Beyond Those Distant Stars

by John B. Rosenman

  “Some are engaged in meditation, worshipping the New Son in silent groups.”

  “They sound like sincere believers. Can't you get some of them to help settle things down?”

  Gage lowered her hands and stared at her. “They're useless, Commander, lost in mystic communion with who-knows-what. As for others like Lovejoy and Chong ... hell, half my officers are probably getting their engines tuned at this moment. As they see it, when the Emperor throws a party, you don't sit on the sidelines.”

  “We both know the Emperor didn't throw it,” Stella said. “Malek's the one. And unless your eyes were sealed shut, General, you know how he's corrupted the heir to the Imperial throne.”

  Gage winced. “Commander, let's not talk about that. If we do, I'll...” She fought for control. “The reason I've contacted you is to tell you that at the earliest opportunity I will use all my authority to arrange the investigation you want. Even if the Regent isn't interested, we have our own experts here. You'll have their complete cooperation.”

  Stella stared at her in disappointment. Was this the best Gage would do?

  Gage spread her arms. “Well? Why don't you say something?”

  “What is there to say?” Resisting the urge to smash the cen-scan to pieces, Stella leaned toward the screen. “Do you really think Malek will let you? Or that Lovejoy and some of the others won't squeal when they find out?”

  “I'll order them not to.”

  “Oh, come on, General!” she said, slapping her thigh. “Here's another chunk of reality to chew on. Sooner or later, and it'll probably be sooner, Malek's going to remember my disrespect, and when he does, my ticket will be cancelled for good. If you don't believe me, go take another look at Kolanera.”

  “You're right,” Gage conceded. “As one of the books I showed you says, ‘The insolent menaces of villains in power.'”

  “General,” Stella answered, “they stay in power only as long as we permit them.” She had a thought. “By the way, is this line secure?”

  “Yes, and your quarters too. I still have some power around here.”

  “Good.” She straightened in her chair and crossed her arms. “At the banquet I told you there might come a time when I'd have to ask you for a favor. That time is now, General.”

  Their eyes locked. Long seconds passed.

  “You're talking treason,” Gage whispered. “The Emperor would never—”

  “It's not the Emperor, it's Malek,” Stella corrected. “And even if it weren't, it would make no difference.”

  “You're asking me to defile my command, authorize an operation in direct opposition to Malek.” Gage rubbed her eyes and glanced distractedly about her office, for the first time showing serious signs of strain. “I'll be branded a traitor, despised and remembered only as an officer who dishonored her uniform by flouting an Imperial order, and never mind what he's done to the boy.”

  “Think about the boy, General, your duty to save him.”

  Gage jabbed her finger at Stella. “History won't know anything about that, or even care about the fine points. And that's not all! Though I'm not married, I've got a family.” She counted them off on her fingers. “A mother, father, and two sisters. Even if I didn't care about myself, think of what people would do to them.”

  “General,” Stella said, “this one's a bitch. It doesn't get any harder.”

  Gage rolled her shoulders, squared her chin. “Anyway, you can't guarantee you could actually beat the Slugs if I arrange for you and some crew to leave, can you? This All-Mother you mentioned, do you even have a rudimentary plan to beat her, any idea at all how you'd accomplish that?”

  “No.”

  “So it all seems very doubtful, doesn't it, that you could be the mighty hero you claim. And yet, you're asking me—”

  “In a way it's doubtful and in a way it's not, General,” Stella said. “No, I'm not certain I can defeat the All-Mother. Hell, all I have is a vague feeling that I might be able to see how I can possibly do it when the time comes. But I'll tell you one thing that is certain. If I don't make it to Loran's big show, the Empire will be flushed down the toilet bowl of history and it won't make a goddamned bit of difference what anyone thinks of you. Because they'll all be dead!”

  She fell silent, waiting for Gage to decide. Despite her last words, she knew it was a terrible decision for any officer to make. Gage herself looked chipped around the edges and no longer certain at all. Was it fair to expect Gage to make the right choice when her family was involved? Could she herself even be sure it was the right choice? She had generated this ‘fine mess’ like a spider did a web. It had come from her, been spun out of her guts and actions, and now she was caught in it. But was it sensible or ethical for her to expect Gage to see that sometimes an officer's highest duty was to disobey her orders, even if they came from the very top?

  Gage sucked in her breath and pulled back. “I can't do it,” she said. “I'll arrange for that investigation you want. Be back on-line with you soon.”

  * * * *

  After the screen winked into black, Stella sat staring at it. It was, she thought, not unlike the black hole of a singularity. The only difference was that there was nothing at all at the other end. Nothing to go to, nothing to hope for.

  Sitting in the darkness, she realized she had never been so miserable, her brave, inspiring words to George returning to mock her with all their pathetic inanity. Even the accident and its aftermath paled compared to the way she felt now. This was the absolute nadir, the floor of hell.

  Do you hear that, All-Mother? I'm beaten. I'm never going to make our rendezvous for that last dance of death. Someone else will spare you the trouble of killing me.

  But there was no answer. No spiteful response from five hundred light-years away to mock her or sting her back to life. She was alone.

  Rising, she dragged herself out of the booth, blinking against the brightness. Tessa had retracted the divider between her room and theirs. On the floor, Ulysses sat playing with padded blocks that Gage had sent over, the gaudy toy she had given him forgotten. His mother stood midway between Stella and her son, watching her anxiously.

  “Is anything wrong?” Stella said.

  Tessa's hands worried and picked at each other. “You were in there so long.”

  Stella shook her head leadenly. From somewhere, she dredged up a little spirit.

  “I'm all right.” She smiled down at the boy. “What are you doing, Ulysses?”

  The boy looked up. “Building very big blocks. Can you play with me?”

  Why not? She went over and sat down, picked up a red and green block and turned it. A. Yes. A for Averse Gage, Abstain Gage, or Affrighted Gage. But the last, she knew, was unfair. Why, though, did Gage keep her name a secret? Was there some awful truth connected to it? Did her name have some deep significance or reveal something she didn't want others to know? Puzzled, Stella placed the block in the top row and leaned back to see the word she had helped spell.

  TMOHRE.

  It was gibberish, like her life, like all that had happened. But the giggle and grin Ulysses gave her was a package that made it worthwhile. Reaching for another block, she noticed something and changed the letters’ order.

  MOTHER.

  “What do you know?” Tessa said. “You made a word.”

  * * * *

  An hour later, she rose to help put the blocks away. Suddenly she heard a sound outside the door.

  She dropped a block, fear singing fire through her body. What if it was Malek? He had ordered her death, and assassins were here now to carry it out. If so, Ulysses and Tessa could be in danger too.

  She had only a second to act, perhaps less.

  She darted across the room, knowing she must be faster than ever before, and grateful that when her death came, she hadn't been caught waiting for it in a body-cuff. As she neared the opening door, she saw a figure slip through. George.

  She ground to a halt, stabbing her feet into the carpet and falling to
one knee to avoid a collision. George looked down at her.

  “Hey, Stella, I'm glad to see you too.”

  She rose as the door slid shut. “Oh, George.” She went and put her arms around him.

  “Hey there.” She felt the soft bush of his beard on her cheek and a light kiss. After a reassuring squeeze he stepped back, eyeing her critically.

  She hoisted her chin. “I'm doing fine. How's the base?”

  “You mean Malek and his goons?” George arched his heavy eyebrows. “It's a three-ring circus. Like New Year's Eve and an Imperial coronation rolled into one. I saw Powers-he looked like he was having a fit. I can imagine how Gage is taking it. Her base could sail clear out of orbit if this celebration soars any higher.”

  Stella managed a smile at the hyperbole. “I'm glad you're here, George.”

  “I can't stay long.” He rubbed his brow. “I wanted to tell you about Jason.”

  “How is he?” she asked anxiously. “You said before there was a problem with his chem feed, that he'd had a psychotic episode.”

  “It's fine now. I got it under control.”

  She trembled. “Thank heaven.” She glanced at Tessa, who discreetly pressed a button. The divider slid across the width of the long room, giving George and herself privacy.

  George cleared his throat. “I knew that Jason's next episode would be worse, that it was just a matter of hours before he went insane. I had to act. I asked for an audience with Malek, said it was urgent.”

  Stella blinked. “You asked to see the Regent-Protector?”

  “Yes. And he granted my request. I told him Jason had barely survived a psychotic episode and that if I didn't operate, the Empire would lose an excellent jump pilot who was innocent of any offense against him. What's more, I pointed out that if he was restored to his body, Jason couldn't pilot a ship effectively anyway. Malek conceded my points and gave me permission to perform the procedure.”

  Stella felt stunned. “He did?”

  “It wasn't just logic that convinced him.” He hesitated. “Somehow he learned about your feelings for Jason. When Malek gave his approval, he was amused. He smiled and said, ‘Tell her to enjoy him while she can.'”

  Stella considered the ominous implications. “Sadistic bastard.”

  “An arrogant one too. He also said to tell you he doesn't need your experience, that he'll soon have a team of his experts examining the alien and scouring every atom of his ship to see what makes it tick. He's confident they'll succeed.”

  “Stupid.”

  “You sure there's no chance? At least he's trying.”

  “It's a huge problem, George, and he's trying to do it all by himself. He should be using Gage's men as well and most of all, me. Without my knowledge, they'll accomplish nothing. At worst, they could blow up the base.”

  George touched her shoulder. “Stella, aren't you going to ask how Jason's doing? After all, I've already performed the procedure.”

  She gasped. “You've already performed it?”

  “Yes. Wynn, myself, and a couple neurotechs did it over three hours ago.”

  For a long moment she could only stare at him. “How did it go?”

  “It went fine. He's only had ninety minutes rehab with his body, learning to use it again, but there should be no problems. He's done it before.” He paused, his eyes intent on her face. “He's waiting outside the door now,” he said softly.

  “Outside the...” She turned and looked at the door. “Jason's out there?”

  “Yes,” George said, his voice cracking.

  He walked to the door and raised his hand to press the button that would open it. Before he did, though, he turned to face her, his eyes wet with tears.

  “This one's for you, Stella,” he whispered. “Besides saving Jason, I wanted to keep my promise to help you. This is the best I can do. Knowing Malek, I doubt you'll have long.”

  He straightened. “I wanted to see that one time, just once, you got what you wanted.”

  She swallowed, seeing his tears, his naked, blasted face.

  George smiled and pressed the button. A moment later, when the door slid open, she felt as if her calm, efficient heart were wrapped in ice.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Beyond the open door, a guard stepped aside so that Jason could enter. He did so slowly, not quite sure of his body. Behind him, the door slid shut.

  Jason stopped two meters away in his Imperial uniform and they gazed at each other. She could see his chest rise and fall as he breathed.

  “Jason?”

  His mouth crinkled at the edges, then opened. “Stella?” His voice was rich and resonant.

  Her knees turned to liquid and she teetered, as if she were going to pitch over on her face.

  “Stella,” he said in alarm, “are you all right?”

  “Yes ... fine.” She held her hand up, both to ward him off and to maintain her balance. “It's just meeting you. Your voice sounds almost the same, but you're taller than I expected.”

  “I am?”

  She thought of him lying in the cryotank when she and Dr. Wynn watched him. He'd been naked. “You're as tall as Thunderheart, almost as tall as George.”

  “Is that all right?”

  “Of course!” I wouldn't care if you didn't reach my chin, she thought, though she couldn't imagine Jason like that.

  His eyes moved over her body, cataloging each flaw, each synthetic mockery of a feature. She could already see the beginnings of disgust.

  She stiffened her shoulders, stepped forward, and stuck out her hand. “Well, I'm glad you could come, Jason. Thank you.”

  His dark eyes swept down to her hand and then rose to meet her gaze. “What?”

  She pushed her hand forward. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

  “You appreciate it?” He raised a hand and ran it through his long black curly hair, almost poking his eye as he did so. “What's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me?”

  She opened her hand, closed it. “It's not that. It's just—”

  “I've dreamed of you,” Jason said. “The warm solar wind on my panels, the surge of my engines and guns ... these were all sweet. But do you know what I kept thinking of more than anything else? The one thing I would give it all up for?”

  She shook her head, unable to speak.

  He raised his arms, trembling with emotion. “The feel of you in my human arms, your lips against my own. Damn it, I was willing to fly through hell and down the All-Mother's throat for that.”

  “Excuse me, Stella.” Tessa's soft voice interrupted them as she opened the divider. “Ulysses is hungry.” She gave Jason a shy glance and moved past them with Ulysses. “We'll be back later.”

  As the door shut behind Tessa and her son, Jason moved forward, not giving Stella a chance to speak as he threw his arms around her and pulled her to him, his lips, his blood-warm lips pressing down upon her own. She stood there in his arms, passive as she'd been with George, a stunned spectator whose synthetic blood ran cold as ice.

  Then, between one heartbeat and the next, she thawed. She raised her hands and pulled him to her, feasting on his mouth, his sweet breath. She let it go on till she felt dizzy, then softly pushed his head back from hers, studying the handsome features, the straight nose, the dark pools of his eyes.

  “What are you doing?” he murmured.

  “I'm memorizing you,” she said. “I've thought ten thousand times about this moment, and I'm not going to let it get away.” She moved her hands over his face like a blind person, learning him forever through her fingertips. Her thumb lingered on a small scar below his lip.

  “How did that happen?”

  “Marion Colchis threw a stone at me when I was seven.” He moved his mouth to kiss her thumb. “I deserved it. I was being very mean to her.”

  “I don't care. If I ever see her, I'll break both her legs.”

  Laughter coursed down Jaso
n's body, ripples that swept into her and came out her mouth. The sound of her own laughter was a revelation.

  Abruptly, Jason stumbled. She reached out.

  “Are you all right?”

  “George says the body-mind reknit takes a while, so I'm a little weak. Besides, this happened my first two times.” He swallowed, studying her. “If it weren't for George, I'd be gibbering madly away in my nutri-cell by now. We owe him a lot.”

  She remembered George's tears and nodded. “More than we can ever repay. But you've tried to readapt so fast. Doesn't it usually take a couple days?”

  “Even weeks sometimes before the crossover is complete and the pilot feels fully at home again in his body.” He shifted his feet, looking at her bed beyond the cen-scan booth. “I wanted to recondition fast so I could see you, Stella. It seems we have so little time.”

  Yes, so little. No time at all, she realized, for tea and teasing and prolonged mating rituals. Raising her hands, she fumbled with the buttons of her uniform jacket and let it slip to the floor, not letting herself reconsider or question what she was doing. Then she stooped to take off her boots and stockings. Watching him closely, she stripped her shirt and pants off next, then finally her underwear, which fell softly to the floor.

  She stood there naked before him.

  Jason grinned. “Such a cute upturned nose.”

  She trembled. “It's synthetic.”

  “Oh, Stella!” Raising his hand, he gently touched the long scar on her side, which she had kept because in some small way it kept her human.

  “You remember,” she whispered. “A Scaley did it.”

  Half-comically, Jason hardened his face. “How could I forget? I'll break both his legs!”

  “George already did it for us,” she mock-chided. George again.

  A little clumsily, Jason removed his clothes. Kneeling, he kissed her scar, running his lips along its length as if to touch every molecule. She felt his tongue's moist caress, his hands on her back and buttocks. Then, to her surprise, he slipped his arms behind her back and knees and picked her up in the air. He swayed briefly.