Scouts.

  Of course, there was the added bonus that the star’s death would be an extraordinary, unforgettable, and compelling herald to every planet in the former Imperium of the enormous power that he now wielded.

  A power that none of them could hope to match and which signaled that if they didn’t capitulate to him, their star could well be next.

  He turned to his captain and ordered, “Take us out of here at maximum speed. We don’t want to be anywhere close to this location in a few minutes.

  “Ensure that our escorts pace us, and notify Admiral Rovinsky to withdraw his ships to a safe distance.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied and turned to his helmsmen. “Engage the drive, prepare to go to hyperlight on my order. Your course is mark three-one-zero.”

  “Coming to course three-one-zero,” the woman replied, “drive engaged.”

  While the captain spoke with Rovinsky, Peller rose from his chair and paced the bridge in slow steps, his hands behind his back.

  If anyone had dared to watch, he appeared to be a man in a deep, reflective mood, albeit a self-satisfied mood. Peller’s thoughts flashed back over the recent events.

  Except for the minor setback with his Faction fleet, he mused, it would soon turn into an excellent day.

  No, he thought, and his lips turned up into something close to a snarl, a grand day, indeed.

  “Sir,” the captain called over to Peller, “Admiral Rovinsky has acknowledged the message and is withdrawing his fleet.”

  Peller gave him a dismissive wave and continued pacing before he abruptly stopped. “Captain, put the device on the screen, I want to watch it for a few seconds before we jump to n-space.

  “Yes, sir,” the lean man answered and switched on the vu-screen. He brought up the image of the two asteroids sitting amongst the other giant space rocks.

  Peller took a few steps to stand closer to the screen, and exulted in the thought that at that moment in time, no one in the history of humankind had ever wielded such power as he.

  He was more than giddy with power, he was now power itself, and no human in the known universe could stop him, not now, not ever.

  He stared at the image, swaying from side to side in anticipation of watching the asteroids begin their death journey toward Sarpens. Seconds passed, and then more seconds. The seconds became a minute, then two.

  Peller started to become edgy. He took several steps toward the screen, his anxiety rising at the thought that the device should have started moving by now.

  His edginess turned to a tight feeling in his chest and stomach. His face became taut, and his lips pursed together in hard lines.

  “Something’s wrong!” he bawled. “They should have started moving by now.”

  He flounced over to the comm's console, his fingers pounding the keys as he reentered the startup sequence code. He turned back to the vu-screen, his brow notched in an anxious furrow as he waited.

  Nothing happened.

  The asteroids stayed in the same position.

  He rubbed a hand over his sweat-marked upper lip. He was so intent on the vu-screen image that at first he didn’t hear his ship’s captain. The man had to repeat, “Sir, I said we’re ready to go to hyperlight.”

  When Peller again didn’t respond, the man called out louder, “Sir, we need to jump to hyperspeed.”

  Peller’s mind was a whirl of indecision and angst. What if the device had somehow malfunctioned? Dare he chance going back?

  He spun back to the communicator and ran a tongue over dry lips. Would his Faction lieutenant answer his call, now that he had tried to send the device onward with her trapped inside?

  His hand hesitated over the console before he punched in the transmission code to the console on the asteroid. He held his breath, waiting for her to reply, but there was no response and Peller knew with a sinking feeling that she wouldn’t answer.

  He also knew with certainty that somehow, in some way, she was involved in the device’s failure. That was the only possible solution.

  With a sudden heart-stopping comprehension, Peller realized the fatal flaw to his plan.

  His lieutenant had trusted him only so far. She must have had deep suspicions that he might not want her around as a witness to how he had acquired the star destroyer.

  And she had acted on those suspicions and devised a way to stop the machine if it activated and she had no way to escape.

  A cold fury enveloped him as he stared at the silent console. At the captain’s loud, “Sir! You might want to see this,” he snapped his head around and then stalked over to the vu-screen.

  The image on the screen moved just to the right, wavered for an instant, and then solidified. Peller sucked in a breath and staggered forward.

  A scout ship! Floating near the device!

  Peller didn’t hesitate for an instant. “Captain,” he ordered, “send five of our escorts back. I want that ship and everyone on it captured.”

  Pausing for a second, several thoughts flashed through his mind, the chief among them his own safety and sudden vulnerability, before he ordered, “Go to hyperlight, and make for the rendezvous point with the rest of the fleet.”

  His breath was a hiss. “It would appear that our work for this day is not yet done.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Star date: 2443.115

  Inside the Nova Device

  Holstering his weapon, Dason let his shoulders and head slump forward with his hands on the now quiet console. He stayed that way for a moment before he turned with a broad smile to his companions.

  “I think we did it. It’s not going anywhere anytime soon. For now, our scout mates are safe.”

  TJ and Sami returned his grin with their own. “Good job, LT,” TJ declared.

  Dason shook his head at them. “Wasn’t me, it was all of us.”

  Sami took a few steps forward and motioned toward the female Faction. “Yeah, good job and all that, but what exactly did she mean that we’re all dead, anyway?”

  Dason stood upright and stared at the woman, who glared back at him with hard-set eyes. “Good question, Sami,” Dason replied.

  Turning to the woman, he wondered, “Just what did you mean by that crack?”

  “Forget it,” she snapped. “You’ll find out soon enough. He’ll find us, and when he does . . .”

  “Who?” Dason asked mockingly. “Do you mean Adiak Peller?”

  Her eyes showed momentary surprise, to which Dason replied, “You Faction are as arrogant as the Mongans. You think you’re the rulers of the universe and no one can stop you.

  “I got news for you. You’ve been stopped. And that includes your so-called Supreme Leader.”

  With rough hands, he reached out and pulled her away from the control board. He shoved her against the nearby stone-cold wall. “Sit. And don’t move.”

  Over his shoulder he ordered, “TJ, Sami, keep your weapons on her. She moves so much as a centimeter from that spot, stun her.”

  He switched on his suit communicator. “Nase, give me a status update.”

  “I’m back on the Zephyr,” Nase replied. “We might have communications available in a few minutes.”

  “Great,” Dason answered. “Keep at it.”

  He paused and then asked, “Shanon, status?”

  “Just call me the human space buoy,” she replied in a light voice. “Give me the word, and I’ll start beeping away again.”

  He smi
led at hearing her voice. “And doing an awesome job of it, no doubt.”

  In a rush of words, he went on, “Alena, Nase, Shanon, great news. We’ve managed to deactivate the nova device, but we’re not out of the woods just yet. It’s a safe bet that the Faction still has those heavies inbound.”

  He turned and glanced over at the female Faction. “Though we’ve got it deactivated for now, there’s just a chance that if the Faction gets their hands on it, that they’ll be able to restart it. We need to find a way to destroy it before they get here.”

  Dason jerked upright when a new voice suddenly spoke over the communicator. “Would you consider a second option?” it asked. “What if instead of destroying it we could use it to our advantage?”

  Dason’s mouth gaped open for a full second before he yelped, “Scoutmaster! Is that you?”

  There was a soft chuckle from Tarracas. “Yes, lieutenant, we picked up your distress beacon on our return run into the system, and we’ve been monitoring your transmissions for the last several minutes. So, are you willing to try another option?”

  “Of course,” Dason replied. “What are you suggesting?”

  “When I was on the Mongan warship,” Tarracas answered, “I studied their symbol language, and I’ve developed a simple compu program that might be useful in determining how to engage the propulsion and navigation system on the device.

  “Enough, perhaps, that we might be able to move it away from the Sarpens system. Maybe bring it aboard the SlipShip.”

  “Get it out of the Faction’s hands,” Dason nodded in understanding. “I could certainly live with that.”

  “Good,” the Scoutmaster responded, “ETA is two minutes. Tarracas, out.”

  Dason then asked, “Shanon, Nase, Alena, did you catch that?”

  “Roger,” they replied, with Shanon adding, “Can I come home now, please?”

  “Of course,” Dason answered with a smile. “Head for the Zephyr. See what you can do to help Nase and Alena. We’ll wait here for the Scoutmaster.”

  Minutes later, Dason heard Tarracas say, “Lieutenant, I’m coming across, I’ll be at the front door in a moment or so.”

  “Understood, sir,” Dason replied and turned to the others. “Suit up.”

  Dason walked over to the pressure hatch and scanned the controls. Satisfied that he didn’t need help from their captive to open the pressure door, he instructed TJ and Sami, “Once we’re pressure tight, move her to the back, and I’ll open the outer door. Keep her covered, I don’t want any surprises or interruptions.”

  TJ and Sami nodded in understanding and finished checking their suit seals. “Tight?” Dason asked.

  “Good,” they both answered. Dason turned to see that the Faction female hadn’t begun to suit up.

  She wasn’t moving, and her eyes were staring at the nearby wall. Dason snapped his head around. The communication console!

  A light blinked on and off. Someone was trying to contact the woman. Dason brought his eyes back to find himself and the woman staring at each other.

  Dason gave a nod toward the wall and spoke through his external communicator, “Care to talk to your Supreme Leader? Explain how his once powerful nova machine is now nothing more than a hunk of rock floating in space?”

  “No, I wouldn’t!” she snapped.

  “Fine,” Dason replied. “I’m opening the outer doors in thirty seconds. You want to try breathing vacuum, go right ahead.

  “From my viewpoint, your life isn’t as important as saving the lives of those scouts on Sarpens Two. You might want to think about that.”

  He turned away and walked over to the inset control board. He waited a few more seconds and then pressed on the appropriate control knobs.

  Seconds later, he felt a tiny tug on his suit as the air exchange system sucked the air out of the room to be held in storage until it was needed to repressurize the chamber.

  He glanced over and saw that the Faction member had just finished sealing her suit and started her oxy-generator. Dason smiled at her and in return got an “if looks could kill he’d be dead a thousand times over” glare.

  Sami and TJ gave her a small shove toward the back of the room as the pressure door slid aside. Floating just outside was Scoutmaster Tarracas. With a little wave, he moved forward until his boots clamped down on the smooth metal floor.

  Seconds later, Dason had the door closed and had started the atmospheric re-pressurizing process.

  “Welcome aboard, Scoutmaster,” Dason said. ”They’re over here.” He led Tarracas to the two Mongan consoles. After a minute, Dason flipped back his helmet, as did Tarracas.

  Tarracas was silent as he peered at the Mongan symbols with an intent expression, starting at one end of the dark gray console and working his way toward the other end.

  He took out a handheld compu and entered a number of inputs. Dason kept quiet, not daring to interrupt the man’s intense concentration.

  After a minute or so, Tarracas read the output screen on his palm-sized computer and then sighed with an air of resignation. He turned to Dason and gave a faint shake of his head.

  “You and your team had best clear out, return to your Zephyr and then place your craft aboard the SlipShip. I’ll contact Mr. Rhee. Once you’re aboard have him withdraw to a safe distance.”

  “Safe distance?” Dason asked in a puzzled tone. “But we stopped the nova sequence.”

  Tarracas nodded in agreement. “Yes, that’s true, but if I’m reading these symbols correctly, there is not only a startup procedure for the propulsion system, there’s also a detonation sequence for the Kolomite.”

  He put both hands on the console and peered at the alien markings. “Unfortunately, my program isn’t deciphering several symbols. It well could be that instead of firing up the propulsion system, I’m going to detonate the Kolomite, instead.”

  He swiveled his head to stare at Dason. “And if that happens . . .”

  “You can’t stop it?” Dason questioned.

  Tarracas shook his head emphatically. “It doesn’t have a fallback procedure, once the clock starts, there’s no stopping it.”

  Dason turned to Sami and TJ. “Helmets on,” he ordered before he motioned to the female Faction. “You, too.”

  He took several steps to stand close to Sami and directed, “Once you’re aboard the Zephyr, head for the SlipSter. We’ll wait for your signal before we start pressing buttons. Got it?”

  Sami nodded in solemn reply while TJ asked, “You’re staying here? But—”

  “TJ,” Dason responded in a firm voice, “no ‘buts’ on this one. I need for you to follow orders this time and get yourselves and the SlipShip out of here in case—well, just in case.”

  He reached out to place a tight grip on their shoulders. “There’s still one more fight, remember? And the general is going to need all of you for that one.”

  He hooked a thumb toward the Faction member. “Make sure she gets locked up tight.”

  Sami turned and gave the woman a wicked grin. “Don’t worry, boss, she’s not going anywhere, especially back to her vermin friends.”

  “Good, now get out of here,” Dason ordered and turned back to the Tarracas. “Sir, helmet on, I’m going to open the pressure door.”

  Dason flipped his own helmet over his head and waited for it to solidify before he strode to the pressure lock controls. “Everyone tight?” he asked.

  Seeing that everyone was ready, he once again went through the depressurization process. He watched with solemn eyes as Sami and TJ with the Faction female held tight between them jetted off toward the nearby Zephyr.

  He closed the doors, repressurized the interior, and paced back to join Tarracas. Pushing his helmet back, the Scoutmaster eyed him and said, “Lieutenant, you should be with your team. This takes only one scout, you know.”

  “I know, Scoutmaster,” Dason replied. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to walk this particular trail with you.”

  Tarracas met Dason�
��s eyes and his countenance softened. He laughed aloud as he slapped Dason on the shoulder. “General Rosberg was right,” he admitted with an amused expression. “The scouts that I produce indeed have an independent streak. You and your team are living proof.”

  Before he could continue his communicator blared, “Scoutmaster, this is Teng Rhee.”

  “Go ahead, Mr. Rhee,” Tarracas answered.

  “Trouble,” Teng returned. “We’ve got lots of heavies inbound, and there’s no doubt of their course. They’re headed right at us.”

  “ETA?” Tarracas asked in a tight voice.

  “They’re going to have to slow down once they hit the asteroid field,” Teng answered. “So my best guess is ten minutes, or less.”

  “What about the Zephyr?” Dason asked.

  “She’s matching orbits now,” Teng returned. “But it’s taking a little longer than normal as she has only thrusters to maneuver with.”

  “Understood,” Tarracas replied and then outlined their situation.

  He paused and then ordered in a steady voice, “Mr. Rhee, as soon Team Thorne is aboard, you are to retreat to a safe distance. Make contact with General Rosberg and let him know about those inbound bogies.”

  “Will do,” Teng replied.

  He hesitated before saying, “Scoutmaster, I prefer to take the positive side of this. Once you get the propulsion system up and running, what course are you going to take so that we can rendezvous with you?”

  Tarracas and Dason eyed each other before Dason said, “It’s a fair question, Scoutmaster; after all, we may just get it right you know.”

  A small smile raised Tarracas’ mouth at the corners. “That’s true, isn’t it?”

  With that, he pressed on several of the Mongan symbols, and a holographic star chart appeared over the console.

  Tarracas narrowed the image to their slice of the cosmic sky and scrutinized the hologram before he spoke through his communicator, “Mr. Rhee, we’ll be on a heading of two-two-five mark one-six. Let the general know that as well, will you?”

  There was a pause and then Teng Rhee replied approvingly, “I like it, and so will the general.”

  He paused and then said, “The Zephyr is aboard and we’re headed out. If you’re going to make it work, now’s the time, our incoming playmates just hit the rim of the asteroid field.