Keeper of the Sun (Starhold Series Book 3)

by J. Alan Field

  Her husband’s pace suddenly slowed as he tugged at her. “Who’s that with the Captain?” he asked, squeezing her hand in anxiety.

  “I don’t know,” she said while smiling and returning the old man’s wave. “But they’ve already seen us—c’mon.”

  The two men at the café stood as they approached the table. The Captain wore one of his usual kitschy flower-print shirts and a pair of khaki pants. His companion was dressed more conservatively, donning a plain teal tee and Narva shorts. The stranger was a small, wiry fellow somewhere in his late-twenties, wearing a wide, good-natured smile.

  “Sorry we’re late,” said her husband, extending a hand as he approached the Captain. “Something came up this morning.”

  “Yeah,” said the Captain, shaking hands while eyeing the woman up and down with a younger man’s eyes. “I’m sure it did.”

  She winked at the older gentleman and stepped forward to give him a warm embrace. “I do apologize for making you wait. I didn’t know we would have a guest.”

  “Huh? Oh, oh,” the Captain stammered. “One of my former crew come to check on me in my retirement. This fellow here holds the distinction of being my number one chucklehead during the old days on the Ortelli Maiden, but he turned out all right just the same. Meet my good friend, Roberto.”

  The guest eagerly thrust out a hand to be shaken. “Hey, how you all doin’? It’s Cline, Roberto Cline. Cap here never could remember my last name.”

  “I knew it, I knew it,” corrected Captain Sevastyan Kulakov, formerly of the Ortelli Group merchant fleet. “But everything in this town’s very casual, ya see. First names is good enough.”

  She reached for Roberto’s hand. “My name is Regina, but everyone calls me Reggie.”

  “Nice meeting you, Reggie. Hey, that’s a cool name—Reggie,” the younger man repeated, shaking her hand vigorously before switching to her husband.

  “David, David Garrison,” offered her spouse. “Shall we all sit down?”

  “I had some leave comin’ to me,” said Roberto, “and my ship lays over here at Earth several times a year anyway, so I thought I’d come dirtside and pay my respects to the Cap—maybe stay a few days.”

  “I take it you’re still with Ortelli.” said David.

  “Roberto’s not only still with the company,” Kulakov spoke up, “but he’s First Mate on the Ortelli Pinnacle. Mind you, that’s their newest, biggest miner.”

  Reggie placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Why, Captain Kulakov, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re showing a lot of pride in your number one chucklehead.”

  As the others laughed, Kulakov shook his head and waved a hand in the air. “It ain’t pride, it’s just a fact. The boy has done good,” he said beaming Roberto’s way, then wagged a finger in his direction. “But don’t go gettin’ a big head about it!”

  After the server took their breakfast orders, talk turned to the days when Kulakov and Roberto traveled in the Black.

  “So the Ortelli Maiden wasn’t the first ship you served on together?” asked Reggie.

  “No, no,” Kulakov said. “We first met—where was it—the Stryker, wasn’t it, Roberto?”

  “Good call, Cap. She’d just been overhauled at the Pontian Yard. The Cap and me, we’re both from Pontus, you know. Hey, where are you two from? You’re not New Earthers, are you? That would be cool if you were from another universe.”

  Reggie traded a quick glance with her husband. “Threnn,” she said firmly. “We are both from Threnn.”

  “Threnn,” he repeated. “Never been there myself. So, why did you move here?”

  “We needed a change of scenery,” she answered, replying honestly. “Centuries ago this area was called the Sunshine Coast. When I heard that, I knew it was the place for me.”

  Roberto’s head enthusiastically bobbed up and down. “Sure is beautiful here,” he said surveying the view. “And what a great beach!”

  “The original shoreline here used to be ‘bout a hundred meters farther out before the sea level rose,” remarked Kulakov, sipping on his second cup of morning coffee.

  Roberto’s eyes embraced the clean blue water. “I’d love to try some fishing while I’m here. Back home, back on Pontus, my brother and I used to go fishing all the time. That’s been ages ago.”

  David stood as he finished off his pomegranate juice. “Roberto, now you’re speaking my language. Walk with me. It just so happens that the best fishing spot on the cove is right over there on that pier. Come on, I’ll show you the spot. We can check it out and be back before our food arrives.”

  Roberto was overjoyed. As he and David wandered off toward the pier, Kulakov drained his coffee cup and gestured to the server for yet another.

  “There’s something I’ve never asked you,” he said to Reggie after the others were out of earshot. “I get the name Regina. Cute—a little too cute maybe, but you know—whatever. My question is, why did Karl settle on the name David?”

  “Oh, that,” she said, sliding her chair slightly left in order to catch more sun. “David was his father’s name. Now you answer a question for me—why surprise us with a stranger?”

  Kulakov gave out a hardy laugh. “He is strange, isn’t he?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said unamused. “Roberto seems like a nice guy, but you could have called us to…”

  “To warn you? About what? Someone you never met? Look around. You ain’t met most of these folks. What ‘er you two gonna do the rest of your lives? Hole up in your house and never come out?”

  Conceding the point, Reggie looked skyward and closed her eyes, letting the sunlight fall over her face. “Roberto really does seem like a nice guy. He’s seems, I don’t know—childlike, but I mean that in a good way. Maybe innocent would be a better word.”

  “Roberto is uncomplicated and… happy. Most folks don’t know how to take happy people, cause they ain’t happy themselves.”

  She turned back to Kulakov, leaning forward and taking his hand into hers.

  “Captain, what if more people recognize us? After all, you managed to figure it out.”

  “Ahh, that was just luck. Karl, err… David, he knew too damn much about how merchant ships were put together. Didn’t take much for an old space rat like me to figure he was a shipbuilder by trade. At the time, all the stuff on the Nets got me thinkin,’ but it was really just a lucky guess.”

  For months following her assassination, the Nets had been saturated with conspiracy theories—doubly so after the mysterious death of Channa Maxon and her partner on Cardea. It had taken a year for the talk to die down, but in the end, no one could prove anything.

  Other events were now consuming the public’s attention, aiding the cause of Reggie’s anonymity. Following the return of the Pettigrew Expedition and the arrival of alien ambassadors, few people concerned themselves with her fate. It was a year ago now, and for most people, it was ancient history.

  “Besides,” added Kulakov, “you told me if you ever needed to leave Earth that you got options.”

  She and her husband did have options. He had left Gideon Universal to his son Khadeen, but by some nimble last minute bookkeeping, a great deal of Karl Gideon’s personal fortune had disappeared with them, deposited in banks scattered across the Renaissance Sector. If they ever needed to flee Earth, they could easily set up housekeeping on another world.

  Kulakov edged his chair closer to her and spoke in a quiet but emphatic voice. “You two changed your identities. You changed your faces. You changed your hair. The only thing left to change is your fear.”

  Reggie looked at him for long seconds, then leaned forward and kissed the older man on the cheek.

  “What was that for?”

  “I miss my old friends,” she confessed. “But I’m glad I have new ones.”

  Down the boardwalk, David and Roberto were walking back toward the café. “Hey!” Roberto yelled, waving his hands in the air and pointing back to the pier. “There
are SO many fish over there!”

  “And here comes one of your new friends now,” said Kulakov dryly.

  Reggie began to laugh. What was it Kulakov said? Roberto was ‘uncomplicated.’ Maybe he could give her lessons…

  * * * *

  When they moved to New Brisbane, the couple purchased one of the nicer houses in the area. It was set back from the beach about three-hundred meters or so and within an easy bicycle ride to the town center. Their neighbors on one side were a retired physician from Yargo and his partner. The lot on the other side of them was vacant, but for sale. David was in the process of buying it, thus ensuring no one built there.

  As the sun prepared to set, shadows nibbled at the edges of the back deck where Reggie sat reading. She was working on a murder mystery that David had recommended. For most of her adult life, she had had little time for fiction, deferring to briefing papers and intelligence reports. Fiction was much more relaxing.

  “What do you think?” asked David, setting a three-olive martini down on the table next to her.

  “I think you make the best martinis on this or any other world, my love,” she answered, immediately going for a sip.

  “No, I mean about the book. Do you know who killed Cabot yet?”

  “Well, if the nephew didn’t do it, it was almost certainly his first wife.”

  “Hey, you didn’t cheat and read the ending first did you?”

  “No, it’s just that so many of these murder stories are predictable. If you and I have learned one thing about life,” she said, pausing for another taste of her drink, “it’s that there is nothing predictable about it.”

  The smile faded from his face. He sat down on the edge of her chaise, taking her hand into his. “Look, I know this all didn’t turn out the way—”

  Quickly, she pushed herself forward, pressing a kiss onto her husband’s lips.

  “Stop,” she said as their mouths parted. “Just… stop. It all turned out fine. Look around—most people dream of the kind of life we live now.”

  “I know, but you are not most people. I doubt that a few years ago your dream was self-imposed exile.”

  “Only because I wasn’t aiming high enough,” she said, sweeping her hand affectionately across the top of his smooth head. “Aren’t you going to have a cocktail?”

  “Not right now,” he said standing. “Actually, I thought I’d take a quick dip in the pool. Join me?”

  “No, I think I’ll stay here and find out who killed Cabot,” she said picking up her reader again. “Besides, I want to enjoy the last of the day’s sun.”

  As her husband headed back inside the house, a gust of wind swept across the deck. The days of summer were few now—autumn marched on the Sunshine Coast.

  “The breeze is picking up,” said David. “You’re not cold, are you? Do you want a light jacket?”

  “No, my love—I’m fine.”

  He stood in the doorway for a long moment, casting a loving gaze upon his wife.

  “The sun feels good, doesn’t it?” he said finally.

  “It does,” she answered, looking skyward to Earth’s single yellow star. “Ever so good.”

  31: Cataclysm

  The Ruins of Paris

  Earth

  Frank Carr dreaded this day for more reasons than one.

  He and his ten-person crew were working in and around what used to be called the Latin Quarter of the ancient city of Paris. Obviously, Carr wasn’t the only one with the idea of exploring the rubble of Earth’s past. Other companies had set up shop over the remains of many of the town’s ancient museums and art galleries. As far as Carr was concerned, they could have the Louvre, d’Orsay, and the other high profile sites. Most of the great treasures from this ancient metropolis left Earth during the Diaspora three-hundred years ago. The Mona Lisa was currently in a museum on the planet Gerrha. Winged Victory was in a private collection on Galba. The Venus de Milo was resting in the state gallery of the Tyreni Star Nation.

  Carr had decided to concentrate his efforts on the remains of something called the Sorbonne. Great universities of the past were located here, and institutions of learning collected more than knowledge. They collected art and statuary, manuscripts and formulae—the varied products of human hands, hearts, and minds.

  “Boss, we got a problem,” spoke a voice over his comm badge. It was Voss Mumphrey, his foreman. “Could you come over to the base hut right away?”

  “Damn it, Voss—can’t it wait? We have about three hours of daylight left and I’d really like to get into that vault we found in building six before nightfall.”

  There was a long pause from Mumphrey. It was hard to keep secrets from a secret agent, and Carr had a good idea what was going on.

  “C’mon, Boss. This won’t take long. If I don’t see ya’ like right now, we got a bigger problem than we already got. You get my meaning?”

  Etta is here…

  “You’re either speaking in stupid gibberish or clever code, Voss, and I’m not sure which. Be right over.”

  During the Diaspora of Humankind, many cultural treasures that were not lifted from the planet on the first arkships were stored away in locked, airtight facilities for retrieval later. Most were never recovered, hence the potential value of discovering a large underground vault. But first, Carr would have to deal with ‘the problem.’ It would probably take about an hour.

  The base hut was a mobile office. Used as a headquarters, it was roomy and had computers, bathroom facilities, storage rooms—all the necessities for a work site. As Carr stepped inside, he wasn’t alone—Voss had summoned the entire crew.

  “What’s up, Voss? We can’t do much work with everyone in here,” said Carr calmly, trying to hide his irritation.

  “I know, Frank, but everybody needs to be here. We got ourselves a problem.”

  Carr looked around the room at his work crew. There were varied expressions on their faces, ranging from looks of concern to sneers of amusement.

  “And what’s this problem?” Carr asked, playing along.

  Voss put a hand to his mouth and coughed, a move to cover up the fact that he was about to laugh out loud.

  “Well, we got ourselves a fire,” said the large man. “And it’s a pretty big one.”

  “A fire,” said Carr suspiciously. “Where is it?”

  From the back room came the sound of his wife’s voice. “Right here!” she shouted.

  Sanchez walked into the main office carrying a birthday cake, replete with blazing candles. “Happy Birthday!” yelled everyone as they began to applaud.

  Carr smiled. “Are there really thirty-nine candles on that cake?”

  “Not even close,” said Sanchez. “What do you want us to do—burn down the city?”

  Everyone laughed and then broke into an ancient song.

  * * * *

  The only thing worse than getting old was being loudly reminded of it, thought Carr as he swallowed the last bite of cake. Still, good intentions and all…

  “Thanks everyone, I appreciate your kind wishes,” he said to his crew. “You should all thank Etta too. After all, I would have never let you take an hour off work in the middle of the afternoon.”

  Carr looked around at the smiling faces. He really did have a good crew. They were all from Bakkoa, the new capital of Earth located roughly five-hundred kilometers to the south of Paris. Most of them were New Earthers, refugees from another universe. Three others were immigrants from various worlds in the Renaissance Sector.

  “I hate to break up the party, but…”

  “The Boss is right,” Voss said. “We got us a vault to crack in building six. Time to be at it.”

  As the crew began to drift out of the office, several mobiles chimed simultaneously.

  “Uh-oh, news alert,” said Carr softly to his wife. “This is never good.”

  Molly Egan was a recent arrival from Sarissa, like Carr and Sanchez themselves. Standing near them, she muttered softly as she read the message.
“No… no, no, no!”

  “Molly, what’s wrong?” asked Sanchez, but the woman didn’t answer. She just stood there, petrified.

  Marc Henner, one of Carr’s field techs, looked up from his mobile, the blood drained out of his face. “This can’t be happening. Frank—turn on ONElink.”

  The few people that had left were returning to the office, all with mobiles in hand and expressions of horror on their faces.

  “Computer,” said Carr, “show me ONElink. Project it on my desk at double standard size.”

  As the image came to life, an announcer was speaking with graphics and maps being intermingled into his presentation. The man giving the report was having difficulty, his voice periodically breaking with emotion.

  …that the fail-safe mechanism on the Gate did not deploy, or was perhaps overridden, which allowed multiple hostile ships to enter the system.

  Once again, for those of you who may have just joined us, the Essadonian colony world of Kolo Khiva has been savagely attacked by what are believed to be warships of an alien race known as the Massang. Officials in Essadon have confirmed that the largest city on Kolo Khiva, Caspadene, has been bombarded from space by nuclear missiles. The entire city, and the nearly three million people who occupied it… obliterated, destroyed.

  The militaries of every human starhold have been placed on their highest state of alert. In an unprecedented move, the governments of both the Sarissan Empire and the Jangsuvian Worlds have issued a joint statement saying that, and I’m quoting here, ‘an alien attack upon any human world is an attack upon all of humankind. The Sarissan Empire and Jangsuvian Worlds stand together in—’”

  “Computer, off.”

  Everyone started talking at once.

  “The Massang? I’ve never heard of them.”

  “Doesn’t Manny Arcino’s brother live on Kolo Khiva?”

  “Etta, you’re a contractor for the EarthFed military—could we be attacked like that?”