Starhold's Fate

by J. Alan Field

  Murmurs rose and faded from the dark edges of the hall. Belford mistakenly thought Carr’s rant had won her points. “Well, well. What do you make of such insolence, Majesty?”

  Ardith cocked her head with eyes fixed on Carr, a small smile forming on her lips. “I think Commander Sanchez is a very discerning woman. And to anyone who still doubts that these are exactly the people we need,” she said turning directly to Belford, “they should put those qualms to rest—now.”

  Lord Khoury put a fisted hand to his mouth and produced a fake cough to gain attention. “If I may make a suggestion, perhaps it is time that we explain to our friends what we expect of them.”

  “Exactly so,” said Ardith, finally releasing Belford from a humbling stare and favoring Khory with a smile. “A fine idea, my lord. Lady Belford, please begin.”

  Belford stood as a set of holographic displays blinked to life around her, the centerpiece being an image of a seven-planet star system.

  “As everyone knows, three years ago the Essadon Starhold’s colony on Kolo Khiva was destroyed in a surprise attack by the Massang. Three million people were killed, and at the time, it was believed that the Massang had hacked into the hypergate system in order to carry out the assault. Gate security was reworked and the public assured that the system is now invulnerable.”

  Sanchez interrupted. “My Lady, are you saying the Massang didn’t hack the system?”

  “Oh, the system was hacked all right, but we are no longer convinced the Massang did it on their own.”

  The hidden spectators buzzed and one of them stepped into the light. A rotund man in his sixties spoke in a raspy voice. “Your Majesty! This is a most serious accusation to make after all of these years. Is Lady Belford suggesting that someone—some human—opened the door and let the Massang into our Gate network?”

  Ardith gave a single nod. “I’m afraid she is, Vice-Minister Blanchard. Go on, Belford.” When Carr turned back around to look, the Vice-Minister had already stepped back into concealment.

  Lady Belford adjusted the hologram to tighter scale. “This is the Upsillion system, located five light-years spinward of Pontus. The Ortelli Mining Group maintains an extensive operation there. They recently discovered a malfunction in one of their FTL comm arrays located within this star system. When Ortelli technicians investigated, they discovered that their platform had been tampered with. Someone was using the corporate comms to relay their own messages.”

  “Messages between where and where?” asked Carr.

  “Between Pontus and the region of space controlled by the Massang. Someone on Pontus has been communicating with the enemy, and might still be. Also, we have no idea how many other satellites could possibly have been compromised.”

  Carr tilted his head in curiosity. “And Ortelli reported this to the Pontian government?”

  “Yes,” answered Belford.

  “And in the spirit of interstellar cooperation, our Pontian friends passed this information on to us.”

  “No. Our own operatives on Pontus alerted us.”

  “OMI?” asked Sanchez.

  Lady Belford looked toward Ardith, apparently seeking permission to answer.

  “SSB?” pushed Sanchez.

  Ardith finally answered. “Kaskian intelligence.”

  “I wasn’t aware there was an intelligence section of the Kaskian Guard, ma’am,” said Sanchez, disapproval creeping into her voice.

  Before Ardith replied, another voice came from the shadows. “I assume you will concentrate your search on the planet Pontus?” Unlike the previous man, this speaker did not show himself. The voice had a strange, synthesized quality to it.

  “You are correct, Ambassador,” said Ardith.

  Ambassador? An alien ambassador is here?

  “Commander Sanchez, Major Carr,” the Empress continued. “Tomorrow, you will leave for Pontus aboard a Gideon Universal corporate vessel. If there are humans assisting the Massang, or people from any starhold, they must be rooted out and stopped. Our people on Pontus have more information and will fill you in once you arrive there.”

  Carr halfway put up his hand, as if asking permission to speak. “Majesty, why not just turn this over to OMI? Why call us in?”

  Lord Khoury responded. “Carr, it’s like this. Director Cabot has done an excellent job of cleaning house after the Jason Tolbert mess, but…”

  Ardith motioned Khoury to silence. “Lady Belford has advised against using OMI, and I’m inclined to agree. There are concerns that people within my own government might be connected to these traitors to humanity, these fifth columnists. If so, we dare not tip our hand. I want my own people working on this. I want the best.”

  “Us?” asked Sanchez pointing an index finger at herself.

  “You,” Ardith said firmly. “By Imperial command, I reinstated both of you to active service within the Sarissan military and decree that you retain your former ranks.”

  Carr clasped his hands behind him and took a little bow. “With deepest respect—what if we don’t want to be reinstated?”

  The congenial Lord Khoury turned defensive, barking out a line that might have otherwise come from the dour Belford. “What part of ‘Imperial command’ do you not understand, Major?”

  Again, Ardith raised a hand to quiet Khoury. “My friends, we need you. Humankind is in a desperate war for survival. After all these years, I know that you are still the very best at what you do.”

  There had been a role reversal since the beginning of the audience. It was Khoury who was fuming now, while Lady Belford stood looking content, like she had somehow manipulated things to this point.

  Ardith smiled. “Besides, Frank,” she added. “I’m asking nicely. What do you say?”

  Carr exchanged a quick look with his wife.

  “You have our service, My Empress,” Sanchez answered for both of them.

  “And… our loyalty,” Carr added with emphasis for Lady Belford’s benefit.

  Ardith nodded. “Excellent. Understand that while on this mission, I grant you both the right of Imperial Aegis. In my name and in the name of the Empire, you may command any Sarissan operatives or forces available, and take any action you see fit in order to accomplish your objective.” Her voice turned severe. “I emphasize that last point—any action.”

  * * * *

  After the audience, they sat in the foyer of the Jade Hall awaiting Vickery. Sanchez crossed her arms and pushed back into the soft couch. “Well, that wasn’t creepy or anything.”

  “No, no, not at all,” joked Carr. “It’s the thing I miss most about intelligence work—running into such interesting people. Of course, that usually happens in the field, not in the briefing.”

  “And aliens,” reminded Sanchez. “Don’t forget the aliens. Gods, I would have given anything to actually meet… him? It? You know, the ambassador.”

  The pair were spending the night at the Palace before leaving in the morning for Pontus. Carr was considering the upcoming mission and also trying to gauge what just happened.

  “What do you think?” he asked Sanchez. “Pick up on any vibes I might have missed in there? You know, aside from the sheer bizarreness of it all.”

  Sanchez thought about it as she watched people walk by. “For starters, I’d bet a thousand dennics that Ardith and Lord Khoury are lovers.”

  Carr gave her a surprised look. “What makes you think that?”

  “Their eyes. They kept going back to each other.”

  “Maybe they just don’t trust each other,” teased Carr. “That’s why I watched you so closely on our first mission.”

  “That and your pervy thoughts.”

  “Those, too.”

  “Any pervy thoughts about your friend, Lady Belford? Man, that woman really hates us.”

  “Actually, I’m not sure she does,” replied Carr. “Unless I miss my guess, that whole rant against us was political theater aimed at whoever was behind those curtains. I see Belford as a control freak. The whole no
tion of sending us to Pontus was probably Ardith’s idea, or maybe Khoury’s. Belford just wanted everyone to know it wasn’t hers.”

  “So, if we screw up, she has clean hands.”

  “Something like that,” said Carr, whose concentration was broken by the approach of Lieutenant Hawkins. “Well, if it isn’t the Quijano Kid.”

  The young man forced a smile. “Colonel Vickery sends his apologies, but he had to attend to something urgent. I am to show you to your apartment. Also, Her Majesty asks the pleasure of your company for dinner this evening.”

  “Clothes!” exclaimed Sanchez urgently. “We packed in a hurry. I didn’t think to…”

  “The Palace clothier will provide you with something suitable,” assured Hawkins. “Follow me, please.”

  Carr stood and wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist. “Better enjoy yourself this evening, my love. We might not be invited to dinner here again for a long, long time.”

  6: Ruin

  Massang flagship Chisellion

  Hyperspace

  “First Protector, a signal from Battle Group Talon. Their Regent affirms his compliance and reports that they are under way for the Oplacai.”

  Harradoss stared at his subordinate. Unless one was in the exhilaration of battle, it wasn’t appropriate to look too satisfied when dealing with an under officer, even if the news he brought was good.

  “I accept your report, Terux. Leave us.”

  The great Massang armada was coming together. From all corners of the Unity, various commanders were acknowledging the change in orders, and by doing so, giving their consent to the new leadership. Not everyone was rallying around Harradoss, but it would be enough. Really, it was better this way. His followers will be pure Massang, true Massang—those worthy of this grand adventure.

  “That makes five battle groups,” reported Phersu as he tracked the disposition of their forces. The two leaders were cloistered with faithful aides in the command chamber of the battleship Chisellion. “I estimate that by the time we reach the rendezvous point, we may be some two-hundred warships strong, provided we pick up a few more stragglers along the way.”

  “In addition to the Vanguard ships or including them?” asked Harradoss.

  “Including them.”

  “How many capital ships?”

  “I see that our old comrade Vadana has joined us. It will be good—”

  “Phersu,” Harradoss interrupted. “Capital ships—how many?”

  The second-in-command’s enthusiasm ebbed. “Not as many as I had hoped.”

  “Give me a count. How many battleships?”

  “Eighteen. Twenty-four if we can convince Regent Cyprian’s forces to join us. It is imperative that we have them.”

  “I will persuade Cyprian. And remember, Phersu, that the Vanguard ships are worth two of every regular ship. It will be enough. All we need do is to hold the star system for a few days and…” Harradoss paused, noting the troubled look of his colleague. “You doubt this path, my friend?”

  The other Massang forced his large eyes open as wide as possible. The ridges of his face flushed with a momentary bright orange glow. “I do not doubt, First Protector. I am simply uncomfortable about utilizing the Oplacai. Remember, it is modeled after an alien device.”

  “But an ingenious alien device, nonetheless.”

  “I understand, Harradoss, but if the aliens are impure, will not their technology be flawed as well?” Phersu blurted out. It was bad enough that Phersu was wavering, but his questions were beginning to attract the attention of some of the command chamber staff.

  “As a superior people, we can take the seed of an idea and make it work where lesser races cannot,” explained Harradoss. “Even impure beings have things to teach us. It is dangerous to underestimate those with whom we are forced to share the galaxy. If our dear friend Minz were still here, he would agree.”

  Of course, because Minz had misjudged a foe, their former comrade was not here. On the eve of the current war, the fool Minz had been tricked by a human commander into revealing the Unity’s agenda. Realizing the true nature of Massang conquest and dominance, humankind rushed to ally themselves with the Lytori. The result was a disaster for the Massang. Minz, however, suffered a more immediate calamity when Harradoss condemned him to death by vivisection for his blunder.

  Perhaps a reminder of Minz’s fate will help Phersu to have more faith, thought Harradoss.

  Phersu glanced around, noting that others were listening to their exchange. “Your clarity of purpose is inspirational, First Protector,” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I will learn from your example.”

  A chime sounded as a holo image formed in front of them. It was Captain Terux calling from the bridge. “First Protector, we will arrive in the Moz system shortly. You asked to be informed.”

  Harradoss grunted an acknowledgement. “Have our fleet assume high orbit around Moz Prime. It is time to pay our respects to Governor Sturka.”

  * * * *

  “Harradoss, have you gone mad?”

  The holographic image of Governor Sturka flickered as thunderous sounds could be heard in the distance behind him. He had no doubt been rushed to a position of relative safety when the bombardment began.

  “If this is a personal vendetta against me for not joining in your scheme, then I surrender myself. I forfeit my life to you, but spare my people. I ask this in the name of Purity.”

  Harradoss scowled at the older Massang. “I doubt that a member of Family Sturka has the slightest notion of what real Purity is.”

  After destroying the small Moz garrison fleet, Harradoss’s force had begun a devastating attack on the planet. Mass drivers hurled dowel-shaped metal projectiles downward toward the surface. Gravity and kinetic energy then amplified the rain of metal into a cataclysm as the projectiles smashed into the world’s major cities. It was a familiar Massang tactic, one usually employed against alien worlds that refused to submit.

  “Allow me to enlighten you, Governor” snarled Harradoss. “For generations, Family Sturka has sat entrenched on the Purity Council, reaping the rewards of power in order to accumulate even more wealth and privilege, all the while watching as our society rotted away. Just look at where your leadership has taken us. The alien alliance could not have been this successful against us if we were not already a ruined society—so ruined, in fact, that we must begin anew. Moz is a nest of contamination and long overdue for purging.”

  Sturka’s large eyes shifted in thought. “All right, if this is how it must be,” he said finally. “You lead, Harradoss, and my family will follow. I pledge our resources to you. Moz is a rich planet—allow us to add to the strength of your cause.”

  “You would say anything now to save yourself,” countered Harradoss. “It is over.”

  Sturka zel’ Nor tried to speak in a calm voice. “Harradoss, listen to me. Over five billion Massang are here on Moz. They are not tainted aliens, they are Massang. You are killing your own people, people who will gladly follow your leadership.” After a brief pause, Sturka shouted into the camera. “Shartok Phersu, if you are there with Harradoss, I authorize you to assume command in the name of the Council. We will—”

  Harradoss terminated Sturka’s transmission as he turned to another image standing beside him. “Captain Terux, when the bombardment program has run its course, put the fleet on course for the Oplacai.”

  Phersu stepped forward. “You do not wish to deploy land forces to capture Sturka?”

  “It would be pointless. If the bombardment does not kill him, his own people will,” said Harradoss. “Forget Sturka zel’ Nor and his clan. Forget Moz. We move forward to Cor Caroli.”

  7: Denlora

  Presidio Space Fortress

  Orbiting Sarissa

  It was one of Pettigrew’s favorite places. Officially named the Level Ten Conference Deck, most people on Presidio Station simply called it ‘the Balcony.’

  The large room gave the appearance of bein
g open to space, an illusion produced by the clear shieldglass domed roof and passive lighting. Look in any direction except to the floor and you caught a glimpse of the Black. Tilt your head upward and you had a view of the Milky Way that took most people’s breath away. If this meeting lasted long enough, in due course the station would rotate so that the planet Sarissa would appear to be hanging above them. Pettigrew always enjoyed that particular sight, even though it might not be for everyone. A few of his new staffers already looked like they were battling some mild vertigo.

  Chaz Pettigrew, Captain Nyondo, and four of his aides sat in a semi-circle across from their Lytori counterparts—Admiral Marius, his flag captain, Sulla, and three other alien staffers. Pettigrew and Nyondo had known Marius and Sulla for four years now, since their first meeting in the 33 Hydrae system. Marius was as close to a Lytori friend as he had.

  “Admiral on the deck,” called out the human voice of one of the many Presidio staff officers darting about while trying to remain inconspicuous. A door opened at the far end of the room allowing one human and a Lytori to emerge from the turbolift.

  “Be seated, everyone,” said the man as he approached the group. All of the humans except Pettigrew crisply shot back into their seats. It took the six-limbed Lytori a few extra seconds to maneuver their mantis-like bodies back down into chairs specifically designed for them. Lytori furniture could be found all over Presidio Station these days, as well as in most other Sarissan installations across the Renaissance Sector.

  “Admiral Sykes, it’s good to see you, sir,” greeted Pettigrew.

  “And you, Chaz,” said the smiling Sykes as they shook hands. “Admiral Tovar sends her regards, but she is still occupied in the Algol system. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the time being. Have you met Ambassador Primus?” he asked, turning to the Lytori by his side.

  Austen Sykes was in his mid-fifties, with a medium frame and broad, affable face. His high forehead was crowned by curly but thinning dark hair. Like Pettigrew, Sykes was known as an apolitical officer, allowing him to serve through multiple regimes based on merit and not favor. The man had survived the People’s Rebellion, the Polanco assassination, and Channa Maxon’s Ministry of Culture—all with a record virtuous enough to place him second in command of the Imperial Space Force.