DarkStar Running (Living on the Run Book 2)

by Ben Patterson

He glanced at Lilia, tried to at least, but a stabbing pain in his neck caught him off guard. What light there was came from a hallway leading out of the room. It was enough to see by, but what he saw near him shocked him cold. Sometime during their encasement in torture, she had stopped moving.

  Stan groaned as he rolled onto his hands and knees, preparing to crawl to her side. Every muscle and joint screamed its agony. He reached a tentative hand to touch her neck. He felt for the carotid artery and found a pulse. Lightheaded from the release of tension, he sat back, breathing a sigh of relief. There was something he had to attend to. He tried to focus, but his thoughts were slow to return. Two men . . . two dangerous men . . . where were they? He looked around for them but they were gone.

  Guardedly, he stretched and flexed in every direction to work off the aches and pains, but a little drummer inside his skull hammered with unrelenting stubbornness. The little villain even made seeing straight difficult.

  If Lilia awoke in as much pain as he was in, he didn’t want her to suffer this cold, hard floor as well. Ignoring the nastiness that permeated every fiber of his being, Stan managed to gather Lilia carefully into his arms, but climbing to his feet proved an exercise in discipline. At last he rose with her in his arms.

  The woman awakened, raised her head to see him, then fell limp. Though she was small and ever so light, he walked stiffly and staggering a bit as though carrying a cow. He took her through the open door, down the hall, and into her bedroom.

  After laying her on her bed, Stan paused a moment trying to unscramble the mess in his mind. Puzzled, he looked around. Her room? When did this become her room?

  “DarkStar?”

  “Yes, sir?” the ship responded promptly in a soft feminine tone familiar to Stan.

  “This is the first time I’ve ever been aboard you, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That being the case, how is it, then, that I know you better than I know myself? I even know your name.”

  “You were prepped, Stan,” came a voice from the doorway.

  He turned to find a slender man in a white smock. “Who the hell are you?”

  The man smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Peter Coalfire, the creator of DarkStar.”

  Stan ignored the proffered hand. “Prepped?”

  Coalfire jerked his hand forward to make clear his offered friendship.

  Stan glanced at it, then crossed his arms over his brad chest.

  Coalfire looked at his own outstretched hand. “Yes. Quite,” he said, lowering his spurned hand. “Prepared. Yes. About that. DarkStar inserted data into your genome. This altered your memories on a genetic level to give you the knowledge needed to control her.” His brows leveled and pinched together. “I know it was painful. Few things come without cost.”

  “Painful? Oh, it was far more than painful. Damn well better get that fixed before you use it on someone else.”

  “Sorry. That simply can’t be helped.”

  Stan exhaled, taken aback by what he had just heard. He hesitated, afraid of what the truth might be. “What did you do, Coalfire? Did you have Lilia ‘Prepped’ too?”

  “I did,” Coalfire said. “And like you, DarkStar altered her memories in like manner. Nothing for it though. I didn’t have time to educate you otherwise. I expect your head to unscramble soon, and when it clears, you’ll understand what DarkStar is all about, as well as know her functions.”

  “I wish you’d asked. Who says if given the choice I would have wanted this?”

  “Time is of the essence. Things are about to go pear-shaped and you need to be ready. DarkStar needs a pilot. You’re it.”

  “Who do you work for, Coalfire, and why here on Chagwa?”

  “Chagwa?” Coalfire chuckled in astonishment, then cocked his head as he puzzled. “This is Providence Minor, my dear boy. You are deep inside Union territory. Chagwa is well within Confed space light-years away.”

  “But . . .”

  “Sir,” Coalfire said, “this ship now belongs to you. And you and Lilia, now sharing each other’s memories, are bound to each other. What is done is done.”

  “What are you saying, Coalfire?” Stand said astonished.

  “And yes, sir,” Coalfire continued, “this was done to Lilia as well. It was necessary. And again, I’m sorry the process was painful.”

  Stan shook himself. Pain didn’t describe half of what he felt, and every distressing answer given by Coalfire only raised more questions. He wasn’t up to spending time he didn’t have playing “ask and answer.” His situation needed to be assessed and dealt with, and he had to do it through the worst hangover of his life.

  “My Lieutenants, where are they?”

  “They are in the cavern mounting their ships” DarkStar said. “They will reposition shortly, and fire upon us.”

  “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Coalfire asked with a coy smirk.

  Stan clenched his teeth but kept his head. Though Coalfire delivered the question softly, it was a clear rebuke.

  “How long before they’re ready?”

  “Five minutes, sir,” DarkStar said.

  “Report! Are you ready and able to fly?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Can you get us out of here?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And I’m out of here,” Coalfire said turning on his heels.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  Coalfire paused only long enough to peer back over his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.” With that he disappeared into the hallway.

  Stan lunged for the door to look, but Coalfire had vanished. The hallway was too long for a man, any man, to have moved so quickly.

  “Fine! DarkStar, fire up the drive and head for the surface.”

  “Yes, Captain.” With no dispute, the ship responded in obedience. Stan was master. Through his feet, he felt the floor faintly thrum as the ship’s Slip-band drive came to life.

  Lilia roused and, with a moan, sat up on the edge of the bed. He could see she felt the soreness as well, but, thankfully, she had remained unconscious through the worst of the procedure. She stretched and groaned again.

  “You okay?” he said.

  She looked at him as if his question was glaringly stupid.

  “I need to get to the bridge. In moments, my Lieutenants will fire on this ship. Time is critical.”

  “Sure.” Lilia shook her head, puzzled. “And I know where, or even what the bridge is . . . how?”

  Stan’s lips curled into a smile. “I’ll help you sort out the hows and whys later. Right now I need to leave you alone. You okay?”

  “I’m right with you.”

  “Bridge.” Stan commanded.

  Instantly, a green, luminous band lit across the smooth walls; a trail to guide them directly to the bridge. A mix of understanding and seeing something completely new clashed in Stan’s mind as genetic memory sought to override his experiences. “Hmm, would you look at that?”

  Following it, he soon stepped onto the bridge. Grateful that the distance wasn’t great, he hobbled stiffly toward the pilot’s seat like an old man who had misplaced his walker.

  “So,” kidded Lilia, “how’s this for moving quickly?” As she had said, she was right behind him.

  Not knowing she had followed, Stan turned with a start, but a stab in his ribs nailed him hard. He could feel the ship rise slowly as he sat down at the pilot’s console. Lilia took the co-pilot’s seat next to him. The ship rose to the cavern ceiling and stopped suddenly with a thud. The abrupt jerk sent pain shooting through both of them.

  “DarkStar, we’re in enough pain as it is,” Stan said. “Please bring inertia suppressor on line.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Thunderous scraping echoed through the bridge as the ice resisted the ship’s efforts. Following orders, DarkStar stubbornly pressed upward and broke through the thick frozen barrier. Once free, the ship began to move more quickly through the softer snow.

  Lilia rubbed a
temple, scowling at the painful noise filling the bridge. “Buffer that racket, will you, DarkStar?” At once, the intense sound vanished.

  She tabbed the console to bring shields to full. “Give us tactical, DarkStar.”

  Just as a 3-D hologram appeared before them revealing the ice planet, Stan shot an annoyed glance her way. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “My job.” She tabbed her console. The picture zoomed in, and they could now make out the planet’s surface.

  “That isn’t Chagwa,” Stan said, mystified. Then the surface features of the planet abruptly changed to that of Chagwa. The five Darts that patrolled the planet’s surface appeared from nowhere. The hologram magnified again, and through the transparent view of Chagwa, they could see their ship deep beneath the snow. Then out of the white Troy and Jesse’s Darts appeared, heading skyward in pursuit. Stan swore they weren’t there a moment before.

  Lilia keyed in another command, strengthening the rear shields.

  “Await my commands,” Stan ordered. “I’ll let you know what to do and when.”

  Lilia leaned back and glowered. “Excuse me? Who put you in charge?”

  Stan fought to clear his mind, and could see Lilia fared no better. “They’re closing in. I don’t need your mucking about confusing the issue.”

  Her jaw tightened noticeably as she shook her head and motioned to his console. “You just mind what’s in front of you and let me do my job.”

  “I’m in command, woman. Respect that.”

  “Keep us out of pistol shot, DarkStar,” Lilia ordered, “but don’t let them fall too far behind.”

  “Roger, ma’am,” the ship responded.

  “Now just one minute here. You’ll follow my orders, DarkStar. Not those of a . . . a waitress,” he sputtered.

  “When Captain Slone is wrong, sir, I’ll disobey those orders. But until then . . .”

  Lilia grinned. “Like I said, flyboy, who put you in charge? It doesn’t sound as if DarkStar has.”

  It didn’t pay to argue. Time was crucial, and he had none to waste. Seeing Lilia was determined to fight him every step of the way about his being in command, Stan groused to himself, then spoke to regain control. “Back tactical out a bit. Give me a broader picture.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Lilia rubbed her temples with both hands, trying to ease the soreness, but her actions were in vain. Thinking clearly seemed as much an effort for her as it did for him.

  Panning back, the planet’s moon came into view. Lilia leaned forward and pointed. “Get us around to the other side of Chagwa’s moon, and as soon as we’re out of view, go to full stealth.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Now, wait a minute, woman. We should head for open space and run like nobody’s business.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s like I said, someone has to be in charge, and I’m the one with the military experience.

  “So, it certainly isn’t going to be a waitress from Seychelles when it comes to a military operation, huh?”

  Stan’s mood had instantly soured, but he couldn’t tell what aggravated him more, seeing his own men trying to kill him, or suffering this young upstart’s attitude.

  “It’s like DarkStar said, Stan. Correct me when I’m wrong, but until then, mind your own station.”

  “Yeah, Lilia, walk us right into a trap, will you? I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “Your men are behind us, Stan,” she said coolly. “All of them. How is ducking behind that moon going trap us?”

  He sat hunched over his console. “I see that my one good deed in rescuing you has come back to bite my butt. I can’t explain my every decision, woman. You’ll just have to yield to my experience.”

  Lilia’s voice was quiet but confident. “Stan, let’s just get through this. For whatever reason, I know what I’m doing. I can’t say why, but I know everything from the ship’s name, to understanding what we’re up against. Learn to live with this new dichotomy will you?”

  Naïve young woman, he thought.

  Fine.

  Live and learn.

  Who knows, maybe he was wrong. He shook himself. Blast! He had to stop second guessing himself. He’d calm himself, give her the reins, and correct any mistakes she’d make, then she’d come to learn why his military experience trumped everything else.

  Then it dawned on him, naïve or not, she deserved better than what she got on Atheron. He’d muscle past pirates and patrols; past traps and hidden dangers, and everything else thrown at them between here and Providence to get her to safety . . . and out of his hair. If that, and that alone was to be his one good deed, then so be it. He’d make it happen.

  Chapter Nine

  Blowing white powder a quarter mile into the air, the ship exploded from the frozen snow with both Darts in hot pursuit. As the other five interceptors took up the chase, Troy and Jessup headed for the refinery to refuel.

  In another moment Stan and Lilia were clear of Chagwa’s atmosphere, well on their way to its moon. The Darts struggled to keep up as this new ship pressed forward.

  “Warning... danger,” alerted DarkStar as she swung the tactical display around to the dark side of the moon.

  Stan tensed. As he had guessed, two ships hid in its shadow. “They look like Corsairs.”

  “Pirates?” Lilia said in surprise. “Who wouldda guessed?”

  “They’re just waiting for easy pickin’s.”

  Lilia eased back in her chair. “Good.”

  A throbbing head impaired his ability to think. “We’re disadvantaged, waitress. What could possibly be good about having our escape blocked?”

  Without taking her eyes from the screen, she smiled with intent. “Stan, haven’t you heard? Disadvantage brings to light the more clever captain.”

  Had he heard? It was what he lived for. Stan practically coined the phrase . . . but where had this waitress picked it up, and what did she now have in mind?

  “DarkStar,” she said, “I want the engines to look like they’re over-heating.”

  “Can do, Captain. At your command.”

  “Reduce speed. Let the Darts catch us right when we’re in range of the Corsairs.”

  Catching on to what she wanted, Stan realized she had quickly come up with a good plan. Where did that come from? he thought.

  “Get ready to take it from here, Stan.”

  Stan tabbed his console to ready their plan. To all others it would seem as if their over-heating engines would soon go critical.

  “Going to Level-B stealth in five seconds.”

  As if spoken by someone else, Stan heard himself boldly say what should have sounded like nonsense, but he understood completely. Through intense pain he and she had learned all about this unique spacecraft in a matter of moments. Lightning fast, technical data now scrolled through Stan’s head. The ship had three stealth levels: Level-A would make the ship completely undetectable, rendering no readings at all. Level-B made the ship appear other than it was by projecting readings such as the over-heated engines.

  Unlike any other vessel, DarkStar could cast a Sensory Shadow-ship, a holographic projected craft identical to her in every way—size, shape, color; except the fake ship had no real substance. Combining that feature with Level-A stealth mode would leave their adversaries unaware of the true events.

  “Creating a Sensory Shadow-ship,” Stan said, “and going to Level-A. I’ll drop a class-2 Nuke and give us separation in 5 seconds.”

  Stan placed the small nuclear bomb where the Shadow-ship’s engine core should be, had it been the real ship, and then pulled the now invisible ship away. Taking DarkStar’s place, the Shadow-ship made it easy for the real ship to sneak away undetected.

  Lilia whispered as if her voice would betray their true position. “Looks like they’re taking the bait, Stan.”

  “Aye, Cap. Easing away,” Stan responded quietly.

  “Careful now.”

  “As soon as both parti
es are within gunshot of our Shadow-ship. I’ll detonate the bomb.”

  “Good job, Stan. Each party will think the other shot first.”

  “DarkStar, resume control.” Stan said, easing back from the controls. “Get us to a safe distance, and hold position there.”

  Lilia made little effort to hide her distain. “We could wait and watch these clowns hash out their differences . . . or we could simply head to safety. Providence Prime awaits, does it not?”

  “Watching the pending butchery makes little sense to you, does it?” Stan kept a close eye on the screen.

  “Well, no, actually. I see no reason to stay.”

  Stan rubbed his neck. “Lilia, go fix yourself some lunch. I’ll be down in a bit.”

  Lilia shook her head and scowled. “Let’s leave these fools to their own destruction.”

  “You don’t want to stay? Fine. Go occupy your time with something else. I’m sure this ship is full of distraction.”

  “Can we just move on?” Lilia said, her tone growing irritable.

  “Do what you will. I’m staying put to the end.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Will the wonders never cease? You know, for a fleeting moment back there, I thought you knew what it was to be a ship’s captain. Now, by the wildest stretch of my imagination, I simply don’t see why I’d think such a silly thing.”

  “I am a captain,” she grumbled. “I just hate having to watch these idiots go at it. Why would you want to stay for the show? Got some morbid need to keep score?”

  Ignoring her, Stan tabbed his console. The fake ship exploded in a flash of light that quickly vanished, dissipating into the vacuum of space.

  He turned to Lilia. “DarkStar and I will take it from here, Trog. Why don’t you go to the galley and fix yourself something to eat? Maybe a meal will help you get back to feeling less ... Troggish. I’ll be down in a bit.”

  Coldly angry, Lilia conceded. “Galley, please.”

  The flat wall behind them parted to form a doorway. Through it, Stan saw a stainless steel kitchen and almost heard it call her by name. Two steps through the door and the wall closed behind her, smoothing to hide its secret perfectly.

  Stan muttered softly to himself, “She’s got a heart of stone, that one.”