Starhold's Fate (Starhold Series Book 4)

by J. Alan Field

  Hawkins shook his head and clasped his hands together, almost as if in prayer. “I always knew. I always knew that someday the truth would come out.”

  “What truth is that?” asked Sanchez.

  The young Kaskian Guard slumped in his seat and spoke in a low voice.

  “I came here to kill the Empress. It was just after the Commonwealth War. Admiral Bettencourt and a group of Gerrhan intel officers had escaped to Pontus.”

  “And you were with them,” said Carr.

  “Yes. They had this plan to restore the Gerrhan government, to take back what was ours. Thinking about it now, well, it was sheer fantasy. It’s the kind of thing defeated people cook up in their minds to keep themselves going—a reason to wake up the next morning. Part of the plan was to cause political chaos within the Sarissan government. We thought that if the Empress were to die…”

  Sanchez interrupted. “Let me get this straight—you’re talking about the previous Empress, Renata Darracott? Is that right?”

  “Yes. When I came to Esterkeep, I met Ardith Flood and worked my way into the Kaskian Guards. I managed to get a position serving under Vickery, which meant I spent a lot of time around Colonel Flood. I learned to like both of them, to respect them. And then…”

  “Then Renata was assassinated,” Carr said, “and Ardith Flood became Empress,”

  Hawkins sat up straighter, his manner more composed. “Major Carr, you don’t have to lie to me about that. I know Renata’s assassination was faked, part of a plan to topple Channa Maxon from power. Vickery was in on it, which means I was too—practically the entire Kaskian Guard was. As a matter of fact, I know for certain that both of you were in on it as well.”

  Carr gave the younger man a half-shrug. “We were more like accessories after the fact. Anyway, when Ardith became Empress, you couldn’t go through with the plan—you couldn’t kill her.”

  “It was all so clear when we planned it out years ago on Pontus. I knew what my mission was and I was determined to succeed.”

  “What happened?”

  Hawkins shook his head. “I’m not sure. After I arrived on Sarissa and lived here for a while things started to get murky. I found that I enjoyed life in Esterkeep, and I enjoyed being in the Guard. I was actually proud of my work. As for Ardith—well, I could never hurt her.”

  A single Palace staffer passed near their table, greeting them with a cheery “good morning.” Hawkins let her walk by before continuing.

  “Renata had supposedly been assassinated. I thought maybe Bettencourt and the others would think I was the person responsible, so I just stopped responding to the messages they sent me. For some reason, I thought it would all go away, that I could go on with my life here. Clearly, that’s not going to happen now.”

  “No, it’s not. Your days as a Kaskian Guard are over,” said Carr, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out an infocard, handing it to Hawkins.

  “What’s this, Major?”

  “A ticket for a starliner heading to Pontus three days from now. You need to be on it. Once you arrive in Prosperity City, Bettencourt’s people will find you. They are doing good work there helping out Gerrhan immigrants. Those people want to start a new life and you can help them—and yourself.”

  “That card in your hand also contains an e-draft for a thousand dennics to help you get set up on Pontus,” Sanchez added. “Consider it our contribution to the Gerrhan refugee cause.”

  “I’m…” Hawkins searched for the right words. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Bettencourt will send us a message after you arrive on Pontus.” Carr leaned forward to underscore his next words. “Understand that if we don’t hear from Bettencourt inside of a week, an amended mission report will be sent to Her Majesty. You’ll be identified as a traitor and would-be assassin. If that happens, you won’t be able to find a rock big enough to hide under.”

  “And neither will we,” joked Sanchez. “Suffice it to say, we’re taking a gamble on you, Lieutenant.”

  Hawkins took a slow look around the courtyard. “I really love this place. Is there no other way?”

  “No,” said Carr flatly. “It’s in Ardith’s best interest, if that makes it any easier for you.”

  Hawkins nodded in acceptance. “I assume before I see Colonel Vickery about resigning my commission that you still need that lift up to Arisugawa Starport. The shuttle is ready to go on Pad Two. I’ll see you there when you’re ready.”

  Sanchez watched Hawkins as he strolled across the courtyard on his way to the shuttlepad. “He’s going to resign his commission? Won’t that cause Vickery to ask questions?”

  “Some, but there would be more questions if he just disappeared.” Carr couldn’t help but feel sorry for Hawkins. The youngster got in way over his head, then discovered a new life for himself only to have it ripped away.

  “At least on Pontus he won’t be living a lie anymore,” Carr said before downing the last of his juice. “And speaking of lies, we aren’t really going to visit your cousins on Quijano, are we?”

  “Hell, no,” answered Sanchez, reaching to take his hand into hers. “I just want to go back to Earth. I just want to go home.”

  24: Future Tense

  Sarissan battleship Typhoon

  Cor Caroli system

  “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” asked Nyondo.

  “No, I’ve got it.” Pettigrew didn’t know his way around a kitchen as well as he did a starship, but as a casual cook he did all right when he had the chance. Unfortunately, the last time he had the chance was—well, he couldn’t remember. His stateroom kitchen was mostly the domain of his orderly, whom he had dispatched on alternate duties for the duration of the evening. Besides, how difficult could cooking pasta with warm tomatoes be?

  Pettigrew considered the meal. “On second thought, there is something you could do. Why don’t you make us a salad?”

  “Just to give you a heads up,” Nyondo said as she rummaged around in the fridge, “Mullenhoff thinks they might be able to push Project Jailbreak up by a couple of days. I’m guessing she will brief you on it tomorrow.”

  Project Jailbreak was the engineering team’s plan for activating the Threshold. It was the brainchild of Ajax Baker and three weeks in the making as the humans worked alongside the stranded Massang scientists. Governor Sturka and his staff promised to monitor the Massang team for signs of sabotage. The Governor was as anxious to leave Cor Caroli as Pettigrew, but for different reasons. Whereas Pettigrew was concerned for the safety of Earth, Sturka wanted to return to the Massang homeworld to restore order—and seize control of his government.

  “You waited until now to tell me the Jailbreak news?”

  She lifted a bag of freeze-dried carrots onto the counter. “I didn’t want to break your concentration. Boiling water is a delicate operation.”

  He laughed and placed his right arm around her, pulling her close to him before kissing her on the lips.

  “Every time you do that, we break another regulation,” she said with a devilish grin.

  “Do you care?”

  “Not in the least,” she said, planting a quick peck on his cheek.

  Pettigrew turned to locate a bowl for Nyondo’s salad. His stateroom was roomy by ship standards, but the private kitchen was not as the two of them danced for position in the cramped space.

  “I’m guessing we aren’t the only couple in the fleet to have become involved over the past three weeks.” he said reaching into an overhead compartment.

  Their feelings for each other had been simmering for longer than that—perhaps for years if they were completely honest with themselves. Maybe it took her pending retirement from the Space Force to finally make him understand his own heart. That, along with his own post-war plans, had given him the boldness to act on his emotions.

  “I’m going to have Deanna Milner stay behind with Mullenhoff and the rest of our people,” he said handing her a large bowl.

>   “Admiral Milner? I assumed you would want Admiral Leversee to remain.”

  “No, I want Leversee to transit with us,” he said turning back to the boiling pasta. “The man is an old cruiser captain. He will be more valuable with us at Sol than he would be staying here.” The up side to Jailbreak was that they would escape the natural phenomenon that was holding them in the Cor Caroli system. The downside was that twenty-two of his twenty-three surviving battleships would have to remain behind. Baker’s plan called for linking the reactors of the capital ships via polaron beams. Their combined energy would then be used to power the Threshold. The sole battleship moving out with the fleet would be Pettigrew’s flagship, Typhoon.

  “Milner can handle things here. Marius has also promised to stay until the negative effects of the star diminish and the system is cleared.”

  “Very generous of Marius,” noted Nyondo bitterly. “You think he is feeling guilty over what happened to Sulla?”

  Pettigrew poked at the pasta with tongs. “Not really. I think Marius and the Lytori want to pilfer as much information about the Threshold as they can. Unfortunately for them, Mullenhoff is preparing to ‘accidentally’ wipe all the Threshold data once everyone transits.”

  “Hah!” she laughed. “Marius will be angry.”

  Pettigrew looked into the boiling water, thinking of the hell Sulla and her squad must have endured before their demise.

  “Too bad.”

  * * * *

  “Did you think the pasta was a little too al dente?”

  “It was delicious.” Nyondo leaned back on the small sofa, nestling herself against his body as he draped an arm around her.

  “Sunny, after you leave the service, have you thought about where you might go? I mean, where you might settle down.”

  She closed her eyes and smiled. “Provided we don’t vanish into oblivion when we pass through the Threshold?”

  He laughed nervously. “We’d better not. If that happens, my ghost will return to bust Mullenhoff and Baker down to ensigns. Besides, it may not be oblivion—we could end up in the Otherverse.”

  Nyondo opened her eyes and looked up. “Hey, what if we did? What if it was actually us that became the Adversary?”

  He made a sour face. “Don’t even joke about that—it’s too creepy to contemplate. Seriously, where are you going to call home after the service?”

  Nyondo pressed against him, repositioning herself. “I could go back to Rusalka, which is where I was born, but most of my friends live on Sarissa. I call them friends, but we only see each other like once every few years now.” Spacers gave up a great deal of their lives to travel the cosmos. Nyondo’s detachment from old familiarities was something that every star wanderer could understand.

  “Earth,” she said after some reflection. “When we were stationed in the Sol system with Tempest… Man, those were great times. I could definitely live on Earth. Would you come by to see me?”

  “Sure. Retired guys have plenty of time on their hands.”

  She sprang upright onto the edge of the sofa.

  “You’re retiring? Is it because—”

  He reached up, placing an index finger against her lips.

  “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now. I’ve given as much as any man could to Sarissa, and I’ve seen too many people die. Far too many,” he said as some of those familiar faces burst into his mind. “It’s time to move on. I promised Sturka that I would speak up for the Massang people during the peace process. After that, I’m going to live my life for myself.”

  “Good for you,” she said with a tender smile. “Chaz, is there someone…” She hesitated, looking away from him. Pettigrew stroked her cheek gently, letting her know it was all right to say what had come to her mind.

  “Chaz, is there anyone in your life that you need to return to? It’s silly. I suppose I should have asked this question before we—”

  “There is someone,” he interrupted in a somber voice. “There is one person—one beautiful woman that I want to be close to for the rest of my days, provided she will have me. I hear she’s moving to Earth.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, determined never to let go as they kissed again and again.

  25: Onslaught

  Two months later

  Massang battleship Chisellion

  Sol System

  In his flagship’s command chamber, Harradoss examined the updates as they streamed across the many displays.

  “Terux, you may report.”

  The holographic ship captain spoke up confidently. “We are station-keeping approximately two-hundred million kilometers from Earth as the remainder of our fleet translates into the system.”

  Phersu sat dutifully at his mentor’s side. “And the status of the Sol hypergate? Our sensors are showing it to be offline. Do your bridge instruments agree, Captain?”

  “Our readings here concur, Lord Phersu. We have also intercepted comm traffic among the merchant vessels in system. It appears that the Gate connecting Earth to Sarissa has been inactive for several days now.”

  “Too few,” snarled Harradoss, rising from his chair.

  “Too few?” queried the confused Terux. “Too few what, First Protector? Too few days?”

  “Merchant ships, you fool. Too few merchant ships. Our intelligence reports have this system as a hive of commerce. There should be hundreds of cargo vessels out there. Your sensors show me but a handful.”

  “Because their only hypergate is down,” maintained Phersu.

  Harradoss was dubious. “Are all of the Earth military ships marked on our scanners?”

  Solid-looking icons portraying the enemy craft glided in midair before Harradoss. Each was small enough for him to reach out and crush with one hand, save for one—the jewel of the EarthFed fleet, the titan Vanquisher.

  “All enemy ships are accounted for, First Protector.”

  “That means that not a single Earth vessel is on system patrol,” grumbled Harradoss. “They all just happen to be huddled near the planet, as if they were expecting an assault… As if they were expecting us.”

  His captain’s huge eyes blinked deliberately as the officer considered the circumstances. “They guard their flagship,” Terux countered. “They guard the titan.”

  Harradoss stared coldly at his underling. “You are wrong, Terux. They prepare for battle. They prepare for us.”

  Phersu stood, moving to his leader’s side. “But how could they know? Do you think Pettigrew managed to send a message before the Halprin radiation saturated the Cor Caroli system?”

  Harradoss shrugged off Phersu’s concern. “No matter, I suppose. We were always going to have to deal with the Earth ships. The important point is that our human agents have incapacitated the Gate. We have them outnumbered and outgunned. Captain Terux, you may advance our fleet toward the planet in the heptagon formation.”

  To his left, a watch drone timidly signaled Phersu for permission to speak.

  “Lord Phersu, there are three additional ships emerging from the far side of planet Earth. They are of Sarissan configuration. Cruisers, my lord.”

  Phersu stepped to the scanning station to check the data.

  “His report is correct, First Protector. Three Sinopa-class cruisers are showing themselves, on course for a rendezvous with the titan.”

  Harradoss waved a huge hand in dismissal. “Token reinforcements sent by the Sarissan Central Command. A gesture meant to soothe Earther jitters and keep them in the Sarissan sphere of influence.”

  “I’m not so sure, First Protector,” said Phersu as he examined information the watchkeeper silently brought to his attention. Harradoss became unsettled as his second-in-command’s four-fingered hands raced over the controls to summon more data.

  “What exactly is it, Phersu? Stop your fussing and speak!”

  “The three Sarissan cruisers in question have been identified.”

  “What of it?”

  Phersu glanced down
at the screen once more to be sure. “All three of these ships have engaged us before—at Cor Caroli.”

  “Impossible!” bellowed Harradoss, pointing to the helpless watch drone. “That fool has made a mistake.”

  “I beg forgiveness, my lords.” The words came from another member of the command chamber staff. “Our sensors show more Sarissan ships emerging from behind this system’s fourth planet.”

  A reddish world nearly the same size of Earth appeared on the main holographic screen. Drifting across the northern polar cap were scores of Sarissan icons moving slowly into view.

  “It is… Pettigrew,” stammered Phersu.

  “That wretched human… Curse him!” spat Harradoss. “By every god that is or ever was, curse him to damnation!”

  “What a formidable opponent he is,” mumbled Phersu, sounding almost envious.

  Harradoss fumed. “No, he is a lucky opponent, one that I should have killed when I had the chance.”

  “His fleet—it is not intact,” Phersu pointed out. “Only one battleship.”

  “His flagship,” Harradoss said, tamping down his anger. “That means we still have a firepower advantage, even considering the Earth titan.” The dozen Vanguard battleships within his eighty-ship fleet bolstered the First Protector’s confidence.

  “Harradoss to all vessels—increase velocity to double speed. We must defeat the Earth forces before us and begin landing our troops before the Sarissans behind us close and engage. Once Vanguard warriors make planetfall, we can dictate our own terms for the enemy’s surrender. Truest Massang, we stand on the edge of glorious victory and the dawn of a new era for the One Pure Race! This day will be ours, as will this world!”

  Boisterous cheers rose and faded in the chamber, the crew turning quickly back to their tasks with renewed energy. Meanwhile, Phersu moved close to speak privately.

  The perpetual pessimist. He never misses an opportunity to suffocate a grand moment.