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

by GARY DARBY

  His hand swept across the gun’s handle, and he grabbed for the weapon. Through bleary eyes, he gripped the laz-gun only to let it fall from his grasp when he saw the splintered barrel.

  Throwing the useless weapon away, Dason drew his knife and poked his head over the railing. The second killer’s body lay motionless on the floor. Somehow, Dason’s spray shot had caught him just as he fired and now he lay stunned and still.

  Dason leaned over the railing in a frenzied search for Alena. At the metal bridge’s sudden shaking, he whirled to his right. Alena pounded up the staircase, heading for the catwalk.

  Close behind, Khalid charged up the flight of stairs, his face frozen in rage, his lips curled in a savage snarl.

  Dason’s vision cleared just enough for him to see that the killer had his blade out. “I should have killed you when I had the chance!” Khalid screamed at Alena.

  Dason had no doubt that the assassin was going to exact revenge, and Alena had but moments to live.

  He broke into a stumbling run, his one thought that he wouldn’t make it in time and that the killer would be upon Alena before Dason could reach her.

  Alena reached the catwalk but stumbled on the last step and went down hard. Khalid pounced at her with his knife slicing down in a vicious, slashing motion.

  Somehow, Alena rolled at the last possible instant. The assassin’s blade slammed so hard into the metal plating that tiny sparks shot off to one side.

  Spinning to her feet, Alena kicked out with one boot, catching the killer’s head at the temple.

  Alena tried to run, but Khalid threw out one hand and grabbed a foot. His cruel twist of her ankle dumped her onto the catwalk.

  She pushed away, trying to get to her feet, but before she could move, Khalid delivered a punishing backhand to her mouth.

  The blow sent her stumbling backward, her head slamming into a metal grill. With a soft moan, she slumped to the floor.

  Like a crazed animal stalking its prey, Khalid rose to his feet and stomped toward Alena, his breathing loud and rasping.

  Alena feebly kicked at her attacker trying to ward him off, but with a leering smile, the assassin brought his knife up over his head with both hands to strike a final, fatal blow.

  Dason’s feet first hurdle hit Khalid square in the small of his back, sending him crashing into the railing. The assassin spun against the metal fencing, stumbled for an instant before he recovered his balance

  Whirling, Khalid whipped his knife around to confront Dason. His expression was one of pure shock and surprise.

  “You!” he hissed before he settled into a wide stance, knife outstretched. His fingers on the other hand danced in the air as if he was playing an imaginary piano.

  “This seems to be my day for tying up loose ends,” he said, with a savage grin. “And as I’m not one to let unfinished business lie around, I’ll kill you nice and quick and then take care of the other two.”

  His leer widened. “I’ve got a ship to catch and a big paycheck to spend.”

  With a wary, slow motion Dason waved his knife in front of him and said, “It seems you keep saying that you’re going to kill me, and yet, here I am, still alive.”

  He grinned back and goaded the man. “You know, you’re not really all that good at this.

  “Let’s see now, you didn’t kill Alena or her father when you had the chance down below. You botched up that whole deal capturing the Mongans and let a novice Star Scout trick you and your goon buddies into getting bushwhacked.

  “You failed to kill Bianca in the forest, twice threatened to kill me, and twice you’ve failed, not to mention that you let that pretty face of yours get all beat up.

  “Maybe you should look for a new line of work, something where you can have a little more success, like shoveling manure from the south end of a northbound jackass.”

  That did it.

  Khalid lost all control and charged at Dason. Their blades rang together as the two grappled hand to hand. Dason tried to use his feet to entangle Khalid and bring him down, but Khalid was having none of it and matched him move for move.

  Being bulkier and stronger than Dason, Khalid did not take long to gain the advantage. With a savage twist, his free hand slipped out of Dason’s grasp, and before Dason could react, he landed a vicious uppercut to Dason’s jaw that sent the young scout spinning to the deck.

  Dason saw stars from the blow and tried to fend Khalid off but with a brutal punch, the killer knocked him to the floor again. He ground his boot into Dason’s knife hand forcing him to drop his blade.

  His eyes wide in a crazed, leering expression, Khalid brought his knife blade up for the final, fatal blow.

  Out of nowhere, an arm swung around Khalid’s neck to yank him away from Dason.

  It was Romerand.

  Somehow, he had managed to untie himself and make his way to the catwalk. For several seconds, the two large men struggled in close combat before Khalid was able to twist his knife hand away and with a backward stab plunged the blade up to the hilt into Romerand’s stomach.

  “No!” Alena screamed at seeing the knife blade thrust deep into her father’s body.

  For just a moment, Romerand turned his head toward his daughter and mouthed something that Dason couldn’t see.

  Then with a primal yell of rage, he turned back to Khalid, grabbed the crazed killer with both arms, and in a herculean effort sent the two of them toppling over the railing into an open acid vat below.

  Dason stood on rubbery legs, almost too stunned to move. He stumbled to a weeping Alena and untied her. He lowered his forehead to hers. “Alena,” he whispered, “I am so sorry, I truly am.”

  Deep, wrenching sobs wracked Alena’s body, and she covered her face with both hands. Dason held her for several seconds before he said, “Alena, I’ve got to go. Bianca needs help. I’ll be back, I promise.”

  Dason sped down the stairway, stopping long enough to grab the unconscious killer’s L-gun, before dashing into the adjoining larger room. There was no sign of Bianca or Tor’al.

  Fearing the worst, Dason sprinted down the huge room, turned the corner, dashed up the ramp and out the doorway into the open where he came to a sliding halt.

  He gaped in utter disbelief at the horrific scene that lay before him.

  Sha’anay and human bodies lay unmoving, the look of death on their faces as a soft wind blew tiny streamlets of sand over their still bodies.

  It was evident to Dason what had happened. While he and Alena battled the Faction assassins inside, Bianca and the Sha’anay had fought the Faction outside—and lost.

  He went from A’kan to Mo’sar, their bloody and torn bodies ripped open by repeated disruptor blasts. Their eyes were lifeless, staring outward as if in their last moments they gazed up into the vast cosmos of interstellar space which had been their home for all their lives.

  At a nearby raspy breath, Dason sprang up at the sound and darted over to where El’am lay folded in the fetal position, both hands clamped tight to his stomach. Dason rolled him over and sucked in a breath.

  El’am’s quivering fingers barely covered a gory blaster wound to his midsection that shredded skin and muscle but the young warrior still breathed.

  His eyelids fluttered open at Dason and the Sha’anay cub rumbled, “I live, go see to the others, they may need you worse than I.”

  A soft moan caught Dason’s attention. He whirled to see Bianca lying crumpled next to the building wall. He ran toward her and knelt.

  With gentle hands, he lifted her to cradle her in his arms. The jagged, hand-sized hole in her seared uniform and the massive, spreading pool of red that stained the gritty sand told the grim story.

  Her eyes fluttered open, she looked up at Dason and in a choking voice said, “Hope you did better than me. We couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t save Tor’al.”

  She stopped to take several breaths before raising a weak hand to point past her. Dason turned and saw the lifeless body of a Faction mercenary. H
is still form draped over the Mongan teleportation apparatus.

  “Did get the drop on the one carrying that,” she managed to croak out, “and kept the others from trying to retrieve it.”

  Smiling weakly, she murmured, “Their leader wasn’t too happy, killed two of his own men when they wouldn’t fight it out with me.”

  Coughing up blood, she snarled, “But when I let loose on him, turns out he was as big a coward as they and bolted for the ship.”

  Drawing in a ragged breath, she motioned to the Sha’anay. “They charged right into a full blaster field trying to get to Tor’al but we couldn’t save him.”

  She brought up a weak hand and pushed a blue orb into Dason’s chest. “Here,” she rasped out, “go find your team, they’re waiting for you. Together, you’ll save Tor’al, finish the mission and meet mission complete criteria.”

  Dason tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. He held her tighter as she grimaced from the agonizing pain. Her eyes closed for a moment before she reopened them and gave Dason a weak smile.

  “Remember, scout,” she began, her voice coughing and choking on her own blood as she tried to get the words out, “to pick your fights more carefully in the future because I don’t think I’m going to be around to . . .”

  Her mouth worked, but no words came out. Then a calm look came over her face; she took one tiny last breath, her eyes closed, and she died in Dason’s arms.

  Dason clung to her, his cheek to her cheek. He closed his eyes tight in a vain attempt to try and push away the pain and grief that wracked his mind and body.

  “I will ma’am,” he mumbled as he lowered her body to the soft sand. “I’ll do all of that for you.”

  With a gentle caress, he wiped the dust from her cheeks and mouth. “Scouts Out, Captain,” he said, his voice choking as he tried to take in a breath.

  “And good hunting, now and forever.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Star date: 2443.084

  The Alpha Prime Planet

  Far, far, away, as if he stood on one side of the churning Helix Nebula and the distant speaker on the other side, Jadar heard, Jadar, hey, Jadar. Can you hear me? C’mon fella show me you’re in there.

  Jadar didn’t want to answer, he liked being in this warm, dark, silky place, even if his head did hurt like someone had split it wide open with a disruptor shot.

  The voice was persistent and wouldn’t be quiet. “C’mon, Jadar, I need for you to wake up.”

  Jadar didn’t like being woken up so soon after going to sleep. He wasn’t some sort of superman, he needed rest, too. He decided wasn’t going to pay any attention to the annoying voice and go back to sleep.

  Another voice said, “No response, sir, try something else—something that would really get under his skin and get his attention.”

  “Okay,” the first voice said, “use the ol’ fight or flight mechanism technique to wake him up. Let’s see . . . I got it. Hey Jadar! The four-headed Dragon Men of the Andromeda Galaxy have invaded. We’ve got to get out of here right now!”

  That’s just being silly, stupid, and sillier still, thought Jadar, and not worthy of attention. No such thing as Dragon Men, let alone with multiple heads. He would ignore the stupid voice, besides, he just wanted to sleep away the pain in his skull.

  “Colonel, I don’t think that worked. No response whatsoever.”

  “Yeah, I see that. I hate to do this but if anything will get him to respond, this will. Hey Jadar! General Rosberg just sent out a message to all of Star Scout that says Deklon Marrel was found guilty of stealing Kolomite!”

  Jadar’s eyes popped open.

  “That’s a lie,” he croaked. “The general would never—”

  “Jadar!” Shar Tuul smiled. “That got your attention. You’re right, he didn’t, and he wouldn’t but I needed a way to get your attention. Now, talk to me, boy. Are you awake?”

  “In that case,” Jadar answered in a feeble tone as he closed his eyes again. “no, I’m not awake and leave me alone. I want to sleep.”

  He raised a weak hand to try and push Tuul away but Tuul’s rough hand grabbed his shoulder and held him fast. “Jadar, don’t you go back to sleep on me, I need for you to wake up. It’s important. Tell me that you can hear me.”

  Jadar wrinkled up his face in annoyance but kept his eyes closed. “All right, all right. I hear you, whaddya want?”

  “Good and feisty,” Shar said, “that’s what I like, but I want you to open your eyes and keep them open.”

  Jadar raised a dirty hand and rubbed at his forehead and then wished he hadn’t—even a slight touch caused pain. He struggled to get his eyes open before he managed to force his eyelids up.

  Two blurry faces seemed to float above him. For a second, they seemed to waver before coming into focus.

  “That’s better,” Shar said. “You’ve been sleeping for a long time, fella. We’ve tried several times to wake you up but you were unresponsive. For a while we were beginning to think you weren’t going to wake up. Now hold still for a second.”

  Lieutenant Staley waved a small pencil light in front of Jadar’s eyes before saying, “Same as before, sir, his pupils are constricting in both eyes, but one is not responding as fast as the other.”

  She paused before saying, “I don’t think there’s much question that he’s suffered a concussion. Though now that we’ve got him awake and his reflexes in his extremities are normal, that’s an excellent sign that the concussion and whatever else is wrong may not be as severe as we thought.”

  “Great,” Shar replied. He peered at Jadar and asked, “How are you feeling?”

  Jadar placed a hand to his head and rubbed his fingers into his short hair. “Like I should be dead,” Jadar replied and then grunted, “and surprised that I’m not.

  “My head feels like someone’s taken a syn-diamond drill bit and is drilling a fist-sized hole into my skull. Got a ‘fuzz-brain’ pill on you?”

  “Understandable after what you’ve been through,” Shar responded, “and no, sorry, we ran out. Think you can sit up?”

  “Yeah, with a little help,” Jadar answered and with Shar’s assistance raised himself to a sitting position before placing his back against the rough rock wall. Without moving his head, he glanced around. “Where are we?”

  “Hiding out in a pleasant little cave that we found,” Shar answered, “keeping out of sight and most importantly staying far away from the Mongans.”

  Jadar scanned his surroundings. Above and in front of him was an overhang that led to the cave’s jagged opening that was barely wide enough to squeeze through. Faint, dusky light filtered in through the narrow aperture.

  On each side of the portal, two scouts lay prone with weapons outstretched, guarding the entrance. Several other scouts sat nearby, including Chia and Vlad.

  He gave a little wave of acknowledgment to the young scouts. “Glad to see you two safe and whole but if there is a next time, remind me to give us a little more safety margin before we decide to play with fireworks.”

  “Yes sir,” Vlad answered, “but that would take away all the pucker factor, don’t you think?”

  “I could most definitely live with that,” Jadar grunted before his eyes came back to Shar and Staley. He gestured at Staley’s bandaged arm. “What happened there?

  “Little slow in drawing my knife,” Staley answered. “But there’s one devil dog that won’t go around gnawing on anyone’s arm anymore.”

  She raised the injured arm and gave Jadar a small smile. “It’ll be okay in a couple of days, besides, I’m ambidextrous, I can throw a knife and hit the target cleanly with either hand. And I’m an expert marksman with both hands, too.”

  “Good talent to have,” Jadar approved. “Me, I barely make do with one hand.”

  He blinked a couple of times as his memory returned and he snapped out, ignoring the pain in his head. “Wait. I’m not thinking straight; my brain must be really scrambled. The Mongan complex. Did we bl
ow it?”

  Shar snorted in response. “Blow it? My man, when this is all over, you and I are going to come back here as civilians and make a small, no, wait, make that a big fortune from all the scrap metal that’s lying around that lakeside.

  “We’re not sure what you fellas hit with those two overloaded disruptors but when it went—it went!”

  “Even bigger fireworks than Imperium Day back home,” Chia chimed in, “and we do it right back in El Paso.”

  Shar grinned wide as he reached down to give Jadar a small slap on his knee. “Great job, Jadar. Scratch three Mongan warships and one Kolomite refining complex.

  “Nothing left but one good-sized crater, and pieces of—well, just pieces, most of which aren’t much bigger than the Mongan’s bald heads.”

  He scratched at his cheek before saying, “Speaking of which, that should have shrunk their ego down a size or two.”

  Jadar gave Shar a thin smile. “That’s good news. But give the man over there with the golden arm all the credit. He’s the one that tossed those two disruptors right in their faces. I was just an observer.”

  He shrugged slightly and wished he hadn’t, it hurt all over. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure that our bomb-making effort would work.”

  Shar frowned in response. “Umm, from what I saw, I’d say that your little firecrackers had just enough explosive juice that they set off a chain reaction. First, one ship went up, followed by the other two.

  “Must have thrown stuff clear up to the stratosphere and when it started coming down; think of a thousand Perseids meteor showers all at once.”

  Jadar rubbed at his chin. “Interesting. I wonder if we somehow set off some of their Kolomite or if there was some sort of feedback loop in their energy broadcasters?”

  Shar gave a nod and said, “Or maybe both? If it was the Kolomite, I don’t think it was very much, which makes me think that perhaps they hadn’t refined a whole lot just yet.

  “If it were more than say a tenth of a kilogram, the explosion would’ve carved out a new bay in the lake. As it is, there’s a crater where their compound stood but, better yet, it looks like we put a big cork in that hole they were digging, too.”