STAR'S HONOR (THE STAR SCOUT SAGA Book 3)

by GARY DARBY

  “Well,” she answered slowly, “there are a number of various uses for nanoplasam, other than SimLife molding, most notably for artificial prostheses.

  “In fact, today, if you were to lose an arm or leg, you’d get fitted with a prosthetic molded from nanoplasam and the embedded nanocircuitry is so precise and sophisticated that, over time, it ties in with your nervous system as if you’d never lost a limb.”

  Scratching at her chin, she mused, “I’ve been told that the technology with these prosthetics is getting so good now that even Star Scouts who’ve lost two or more limbs are being allowed back in the field to walk the trail.

  “Well, at least on the more routine stuff like topo surveys, eco-classifications and such on cataloged planets.”

  She gave a little shrug. “It used to be that Star Scout Command only authorized a scout who had lost only one limb to go back Out There, but now it’s two.”

  “Still,” she deliberated, “from what I read, the demand for nanoplasam isn’t so great that it would warrant a production center way out here that could compete on the open market.”

  She pinched her lips together and lifted her head to stare at the hologram. “But if the Galactica is right, then these folks aren’t seeing their nanoplasam make it to the open market which could only mean one thing for it to be profitable.”

  “Single source buyer or user,” Anyar stated. “Using it for very specialized purposes not found on the open markets.”

  Bianca turned her mouth down in a frown. “That would be my first guess, too. However, the Galactica didn’t have any information on whether their nanoplasam is exported or not, or if it’s bought solely by one entity.”

  She frowned while saying, “Though nanoplasam brings an excellent price on the trade markets, it doesn’t appear that they have any production facilities that use the product locally, nor are they shipping it to the inner worlds.

  “So, that begs the question—why do they produce it and where does it go? When you throw in the fact that we know that the Faction has ties to this planet, it lights up my radar, that’s for sure.”

  She shook her head and her frown turned into a dark scowl. “Though I haven’t the foggiest what the Faction could possibly be doing with the stuff.”

  “So,” Anyar said, “you’re thinking that we should pay Lacville a visit and not just for the med facilities?”

  Bianca replied in slow tones, as if she were thinking about each word before speaking. “Yes, the injured do need medical treatment.

  “But I’m still trying to wrap my head around why that Faction leader would take Tor’al to an isolated world like Marsten’s, even if it’s a Faction rat hole.”

  She shook her head. “But the thing is, it’s a small rat’s nest. From everything I know about the Gadions, they’re supposed to have much larger operational centers.

  “In fact, the rumors are that they even have a couple of planets under their control. You’d think that with a prize like Elder Tor’al, that’s where they’d head.

  “Not some backwoods, barren, two-bit world that wouldn't last more than an hour if the Imperium put a task force of Navy Marauders doing orange slices pole-to-pole around the planet plus a battalion of Space Marines down on the surface to mop up.”

  “You think that Faction thug wasn’t being straight with us?” Dason asked. He gave Bianca a wan smile. “Or, as Sami would say, he’s led us on a wild geese chase?”

  “Or, maybe into a trap?” Anyar pointedly questioned.

  “Could be both,” Bianca sighed, “for all I know. But it’s the only lead we have for Elder Tor’al so we don’t have much choice but to go down and take a look.”

  Her eyes turned hard. “But if that sewer sludge has misled us, or put our necks into a trap, I might forget I’m a Star Scout officer and turn him over to A’kan for a few minutes, just to see if he sings a different tune.”

  “And what if he actually doesn’t know?” Anyar pointed out. “Just gave us that information as a way to get away from the Sha’anay?”

  “Then, Anyar,” she sighed, “I don’t know, I really don’t. Not unless we get some serious help from the Imperium but at this point that doesn’t look too promising, does it?”

  Dason noted the slight resignation in her tone and observed, “You don’t sound too hopeful, ma’am.”

  “Sorry,” she answered. “I don’t mean to sound that way, but the mere fact that we’re trying to find one person in a pretty big cube of space is a little daunting, even if he’s an extraterrestrial, and an oversized one at that.”

  “I understand,” Dason said with a slight nod. “But still, as Scoutmaster Tarracas used to say, ‘Space is wide, space is deep—”

  “And we,” Bianca said along with him, “are but a infinitesimal bit of organic matter in a vast intergalactic sea of stars and galaxies that stretch out practically to infinity.”

  Together, they finished, “But never consider your life as infinitesimal, rather consider it to be as majestic and beautiful as the universe itself.”

  Bianca blinked hard several times before saying gruffly, “You’re right. He had such a tremendous respect for life, especially for those who lived honorable lives, that he’d want us to try, no matter the odds.”

  “He and Elder Tor’al are much alike,” Dason said. “If they ever get a chance to meet, they’d be great friends, I’m sure of it.”

  Anyar cleared his throat and said, “Uh, have you two ever thought about taking that on the road?”

  “Take what on the road?” Dason questioned.

  “You know, where you start off with that little saying from your Scoutmaster and then the captain chimes in and you two finish with a flourish.

  “Have you ever thought about adding music to it, maybe something with a big crescendo leading up to a grand finale when you get to the part about majestic lives—”

  “All right,” Bianca growled, “knock it off, sergeant. Just because your Scoutmaster couldn’t wax poetical isn’t our fault.”

  She turned and smiled at Dason. “He’s just jealous, don’t pay him no mind. I happen to know his Scoutmaster was all work and no play. Very dull.”

  “I won’t,” Dason acknowledged but grinned up at Anyar. He turned to point at several smudges on the hologram of Marsten’s World that marked the larger settlements.

  “So, what do we do?” he asked. “March into town and start asking if anyone’s seen a very large alien that’s a cross between a grizzly bear and a human?”

  “If we were an army, that would work,” Bianca answered. “But no, Brant and I worked out a navigational plot that’ll put us near the town late at night. We’ll set down, and send in a small party to find the medical facility.

  “Hopefully, there won’t be too many folks stirring about. We’ll get the injured taken care of and after that—well, we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

  “Would be nice,” Anyar offered in a dry voice, “if someone from the command came back with a more definite response to our call for assistance, other than a simple response that they received our transmission.”

  “I know,” Bianca practically sighed. “Even a ‘Sorry, but you’re on your own,’ would be nice.”

  She screwed her mouth to one side and ran a hand through her hair. “I suspect that things must be in a real uproar right now, and Star Scout Command has more on its plate than it can handle.

  “I’m not sure anyone thought that after all this time of being Out Here that our First Contact would turn into a possible fight for survival.”

  She reached over, turned off the hologram of the planet and instead flipped up a holo showing texts, diagrams, photo digi-plats, and sim-videos.

  “Here’s the bio and environmental specs for Marsten’s World. You two study up. Marsten’s has a few large animals, such as Sand Hoppers, Dune Diggers, and Desert Porpoises that congregate around the oasis areas.

  “They’re harmless to humans but there’s a really ugly beast called a Dune Masker th
at burrows into the sand, looking all the world like a small dune. You come walking by and it nails you with two scorpion-like stingers.

  “Two steps and you’re dead.”

  She pointed to one digi-plat that showed what looked like a thin piece of white wood. “Not that I want to meet either, but for my money, this nasty little critter is worse than a Masker.

  “The Galactica has it labeled as the Langorian Sliver Aal. It seems to be the mother of all leeches, except that instead of sucking blood from the outside, it has the nasty ability to rapidly burrow into the body, wrap itself around a major artery, like the aorta and—well, you get the picture.”

  “Slow, painful death,” Anyar mumbled, “versus quick, fairly painless death.”

  “That’s how I see it,” Bianca replied.

  She glanced over at Dason with raised eyebrows. “And speaking of Scoutmaster Tarracas, as he would say, ‘Out There, danger is no respecter of size, it makes no difference if it is the Gigantasaur you meet or the Langorian Sliver Aal, both can kill.’”

  She leaned back into the chair. “In the meantime, while you two bone up on Marsten’s eco-systems and such, I’m going to study the topography.

  “Who knows, maybe they have some nice, cheap beachfront property for sale.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Star date: 2443.082

  The Alpha Prime Planet

  Thrusting his hand up in the age-old symbol for “Halt!” Jadar Marrel brought his Star Scout team to a standstill. He jabbed his hands out to each side and immediately, the veteran scouts took cover, their weapons out, ready for the first sign of trouble.

  In the early morning dawn’s soft light, the scouts had moved shadowlike along the perimeter of a narrow meadow that lay at the base of a set of high, rocky cliffs.

  The concentric rings of tiny, needle-like leaves of the field’s tall bushes threw wavy, irregular shadows onto the short grass. Now, as one, the scout team melted into those shadows and lay silent and still under the overhanging branches.

  They had done it so quietly and seamlessly, that hardly a leaf was disturbed nor could anyone have heard their breathing even if the person stood within a half-meter of the scouts.

  Kneeling against a spindly, purple and rose-colored bush, Jadar turned toward the slight breeze that cooled his sweaty brow and caused the nearby brush’s purplish leaves to rasp quietly together.

  “Lieutenant Staley,” he whispered into his comms, “we’re a hundred meters out, are we in the clear?”

  “Stand by, sir,” Staley replied.

  A few moments later, Staley said, “Sir, your back trail is clear.”

  “Roger, we’re coming in.”

  In a crouch, Jadar stood and motioned for his team to move ahead. After a few minutes of stealthy pacing, they passed by the sentinel scout who waved them through.

  Ducking low, the scouts moved under the rock overhang that marked the entrance to the small wind- and rain-carved grotto that served as their home base.

  At least for now.

  Jadar turned to his team to say, “Good job, scouts. Get some chow in you and turn in for some sleep. Be ready to move out again at dusk.”

  With quick nods and a mumbled, “Yes, sir,” the six scouts trudged to the back of the rocky limestone rock formation for some much-needed food and rest.

  After a short while, Shar Tuul and Lieutenant Staley made their way into the grotto and joined Jadar. “How’d it go?” Shar asked.

  Slipping out of his torso vest, Jadar pitched it to one side and leaned back against the rock wall. Running a hand through his sweaty, short hair, he said, “The complex is larger, more activity, and another Mongan ship landed.”

  He poured some water from his vest pouch into his hands and splashed it against his face, ridding himself of some of the dust and grit from his eyelids and scratchy beard.

  With a little scrap of torn-off uniform, he dried his face, took a long swig of water and settled back. Lieutenant Staley held out a small piece of field ration. “Thanks,” he said as he accepted the food and took a bite.

  Chewing quickly and swallowing, he ground out with scowl, “And there’s a lot more of their dogs running around, too. A lot more. It’s getting harder to get close to the site.”

  He held up a blood-stained bandage that was wrapped tight around his forearm. “A lot harder.”

  “Speaking of getting close . . .” Shar remarked with a concerned expression as he eyed Jadar’s wound, “I’d say that’s a mite too close.”

  “You want me to take a look at that, sir?” Staley offered.

  “No, thanks, LT,” Jadar replied. “Vlad did me good and the InstaHeal is holding up.”

  He turned to Shar. “Another ship set down overnight, too. Only this one stayed put instead of transiting outbound like the others.”

  “If it remains,” Shar remarked, “That makes three of their ships parked at their complex.”

  “And who knows how many cruising overhead,” Jadar remarked. “My guess is that those we saw lift off are on close-in patrol duty, which makes me think that they may have even more in high orbit doing sky watch.”

  He reached down to unseal his field boots, massaging his feet as he mused in a reflective voice, “At least that’s how I would do it, but then again, I’m thinking in human terms.”

  Taking a deep breath he muttered, “But then again, the one that set down tonight might be the same one that we’ve seen coming and going the last several days.

  “To tell you the truth, they all look identical to me. No distinguishing features to tell one apart from another.”

  “You’d think,” Shar grunted, “that they’d have the decency to put some markings on their ships so that us spies could tell one from another.”

  “I’ll let them know you’re sentiments,” Jadar snorted, “the next time I go calling. I’m sure they’ll put your idea right up there as their highest priority. Right next to blowing up the universe.”

  “You do that,” Shar smiled. “Let me know how you make out.”

  Staley, who had been listening to the light banter between the two senior scouts, piped up to say, “But it does makes sense, sir, what you said.”

  “What makes sense?” Shar quipped. “My idea that they should put markings on their ships or Jadar dropping a suggestion in their suggestion box?”

  “Neither of those, sir,” Staley replied, a little flustered. “Colonel Marrel’s notion about how the Mongans are probably beefing up their off-planet defenses.

  “After all, they must figure that their biggest threat would come from interstellar space, not from here on the planet.”

  Shar rubbed several fingers over his dirty face. “That complex, Jadar, you said before that you thought it was some sort of mining operation. Are you still thinking the same?”

  Jadar gazed at his ration, took another small bite, resealed the pouch, and placed it into one of this vest’s side pockets to save for breakfast. After a quick swallow, he said, “I am, more than ever. You wanna know why?”

  “Do I have to play twenty questions,” Shar asked, “or are you just gonna tell me.”

  Jadar smiled, “Too tired to play that game. No, I know it’s some kind of mining ops because they’ve started to dig.”

  “They have?!” Shar blurted and sat straight up.

  “Yeah,” Jadar replied, “but I admit, it isn't really what you and I think of when we picture digging a deep mining hole in the ground. We humans do it real noisy like with big precision lasers, rock-busters that can chew up an asteroid, excavators ten stories high and the like.

  “These fellows have what look like little spider robots scooting all over the ground. Nevertheless, they’re moving dirt, a lot of it and pretty fast, too.”

  Shar leaned forward. “Seems pretty clear now that you’re idea was spot on. Since we know there’s a Kolomite deposit close by, and that’s where the Mongans planted themselves, that has to be the answer.”

  Jadar nodded in agreement
. “I’m all but certain that’s what they’re after and why they’re pouring so many resources onto this planet.”

  He laid his head back against the smooth wall, fatigue lines evident around his mouth and forehead. He peered upward at the dark ceiling and pondered aloud, “Who knows, this planet may be full of Kolomite, the veritable grandmother of all lodes.

  “If it is, and our hypothesis is correct that it’s Kolomite that they use to gut a star, that would certainly explain the continued buildup of their forces and capabilities.”

  With a deep frown, he brought his head down to peer at his two companions while saying, “But if that’s it, they sure seem to be going at it real slow.”

  “What do you mean?” Shar asked.

  “Well,” Jadar replied, “think about it. Like I said, that complex is bigger, but not by much since they chased us out of the nebula. It’s like the Mongans add a piece here, a piece there, but not all that fast.

  “Me, if I were sitting on top of a planet-wide storehouse of Kolomite, I’d have my mining operation up in no time. Pull out all the stops, go for broke, not spare any expense or resource.

  “I’d have a fleet of ships cordoning off this planet from ten light-years out clear down to the surface. But I don’t see a sense of urgency in their operation.”

  He scratched at his head. “Of course I’m thinking the way a human would do things so my orbit may be all skewed on this.”

  “Maybe,” Staley offered, “their mining technology doesn’t require a big operation. Meaning the facility could manage with a small footprint and they have the bulk of their fleet and other resources guarding this planet just like you said.”

  “Could be,” Jadar admitted. “But one thing I have noticed that really piques my curiosity is: no ground troops.”

  “Other than those canines on steroids, you mean,” Shar returned.

  “Right,” Jadar replied, scratching at his wound site. “Which makes me think that Tor’al was on to something when he said that the Mongans were few in number and growing fewer.”

  “Meaning that they can’t spare anyone walking a guard post,” Shar commented.