When Stars Fall (The Star Scout Saga Book 4)

by GARY DARBY

  Dason turned to Brant. “We don’t have a choice; we can’t drag this out, and Sami needs medical attention. I’ll stay behind and get the recording.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Brant asked.

  “He’s on my team,” Dason answered. “I’m responsible for him.”

  Brant took a deep breath and peered at Dason. “I guess that’s the only option we have,” he replied.

  He turned and ordered, “Everyone out. Nase, help me with Sami.”

  As Brant leaned over to get Sami up, he whispered to Dason, “Be very careful, I trust this guy about as far as I could throw his ship.”

  “I know, sir,” Dason murmured, “the same here.”

  Dason pulled out his weapon and watched his teammates troop out, with Brant and Nase carrying Sami through the airlock.

  The Faction member started to reach for the gun, but Dason stopped him with a sharp, “Hold it!”

  With his weapon trained on the man, Dason eased over to the airlock. He slid a hand over the locking pad, causing the first hatch to slide back and took a covering position just inside the lock.

  From there, he was able to keep a watchful eye on the Faction and gave him some protection at the same time.

  “Go ahead,” Dason grated through clenched teeth. The man eased the disruptor out. Casually, he thumbed the activator and lowered the weapon in Dason’s direction.

  With his other hand, he picked up the shard and activated the tiny embedded microphone. He spoke so low that Dason couldn’t understand a word. Done, he held the memory shard up so that Dason could see.

  “Slide it across,” Dason ordered.

  The Gadion bent down, and sent the shard rattling across the metal floor to hit with a soft clink against the airlock threshold. Dason started to bend down to pick it up but stopped and motioned with his weapon. “Move back,” he ordered.

  Jones smiled and sidestepped out of view. Dason scooped up the shard, bolted out the airlock and sprinted down the ramp. He hadn’t made it ten yards, when, behind him, the ship’s engines began to whine as the Faction member powered up the ship for flight.

  Afraid that the man would turn the ship’s onboard weapons on him, Dason raced from the building, the shard held tight in his fist.

  He dashed around the corner and dove behind some outlying machinery just as the Star Sprite shot out of the hangar doors.

  The small craft flashed over the rolling terrain for several seconds, gaining speed. It lifted its nose straight up and powered skyward; in seconds, it was lost to view.

  Dason whirled at the sounds of muffled footsteps but lowered his weapon when Brant and Granger came into view. “You okay?” Brant asked between breaths.

  Dason smiled in response. “I’m good,” he replied.

  “Did you get the shard?” Brant quickly questioned.

  Dason held up the smoky brown, oblong, crystal looking object and handed it to Brant. “Yeah,” Dason answered, “but it’s too bad we had to let him go. He has a lot to answer for.”

  Brant and Granger exchanged small smiles. “Yes, he does,” Brant responded and glanced skyward. “Not to worry, I have the feeling that we’re going to meet him again real soon and give him the opportunity to answer for his crimes.”

  Dason glanced from one to another with a quizzical expression. “What do you mean?”

  Brant clapped Dason on the back. “Tell you later. Right now, we need to get Sami to a doctor and see what’s on this recording. Hopefully, we’re one step closer to finding Tor’al.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Star date: 2443.097

  Alpha Pegasi Three

  Laughing, the voice seemed to come out of thin air. You scouts are denser than a protonium star, there’s just one place he could be, the same place I’m headed, only you’re too stupid to figure it out.

  Dason glanced around at the huddled faces of Brant, Alena, Nase and Shanon. Only the soft whirring of the air circulation system and the occasional click from the pilot’s console broke the silence.

  Gesturing at the shard Dason directed, “Shanon, let’s hear it, again.”

  Shanon reached out and ran a finger over the memory shard’s playback function. “You scouts are denser than a protonium star, there’s just one place he could be, the same place I’m headed, only you’re too stupid to figure it out.”

  Brant shook his head in frustration. “I was afraid that he was going to give us nonsense, and that’s exactly what we have, nonsense.”

  He glanced around at the circle of scouts. “Unless one of you can make sense of that.”

  Squeezed in the corner behind Shanon, who sat in the pilot’s seat, Dason considered the Gadion’s words and started to speak when a rustling of clothing caused him to turn.

  TJ stuck her head into the pilot pod and asked in a hopeful tone, “Heard anything?”

  Brant shook his head. “No. Remember, Granger and Lia have to go easy. They can’t just barge in and demand to see a doctor. Kardis City is known to have Faction sympathizers, we don’t want to tip them off that we’re here.”

  “Or the authorities,” Nase commented dryly.

  “Or the authorities,” Brant affirmed.

  “I know,” TJ sighed in response. “It’s just that—”

  “How’s he doing?” Dason asked quickly, hearing the pain in TJ’s voice and guessing that even with the Aal out, Sami was still gravely ill.

  TJ gave a tiny shake of her head. “Not good. His blood pressure leveled off, but it’s still way too low, almost red-line. He’s feverish, and I’m afraid his wound is infected.”

  “You gave him the wide-spectrum antibiotic?” Brant asked.

  “Of course,” TJ answered at once.

  “I know it’s hard,” Brant replied, “but we just have to give both the medicine and Granger time to work.”

  “And if neither pans out?” TJ questioned tight-lipped.

  “Then we’ll take Sami directly to the medical facility here,” Brant stated firmly. “I’ll stay with him and the rest of you boost off-planet.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” Dason replied hurriedly. “I’m his team leader, if anyone stays with Sami, by rights, it should be me.”

  “And if it comes to that,” TJ pronounced, “I think it will take at least two of us to watch over Sami, don’t you think?”

  Brant’s eyes went from TJ to Dason who gave him an approving nod. “Of course,” Brant affirmed, “at least the two of you.”

  With that, TJ turned and went back to tend to Sami. No one spoke for some time until Dason asked, “How long do we wait? Sami’s not getting any better.”

  “I know,” Brant replied in a sharp sigh. “But remember, there’s more at stake here than just Sami. I can’t jeopardize our mission, not until I’ve used every option available to me.”

  He met Dason’s eyes. “I won’t let Sami die, I promise you. When the time comes, and I’m convinced that there is no other way, we’ll take him into the settlement and make sure he gets the best medical care that they can offer.

  “But right now, without knowing what reception we’d get, I’m not willing to risk exposing any more of us. That’s why I only sent those two into town and with specific instructions not to advertise that they were Star Scouts or that there are scouts nearby.”

  He leaned toward Dason with an reassuring expression. “I know it’s hard, but as I told TJ, give it a chance to work, okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dason answered.

  “Good,” Brant replied, settled back in his chair, and gestured at the shard. “So, does anyone have any thoughts on what he’s saying or not saying, as the case may be?”

  Nase, who had been leaning against the bulkhead, straightened and said slowly, “I believe that one thing we can infer from the message is that Tor’al is still alive. That, at least, works in our favor.”

  “That’s true,” Brant replied, “but that alone doesn’t get us any closer to his whereabouts.”

  “What about here? Ka
rdis City, I mean,” Shanon asked. “You said that there were Faction cells in the city, what if that’s where they’re holding him?”

  “Possible, of course,” Brant replied. “And once we know about Sami, we may just have to go into the burg and see what we can find. Maybe use our LifeSensors to—” Granger’s voice over the t-comm interrupted him.

  “Brant, this is Granger.”

  “Go ahead,” he answered.

  “We’re inbound with a doctor,” he stated.

  “Is he coming willingly?” Brant asked.

  “Affirmative,” Granger replied.

  “ETA?”

  “We just lifted. Ten minutes.”

  “Make it sooner if you can,” Brant encouraged. “Sami’s having a hard time of it.”

  “Throttle’s wide open,” Granger responded.

  Brant gestured to Dason. “Let TJ know, will you?”

  Dason squeezed past Alena and Nase and trotted back to where Sami lay on the med table in the little infirmary.

  TJ held a cold compress to his forehead dabbing away the beads of sweat. “Hey,” Dason said in a quiet voice, “great news. Granger is inbound with a doctor.”

  TJ’s eyes glistened as she asked, “How soon?”

  “Ten minutes or less,” Dason stated.

  Sami let out a groan and Dason leaned over him. Sami opened his eyes and peered at Dason. “How are you doing, fella?” Dason asked in a concerned voice.

  Sami shut his eyes and then opened them again. “I was doing better a minute ago,” he mumbled weakly, “I had a much prettier nurse than you.”

  Dason smiled and patted Sami’s arm. “Hang in there, we’ve got a doctor coming aboard, he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  Sami gave a small nod, closed his eyes, and appeared to drift off again.

  Dason stepped outside the little sickbay and leaned against the bulkhead. He cocked his head back to stare at the ceiling. So much had happened in just a few days.

  A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions spun in his mind until one seemed to flame and burn into his conscience, causing him to hang his head.

  His father!

  He hadn’t thought about Deklon Marrel in days, had almost forgotten about the stark alien mind images showing his father stranded on some unknown, barren planet. How could he have forgotten that?

  All of his life he had believed that his father was still alive somewhere Out There and now, he might have actual proof of that possibility.

  He punched his thigh with a tight fist. How could he just brush that aside, let it become an afterthought? Moreover, of more importance, what was he going to do about it?

  He became aware of a nearby presence and turned to see Shanon staring at him with a puzzled, concerned expression. “Dason,” she asked, “what’s wrong? Is it Sami?”

  “No and yes,” he replied. “Sami’s still the same, very weak and well, being Sami.” He repeated Sami’s comment and gave her a little smile.

  Shanon peered into Dason’s face and gave him a little nudge with her shoulder. “Hey, he’s going to be okay. The doctor is on his way, and he’ll fix Sami up good as new.”

  She lifted his chin so that their eyes met. “What about you? If what I just saw didn’t have anything to do with Sami, why were you trying to punch a hole in your leg?”

  Dason leaned his head back against the bulkhead and bit down on his lower lip. He didn’t speak for several moments, then turned to her and said in a rush, “Sami’s hurt bad, we can’t find Tor’al, there’s a Faction master at the head of the Imperium, the Mongans and the Sha’anay are out for our blood . . .”

  His voice trailed off as he shook his head. Raising his eyes to her, he said, “It just feels as if everything is falling apart around us and we’re helpless to stop it.”

  Shanon listened with an intent expression, her eyes never leaving Dason. “Well, yes, there is all that, but I don’t think we’re all that helpless. In fact, I believe that we’re going to end up on the right side of this.”

  “You do?”

  She smiled at him and leaned closer. “Umm,” she murmured, “I really think so. My dad used to say to me when times would get a little tough around home, ‘no one ever promised that life was going to be easy, but I promise you that if you choose to live a good life, in the end, it will have been worth it all.”

  Laughing lightly, she said, “He would also say, ‘choose your fights carefully, especially if the other fellow is a lot bigger and nastier than you’.”

  Dason laughed with her. “That last one I can relate to. I seem to not be so smart in some of the scraps I’ve gotten me and the rest of us into lately.”

  She gave him a little shoulder nudge. “Hey, none of us are complaining one bit.” Turning soft eyes to him, she murmured, “And as for me, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, it’s definitely been worth it all.”

  They peered into each other’s eyes for a moment before Shanon asked huskily, “Now, Star Scout Dason Thorne, let’s hear it. I have a feeling that there’s something else bothering you.”

  Dason leaned back against the wall and let out a deep breath. Glancing sideways at her, he gave her a grudging smile.. “You’re right, compared to everything else it’s small but—"

  “It’s still very much on your mind,” she replied, “and very important to you.” She leaned closer. “I’m listening.”

  Hesitating for an instant, Dason said, “I–I feel as though I’m letting my father down.”

  “Your father?” Shanon questioned with furrowed brows. “I don’t understand. How are you letting your father down?”

  Dason wet his lips and said, “It’s something I’ve haven’t told you about, but now that we . . .”

  He hesitated but she slid her hand in his and coaxed, “But now that we . . .”

  Inhaling deeply, Dason began, “My father was, no, is Star Scout Deklon Marrel.”

  Going on, he explained about the allegations against his father; that he had deserted his Star Scout team on Veni, left them to die to allegedly steal a lode of Kolomite ore, and had been missing for all these years.

  Stopping, he stared down at the floor, trying to decide if he should go on. “There’s more?” Shanon gently asked. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere if that’s what you’re afraid of. I’ll listen to anything you want to share with me.”

  Squeezing her hand, Dason gave her a grateful smile. He then described the implanted Mongan images in his mind from his memory sharing with the aliens, vivid scenes that showed Deklon Marrel alive and marooned on an alien world.

  Stepping away from the bulkhead, Dason paced the narrow passageway as if he were a caged animal. “I see these images Shanon,” he declared, “and they feel as real as my memories from yesterday. I know, I just know he’s alive, and I’ve got to go find him, to rescue him but–”

  “Can’t,” Shanon finished for him. “Because of everything else that’s going on around us.”

  “Exactly,” Dason nodded dejectedly and stared at the floor.

  Shanon reached out to run a gentle hand across his Dason’s arm. “And you feel guilty because in the midst of all that’s happening, you haven’t been able to go and help him.”

  Dason gave a shrug of his shoulders and whispered, “I guess so.”

  Her hand lifted his chin so that she could meet his eyes. “Dason, let me ask you a question. If your father could speak to you right now, and he knew what you, and we, and the Imperium is facing, would he tell you to come looking for him, or would he say to you to stay here and carry on with this fight?”

  “That’s not fair,” Dason answered. “You know what he’d say.”

  “Yes, I do,” Shanon replied firmly. “Because if the roles were reversed, that’s what I know the son would tell the father.”

  Dason shook his head and rubbed at his forehead, trying to sort through the jumbled thoughts in his mind. “It’s just so hard. After all these years, to finally have a glimmer of hope that he truly is alive, b
ut not being able to do anything about it.”

  Shanon reached down and again took Dason’s hand. “I understand, Dason, I honestly do. It must be incredibly hard on you. But if you’ll stay and see this through, we’ll go and find your father, I promise you.”

  Dason squeezed her fingers. “We?” he asked.

  Shanon let her gaze drop, her cheeks became a bit blushed, and with her voice faltering just a bit said, “Well, maybe I’m being a bit presumptuous but I thought . . .”

  “No,” Dason replied as he clasped her hand tightly. “I think ‘we’ would be just fine.”

  Just then, the airlock hatch sprang open and a short, heavyset man, with a gray, scraggly beard stepped inside the ship. It was evident from the way he turned his ruddy face from side to side that he was wondering which way to go.

  Shanon was quick to say, “I hope that’s the doctor.”

  Dason motioned with a raised hand and called out, “If you’re the doctor, over here, sir.”

  Close behind the portly figure came Granger, carrying an oversized kit-bag over one shoulder. The man lumbered down the corridor and then stepped into the small sickbay.

  He took one look at Sami and in a raspy, deep bass voice said, “I’m Doctor Baier. Is this the patient with the Aal inside of him?”

  “The Aal is out, doctor,” TJ answered and reached over to remove Sami’s bandage. “But the wound is still open, his blood pressure is very low, and he’s developed a high fever.”

  “Who removed the sandworm?” Doctor Baier grunted.

  “I did, doctor,” Dason answered. “With the help of, uh, another person.”

  “Where is the Aal now?”

  “The other man took it,” Dason replied. “It’s not here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “How long was it in him before you got it out, and how big was the thing?”

  “Maybe twenty, thirty minutes,” Dason answered. “And it was about half as big around as my forearm and close to eighteen centimeters long.”

  The doctor rubbed the back of his knuckles along his cheek whiskers. “This fella that helped you get the Aal out, did he tell you to do anything else with your friend here?”