Starhawk s-1

by Mack Maloney

  “But how can any individual be ‘nonessential?’ ” Hunter had asked their holo-images, knowing full well they couldn’t respond. “I thought we were all supposed to be part of the same thing…”

  The most spectacular part of the flight was when the BonoVox actually went through a star.

  How was this possible? As with just about everything else related to travel in Supertime, no one on board was really sure. The explorers’ holo-message to him included one of the starship’s flight engineers explaining it this way: “Much of what appears to be present in the other known dimensions does not appear to be present in the seventh dimension. Therefore, why would we have a problem going through something that is not there?”

  At the incredible speed of Supertime, going through stars that weren’t there was easier than going around them; star-crashing was simply a function of efficient transport. But the event was hardly routine.

  Whenever the massive vessel crashed a star, everything and everybody aboard the ship would glow with an intense golden aura. This luminescence lasted for just 0.0002501 second — the amount of time it took the ship to pass through the star’s other-dimensional position in space. Then everything went back to normal again. It was superquick, but there was never any doubt whenever it happened. Even before the golden haze faded away, applause and cheering could be heard throughout the ship anytime the BonoVox made a crash.

  It was early in the third day of the voyage when Klaxons began blaring throughout the massive starship.

  The noise woke up Hunter immediately. He instinctively went to his compartment’s door. It was still sealed. But on the other side he could hear the unmistakable sound of many people moving at once.

  Boots thudding along the passageway. Voices shouting through the pipes. The dark music of weapons and equipment clanging together.

  Hunter had heard such sounds before…

  He found himself wishing the door would open and allow him to see what was going on outside. An instant later, that’s exactly that happened. One moment the door was there, the next it wasn’t. It hadn’t slid open; rather it had disappeared, and then reappeared in the door slot.

  That was strange enough. But in the same brief instant, Hunter thought he saw the very faint image of a person standing right next to him. A hand passed through the space where the door had been. A voice whispered: You must see this…

  Then the door just wasn’t there anymore.

  And just as he thought, the hallway outside was filled with soldiers. They were members of Multx’s 23rd Special Operations Corps. Each trooper looked enormous. Their complex dark gray battle suits added about a foot to their height and at least a hundred pounds to their bulk. Each soldier was a self-contained war machine. His suit had plug-ins for various weapons. Each carried a large, tubular ray gun slung from his back, as well as a holster carrying two or three small blaster pistols. Life-support tubes ran up from each man’s breastplate into the oversized bubble-top battle helmet. Two tiny dishes on top of this helmet provided for communications.

  The soldiers trooped past Hunter, paying him no attention, eyes forward, chins up.

  They were real warriors, he thought. Determined. Brave. Smart…

  He had served with men like this before…

  The line of troopers finally disappeared through a hatch at the end of the passageway. The Klaxons were blaring at full peak now. Hunter could hear the sound of more footsteps moving on the decks above and below him. He had no doubt what was happening here. These soldiers were marching off to war.

  He began walking down the empty passageway. The line of troopers had gone through a hatch to the right. Hunter’s instincts told him to keep walking straight. He reached a large doorway, opened the hatch, and stepped through.

  He found himself on a glassed-in balcony; it looked out on an immense chamber deep within the ship.

  What he saw here was unfathomable at first. There were thousands of troopers floating within this chamber. Each one was dressed in the same elaborate battle gear. There were also hundreds of small spacecraft hovering in rows near the top of the vast hall. These craft were long, glassy, and tube-shaped.

  They had six gangling legs hanging off of them, and a huge bubble nose. For some reason, they were known as “bugs.”

  Though it seemed very chaotic at first, Hunter soon came to realize the soldiers were floating up to these craft and climbing aboard. They were all moving very fast, yet no one was bumping into each other, or even coming close. As soon as a small troop shuttle was filled with soldiers, it would shoot off through a huge portal in the chamber wall, passing through an invisible membrane that protected those inside from the dangers of outer space. The whole affair was highly choreographed, highly drilled, well executed. The transports seem to hold about a hundred troops each. They were being spit out at a rate of about one every second.

  Only after all of the transports had left the chamber did the Klaxons finally calm down. Hunter moved farther down the balcony and came upon a huge observation blister; it looked out onto the vastness of space beyond. From here Hunter could see the planet of Vines 67 below. It looked like a huge green ball dotted in a few places with patches of shimmering blue water.

  The BonoVox was in a high orbit above the planet. The troop transports were lined up in columns just below the massive warship, obviously poised to invade this green world. Hunter looked to his left.

  Another starship was parked in an orbit nearby. To his right, another ship came into view. Then another.

  And another. He counted a dozen of the magnificent ships around the planet, and those were just the ones he could see.

  This fleet was made up of Empire units occupying the already liberated planets in the Sileasian System.

  The ships were identical in design to the BonoVox, but they were all about a third smaller in size, leaving no doubt which vessel was the flagship here. They were spitting out hundreds of troop transports as well.

  Several thousand of the shuttles were lined up in huge phalanxes around the planet. Hunter guessed the invasion force totaled at least half a million men. Just getting them all together and in place was an astonishing feat of complexity and maneuver. They appeared ready to pounce at any moment.

  Yet they were obviously waiting for something.

  That’s when another ship appeared. It was different from the rest. Though built in the Empire’s standard triangular design, it wasn’t as sleek as the other starships, nor did it bear the multitude of planet-blasting weapons the other vessels carried. This one had a huge red bubble just aft of its forward flight compartment. This odd ship was hanging close to the BonoVox’s starboard side. It was not spewing out troop carriers.

  Hunter studied this ship closely. It had a ghostly air about it, yet to his eyes, it was a familiar one as well.

  Then it hit him. This starship was similar to the one sticking out of the ground back on Fools 6. What had Erx and Berx called it? A Kaon Bombardment ship?

  Not a moment later, the red dome atop the strange ship began to glow. It became very bright very quickly. When it seemed it could get no more intense, a beam exploded from this cupola and traveled to the jungle planet below. It hit a spot just north of the equator, an area of exceptionally thick flora.

  Suddenly it seemed as if a quarter of the entire planet were bathed in crimson. The thousands of troop transports took this as their cue and began falling down toward the planet. Hunter could see explosions on the planet’s surface. The glow from the neighboring ship intensified. He stared deep into the red dome and felt a chill go through him.

  “Comrade? What are you doing here?”

  Hunter spun around to find a huge individual standing right behind him. He was one of the BonoVox’s small army of on-board security troops. As Hunter tried to spit out an explanation, the security man raised a handheld device, pointed it at him, and pushed a button.

  A moment later, Hunter found himself locked inside another compartment.

  This one
had bars he could see.

  6

  The BonoVox was in the throes of a saturnalia.

  The entire ship was high on something. Food, wine, and other exotic intoxicants were available throughout the vessel, and anyone not on duty was permitted to indulge in any vice of their choice. This was no more true than inside Zap Multx’s enormous stateroom. Here, the upper echelon of the BonoVox’s officer staff had gathered to revel and feast.

  The starship had something to celebrate. The assault on Vines 67 had been an unqualified success. With the regular Empire Forces troops holding the flanks, Multx’s highly trained soldiers had gone into the key bandit strongholds and quickly eliminated them, destroying all of the opposition’s weaponry and razing their base camps. No prisoners were taken. The victory had been so complete, the bandit groups on the two remaining outlaw planets were already asking for cease-fire terms.

  So Multx’s 23rd Special Operations Corps had done in a few hours what Loy Staxx’s men had been unable to do in nearly a year. As a result, Vines 67 was in the Empire’s fold, and Multx’s fortunes had gone up a notch. The key to the victory had been the proper coordination between Multx’s hunter-killer battalions and the Kaon Bombardment ship. This was an option not afforded to Loy Staxx simply because he did not have the connections that Multx had. This alone spoke volumes about the inner workings of the Empire’s military elite.

  Multx’s victory had been so swift and total, the BonoVox had already left the Sileasian System and was now streaking Inward. The star commander himself was said to be extremely pleased and had sent a very upbeat report back to Earth to herald his success.

  So why then had he invited Erx and Berx to his victory party without the requisite bottle of wine as a gift?

  That’s what puzzled the two explorers now as they made their way forward from their billets in aft Uppers. They had watched the battle for Vines 67 unfold from the top-side observation deck; it was the perfect place to follow all aspects of the fighting. And even though they were veterans of similar actions in the past, they had never seen such ruthless efficiency in combat as displayed by Multx’s corps this day.

  The speed by which his special operations soldiers had eliminated their opponents was frightening. To say victory had been expeditious was a vast understatement.

  So why, then, no bottle of Venusian wine with their invite? The explorers could not fathom a reason for such a breach of festivity protocol, especially from an old friend such as Multx.

  Even more inconvenient, Erx and Berx had to walk the entire length of the ship to reach the celebration’s location, something that could take an hour or more. Usually the ship’s command officers would send a transport beam back for those they didn’t want to inconvenience. No such beam arrived for Erx and Berx.

  About halfway to their destination, they passed a long line of troopers who had returned from Vines 67 just before the BonoVox began heading Inward. These men were in the same combat suits as they’d been wearing when they embarked on the lightning-quick campaign. But there was something different about them now. They were covered with dirt, mud, green soot, and no little blood. Their weapons appeared used and depleted. Even more telling, the men themselves looked drained. There was little evidence of the spirit the unit was known for prior to battle. These men looked grim, exhausted — disillusioned, even. To an uninformed eye, the question was obvious: If the soldiers had just won the recent engagement, why did they look so downcast?

  But Erx and Berx didn’t have to ask.

  They knew why…

  The explorers finally reached the front of the ship and were ushered into Multx’s stateroom.

  The place was packed with the high officers of the ship, several hundred in all. There was lots of wine, lots of vivid dress uniforms, lots of holo-girls. People eating, people drinking. High-pitched background music provided the sound track. The air smelled thick of bravado.

  But all was not right. Standing alone in the far corner was Multx, the star commander himself. He looked awful. His face was drawn and pale. His normally razor-sharp eyes were bleary. His substantial shoulders were sagging.

  Erx and Berx quickly got drinks and then approached him. One look told them all was not well. But before they could say a word, Multx spoke instead: “Do you know where your friend Mister Hunter is at this moment?”

  The explorers looked at each other and shrugged.

  “In his billet, I hope?” Erx replied uncertainly.

  “Nay, he is in the lower brig,” Multx said in a stern whisper. “For transgressions that carry the ultimate penalty, I might add.”

  “The brig!” Erx cried, a bit too loudly. “What has he done?”

  Multx yanked them deeper into the corner. They did not have the protection of a hum beam now.

  “He was caught in a highly restricted area of the ship during the operation against Vines 67,” Multx said, again in a whisper. “He saw it all: from the battle formations before the attack, to the Kaon Bombardment ship in operation, to the beginnings of the invasion itself. He observed more than a half-dozen state secrets in process. Greater souls have been dispatched for less.”

  Erx and Berx were both alarmed and confused.

  “But how was he able to leave his billet to do such things?” Erx asked. “The plan was to keep him sealed in for the rest of the voyage.”

  Multx took a shallow breath. “We have no idea how he was able to get out. And neither does he. Or so he says.”

  A small crowd of officers drifted by them, trailed by a bevy of holo-girls. Multx allowed them to pass.

  “What is Hunter’s fate now?” Berx asked worriedly. “Certainly you can’t execute him.”

  Multx wearily shook his head.

  “It is only that my troops so handily won this engagement that I am able to go easy on him,” he replied.

  “Few know of his indiscretion at this point. They are too busy with other things.”

  He waved his hand to indicate the roomful of inebriated officers.

  “And I can maintain our façade,” Multx went on. “But only if nothing else happens. I just hope Mister Hunter is smart enough to keep his lips sealed about what he saw.”

  “He is smart,” Erx said quickly. “That much we know.”

  “And he will remain in confidence about this matter,” Berx added. “We will guarantee it.”

  Multx wiped his brow with his uniform sleeve. He seemed pale.

  “I don’t want to regret taking him along with us,” he said wearily. “But if our scheme to get him into the Earth Race goes awry, not only will the happy days we dream of not be forthcoming, we might have some answering to do to my superiors as well…”

  “All will be well, my brother,” Erx tried to reassure him. “It’s only by risk that our rewards might be great.”

  Multx gulped his drink and grumbled: “Let’s pray that is so. Still, I think it’s best that our feathered friend stay in the brig for the remainder of the journey Inward. Only then can we be sure he’ll find no further trouble to get into.”

  It pained them to do so, but the explorers raised no objections to this. Though a jail cell was not much different from his original billet, Erx and Berx felt responsible for Hunter’s plight. But it would be wise not to argue against Multx’s decree.

  Time to change the subject.

  “We, too, watched the battle closely,” Erx told him, trying to pump Multx back up again. “We could tell it went just as planned. Your troops were sterling in action. Your strategies, flawless.”

  Multx leaned back against the wall and rubbed his tired eyes.

  “All true,” he told them. “But this fight was not pretty, my brothers. Far from it.”

  Erx and Berx fell silent. What was the matter here? Where was the eternally confident Multx? The ever-boastful Multx? Multx the warrior? Multx the conqueror? The man known as the most-connected officer in the Space Navy? Certainly the incident with Hunter was not all that was weighing on him.

  Finally Erx le
aned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper.

  “I must tell you, old friend,” he said to Multx, “I’ve seen you looking better. Is something else troubling you?”

  Berx jumped in: “You’ve just won a major engagement, Zap. So it did not go as ‘cleanly’ as you hoped — war is not supposed to be clean. We all know that. Why then so low?”

  Multx hesitated for a moment. Rarely did anyone speak to him on such a personal level. But he knew his friends were right.

  “I cannot answer why I feel this way,” he finally revealed, looking down at his hands. “Because I do not know myself.”

  He paused to take a breath. It was almost painful to watch.

  “I realize I have just eliminated a problem that has been plaguing the Empire for too long,” he went on.

  “And did it quickly, too. Therefore I should be deliriously happy. Yet I am not, because I can’t get rid of this notion that something bad is about to happen. To me. To this ship. To all of us.”

  “An intuition, you mean?”

  “Something like that,” Multx replied.

  The star commander looked up at them, his face more ashen than before.

  “And I cannot tell you, comrades, just what an unpleasant feeling it is…”

  7

  Fly down to the dry sea today…

  Yes, that might be a good idea. See the south side of the sky for one last time and then hurry back. The false sunset looks blood red today, especially from fifty thousand feet. Bury the throttles, lean back in the cockpit, open the canopy, and stick his arms out. Now you’re really flying, man. Helmet off. Belts unbuckled. The beams from the crimson giant wash over the face, warming whatever it was beneath the skin. Can the embers of a dying star actually touch the soul? Can they penetrate and open any memories stored there?