Sleeping in the Stars

by D Patrick Wagner

  “I see that. Go back, check on our prisoners and seal up that cell so that there is no chance of escape. Then search the rest of the ship.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Back at the cell, Buster reached into his utility belt, extracted the hand laser, set it on low and used it to spot weld the door to its metal frame. He repeated the process on the hinges. Krag watched through the video as Buster followed his commands and its search algorithms, securing both decks of the pirate ship.

  “The ship is secure, Captain.”

  “Head to the bridge. Contact me when you are in the pilot’s chair.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Once seated, the avatar contacted Major Marston. “I’m ready, Major.”

  “Let’s check the logs, verify that they are pirates.”

  After a quick search, Buster came back. “The logs are blank, Major. I’ve also checked the repair histories and inventory files. They are all blank. It appears that the operating system has been patched to not report any activities by this ship.”

  “What about the registration files?”

  “There is no registration for this ship.”

  “Then we’ve got a pirate. Take the ship down to the moon and land it in an impact crater. I’m sending you the coordinates. I’ll follow you down and come aboard.” Major Krag Marston, of the UFSF, saw the end of his indenture floating in space before him. The derelict of his wingman’s coffin only making the freedom more attainable.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Piloting his fighter, Krag guided his ship to land beside the executive courier, come pirate ship. With both ships, his and the pirate’s, hidden on the dark side of the moon, Major Marston exited the bridge, donned his space suit and hop-stepped over to the pirate ship. With Buster’s avatar at the controls, entry was guaranteed. Once in, the major removed his helmet and pulled his regulation laser sidearm. Walking onto the bridge, he scanned the room and approached his android.

  “Buster, I want you to wipe every piece of electronics with a memory on this ship. I want it stone cold dead. Also, reprogram the entry hatch and let me know what the new key is, so that I can exit.”

  “All of that is against standard operational protocol.”

  “I know. But I still want it done. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “When you are done, you are to go directly back to the ship, secure the avatar and await further instructions.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Major Marston left the bridge and headed to the prison cell where he waited for Buster to finish his tasks. He said nothing. He just waited. After a short time, the major heard the avatar moving to the pressure lock, cycling itself out and exiting the ship. Krag waited some more.

  “I am back on board, Major,” Marston heard.

  “I’m going off line until I return to the ship. Prepare for lift off after my return.”

  “Yes, Major.”

  After sending a mental command to put his mesh computer in sleep mode, Major Marston turned to the three prisoners trapped in the cell. Looking Commander Rice directly in the eyes, he raised the hand weapon and burned a hole through his forehead. The laser burned an exit wound through the back of the skull and left a scorch mark on the cell’s wall. Captain Brady turned towards his commander in shock. Major Marston shot him through the temple. By this time, the steward was backing up, hands in the air mouthing “no, no, no”. Marston’s third shot was also fatal. The three crumpled corpses poured their fluids on the floor as their blood drained and their muscles went slack. Turning from the mess, the killer, Major Krag Marston, put his helmet back on, went to the bridge and shut down all life support as well as any other equipment that was running. The ex-pirate ship, now the anchor to his sanity, would become a frozen mausoleum, waiting for Krag Marston to re-awaken it. As time passed, it also became a collection point for all of the equipment that Marston succeeded in stealing from the Federacy. He returned to the star fighter, stored the coordinates in his personal data pad and launched back into space, back into his persona as a wing commander and fighter pilot for the UFSF.

  Once back on board his fighter, Krag connected his personal data pad to the fighter’s memory banks and proceeded to use a highly illegal and highly effective software hack to erase all records covering the entire timeframe associated with his latest illegal; activities.

  Krag Marston-Now

  “Buster, do we have this hyper-space gate mapped?”

  “Yes, Captain. It links this system with the Bridgelen System. A hyper-space gate links directly from there to the Novius System. The Bridgelen exit and Novius entrance are only six hours apart. We will reach Bridgelen in fourteen days. The entire flight will take twenty-six days.”

  “Release a scout drone to see if we have a welcoming committee. And, notify me when we are one day out from exit.”

  For thirteen days the quiet of hyper-space, the familiar ship noises, the simple tasks of ship operations brought peace to the troubled captain.

  “Captain, there are no ships around the hyper-space gate exit. Just the standard entry post.

  “Apparently, Bridgelen police don’t have agreements with the ones in Arium. Good for us. As soon as we hit space norm, retrieve the drone and vector straight to the Novius hole. I’m tired of this run. Let’s go collect our credits.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A day later, the Griffin sped out of the hyper-space gate, recalled the tracking drone and angled for the Novius singularity. Six hours later, the fast little ship entered the Novius hyper-space gate and Captain Marston settled in for another twelve days of routine boredom, anticipating his payday from Gregor.

  Gregor’s Compound - Then

  After Major Marston had participated in the destruction of one planet, the Federation turned its sights on Lawrence Gregor. Commander Marston and his wing were assigned the task of reconnaissance and first contact. It was during this initial probe that Major Marston first met the galactic criminal.

  After the carrier transporting Major Marston’s wing arrived in system, it headed towards one of the two inhabited planets, Novia Prime. The Major and four space commandos landed in a shuttle on the private landing pad of Gregor’s personal residence. It wasn’t really a landing pad, more of a landing port, large enough to handle small, full-sized space ships. Major Marston wore combat flight gear, his slug thrower on his hip and his gilly hat on his head. The commandos, fully dressed in battle armor and armed with assault weapons, covered the Major as they advanced towards the mansion.

  They were met at the gates to the compound by a dozen men wearing better armor, sporting better weaponry and every bit as disciplined as the Federacy Personnel. A young woman stepped forward, dressed in riding gear.

  “May I help you?” asked the black-haired woman in Galactic English. Her mouth and eyes had the hard lines of someone who constantly scowled.

  “I am Major Marston, of the United Federacy. We are here to curtail the criminal activity that originates on this planet and to take Mr. Lawrence Gregor to the Federacy complex for questioning.”

  “I will see if my father is available. Please wait here.”

  The local force stood at arms, not moving, sweat unheeded as it ran down their faces, salted their brows and stung their eyes. Major Marston stood, fidgeting, while his commandos worked at keeping the same at-arms stance as the other force.

  Time passed. Finally, the woman reappeared. She stood in front of the major, nodded, and said, “Follow me. Mr. Gregor will see you, now.”

  As she turned and strode back through the double gates, four of the security force boxed her. As Major Marston and the four commandos followed, three fell in on each side and the last two brought up the rear. The procession traversed a walkway through gardens of heavy statuary, low ornate walls and sculptured boulders. Constantly scanning his surroundings, Major Marston saw the rock garden, beautifully laid out, beautifully designed. He also saw that its design intentionally became a defensive barrier aga
inst assault.

  Looking around, Marston saw the main building pressed up against the shaved side of a mountain. He saw the three stories with the second and third floors protected by hardened balconies with brick half-height walls running the edges. The roof lay flat, again with the brick palisades surrounding the parameter. All of the windows were cross-grated. Constantly pivoting cameras were everywhere. Whoever Lawrence Gregor was, he took his security seriously. The Major didn’t see any gun emplacements, but he didn’t doubt that they either existed or were readily positioned.

  The group reached the set of massive double doors. A camera adjusted to focus on the woman in charge. “White stars, Harriet Gregor” she spoke into the security box.

  “Approved, ma’am. You are cleared for entry,” came from a concealed speaker.

  After multiple loud clunks of bolts being withdrawn, the massive doors swung outwardly. Upon entering, Major Marston saw that he and his squad were in a large open foyer, granite tiled floors, marble columns reaching two stories high and numerous doors leading off in all directions. Upon entry, Major Marston and the four Federacy commandos found themselves standing in a large waiting area, complete with couches, chairs and a service bar. The woman gestured, “Major Marston, have your men wait here. You will come with me.”

  Checking the surroundings and the encompassing guards, Marston commanded, “men, at ease. Status checks every two minutes.” With that, the Major gestured for the woman to lead the way.

  The two continued to the far back of the hall, followed by two of her guards. A set of double doors, with ornate hinges and locks automatically swung open as they closed the distance. Entering, Major Marston saw a portly man sitting behind an elaborate desk. To his right stood an immaculately dressed, slender man.

  “Father,” Harriet stated.

  “Harriet, how was your ride?”

  “Interrupted,” she replied with a scowl.

  “Well, introduce us.”

  Walking around the desk, she stood at her father’s left, placed one hand on his shoulder and gestured with the other. “This is Major Marston. He demanded an audience. Major Marston, this is Lawrence Gregor,” gesturing towards her father, palm up.

  “Good to meet you, Major. This is my lawyer, Mr. Smith,” Gregor replied.

  “Mr. Gregor,” Marston started. “You are in violation of multiple laws of the Federacy.”

  “Prove it,” was Gregor’s response, tenting his fingers, elbows on his desk.

  “The Federacy knows that you are a producer of banned products and substances. We know that you warehouse and smuggle illegal contraband in this and other star systems.”

  “Prove it,” again the single phrase.

  “We also know that you run the gambling and prostitution in this system.”

  “Mr. Smith?” was Gregor’s only response.

  After clearing his throat, the lawyer began. “Major Marston. If you had enough proof, you would not be standing here. A Federacy Advocate would be in your place. And you would not be here with military commandos. There would be Federacy assault police. This is only an intimidation ploy. It won’t work. I can have a Federacy cease and desist order cut in about an hour.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Smith,” Gregor cut in. “Is that all, major?”

  “We want you to come to the Federacy complex to answer some questions,” Marston replied.

  “So that I can disappear and never breathe free air again? That will never happen.” Turning to his daughter, “Dear, please escort the major and his men out of the compound.” Looking back at Marston, “This meeting is over. Come back when you have something.” Gregor was smart enough to not show any disrespect by pretending to look back at his desktop. He held Major Marston’s eyes until Marston turned away.

  Marston stared back, waiting to see if Lawrence Gregor would wilt under the gaze of a full Major in the Federacy Space Force. Gregor never flinched, smiled or gestured in any way. He just waited until the major executed an about face and left.

  That had been Krag Marston’s first meeting with Lawrence Gregor and his daughter. The Gregor family were criminals. He didn’t like Harriet then and he still didn’t like her. But in Lawrence, he saw something different. He was tough. He was smart. He drove straight to a conclusion. He immediately struck Marston as the same type of calculating risk taker that Marston was. An inkling of an idea was added to Krag’s plan for his Federacy extraction.

  Chapter 4

  Mortek New World- 3 Years ago

  Lord Minister and his friend, Logistics Counselor, strolled down the main road that separated the various breeding domes. “I like the layout, Logistics,” the Lord Minister hissed and clicked. Stopping and pointing to the first dome on his left, he asked, “How are the Assault Queens doing?”

  “Excellently, Lord. They’re young and strong. The first five hundred thousand hatchlings have already been fully fed, so their knowledge absorption is complete. Now they are currently in training. The second five hundred thousand are in the process off feeding and should have full knowledge within another thirty planet cycles. Another five hundred thousand are due for hatching by then.”

  “At this rate, how large of a standing force will we have in three solar cycles?”

  “Approximately ten million.”

  “Very good. What percent of flyers are being hatched?”

  “About a quarter of the troops are flyers, Lord. Their wings are strong.”

  “That’s more than normal. The planet’s flora and fauna must be very nourishing.”

  “It appears so.”

  “How long before our forces outgrow this planet’s food supply?”

  “Numbers indicate that we have those three solar cycles, Lord. Then our war force will need to move to another planet. If we do this, then we can continue to use this planet as the government seat and central control.”

  “Good. Stay on target. I like this world. Let’s not process it entirely. I wouldn’t mind keeping it as my home.

  Pointing to the dome next to the Assault Queen breeding nest, the Lord Minister changed the subject. ” What about the Naval Queen?”

  “She’s aging, Lord. Her egg-laying rate has dropped significantly. And many of the eggs wither before hatching. We have only been able to produce about one hundred thousand new space personnel.”

  “Officers?”

  “Less than five thousand,” Logistics apologized.

  “From the next clutch, pick five and begin feeding them the Naval Queen’s royal Jelly. We need a new Navel Queen.”

  “I’ve already selected the new prospects, Lord. I thought you might want to go in that direction.”

  “Well done, Logistics. Have Materialist begin requisitioning and building assault craft, both space and land. Also attacker craft.”

  It will be done, My Lord.”

  “For the rest of the day the Lord Minister and Logistics Counselor walked the breeding domes, discussed the various nest classes and talked the talk of two close friends. At sunset they two found themselves at an outdoors eating table, squatting on stools, their four legs resting gently on the green grasses of the garden just outside of the nest capitol.

  Spearing a still squirming rodent-like animal, the Lord Minister took his time to extend his tongue and slather the creature with his digestive saliva. Watching as the acid liquefied where it touched, he asked, “So, what do you truly think? Are we going to be able to push into this new civilization and expand our nests?

  Logistics repeated his Lord’s actions, paused for thought and answered, “Yes, I confidently do. These Soft skins shouldn’t give us too much resistance. Their technology is primitive and they don’t look like they are bred for battle.” Nodding his head and raising his head comb he continued, “Yes, I do.” Then, out of deference he waited and watched as his Lord raised the now dead and dissolving animal to his snout and sucked at the liquefied carcass. After a moment Logistics did the same.

  Gregor’s Estate

  Using the ver
tical chemical thrusters, the Griffin gently settled onto Gregor’s landing pad. Buster opened the cargo doors and Krag exited, heading towards Gregor’s compound.

  “Buster, arm your avatar and put it on alert. Also, keep the drives hot and ship ready for emergency lift off.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  The guards at the main gate were constantly rotated, so they didn’t recognize him.

  “Krag Marston to see Lawrence Gregor,” Krag stated.

  “One moment.” One of the guards put his hand to his ear, lowered his chin and mumbled into his collar. After a pause, he stated, “Someone will be with you shortly.”

  “Déjà vu.” A normal sized door, next to the gates, opened and Harriet walked through. “Marston.” Lawrence’s daughter was five years older, five years harsher. Her figure was still slim. Her stride was still demanding.

  “Miss Gregor.”

  She turned and walked back through the door. Krag followed. One of her personal lackeys closed the door and hurried up to walk beside her.

  “Cold Bitch,” Krag thought.

  They walked in silence until they reached Lawrence’s office doors. The lackey rushed forward, twisted the knob, pushed the door open then hurried around and held the door for his queen to enter. Once everyone was inside, the servant reverse spun and backed out of the room, closing the door in front of him. As every other time, Harriet circled the desk, ending up on her father’s left, right hand on his shoulder. Lawrence looked up and Harriet looked down. That one glance showed the love they shared.

  “He truly is a family man,” Krag thought.

  Patting her hand, Gregor asked, “Harriet, dear, could you give us a few moments?”

  With her eyes on Marston, and a grimace on her mouth, she circled around, turned her back to him and left.

  “Sit, sit,” Gregor kindly commanded as he rose and headed to the bar.

  Krag sat and watched Lawrence pour two generous dollops of expensive whiskey into cut crystal glasses. Using tongs, he added ice, walked back, handed one glass to Krag and sat down.