Sleeping in the Stars

by D Patrick Wagner

  Mortek New World

  Standing at the large window, the Lord Minister stared out from the conference room in his flagship, New Dawn, absorbing the sight of his space armada sitting in geosynchronous orbit above their current world. The light from the local star reflected off the thousands of war ships floating in formation, ready to be unleashed. To Lord Minister, it truly was a sight to behold. With a clicking hiss, he turned on his four legs, stepped up and straddled his stool, then sat.

  “Supply, how are we on food stuffs and supplies?” he questioned his counselor.

  “With only minor rationing, we have half a solar cycle before we are in need, My Lord.”

  “What if our war machine only needs one quarter of a cycle? Could this planet maintain for a year?”

  “Yes, probably,” Supply responded, his vestigial wings slightly sagging in doubt.

  “Make sure it does.” The Lord Minister’s tone stated that there would be no acceptance of failure.

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “Materialist, is the fleet ready?”

  “Yes, My Lord.” His vestigial wings rose high with pride. Materialist showed his confidence in his answer.

  “Good.”

  “Intelligence, have you verified our target?”

  Yes, My Lord. The scout ships have flown the gate multiple times. The transit is indeed, only one-fourth of a solar cycle.”

  “And the target?”

  “One habitable planet. Large population of soft skins, a great deal of plant and animal life. A target well worth taking. There are also two moons with colonies, but their value is of limited value. The gas giant that they orbit, however, is of value as there is a great amount of rare gases to be harvested.”

  “Strategy, what obstacles are there before we conquer the planet?”

  “Nothing major. Three ships, frigate class. No weapons platforms or defenses. We should arrive basically unopposed.”

  “War, plan of attack in place?”

  “Yes, My Lord. All is ready.” He too expanded his wings in confidence and anticipation.

  “Logistics?”

  “Ready.”

  “To war!” Lord Minister banged the decision orb on its pad. “You leave in three cycles.”

  Pacifica Paradise

  Since the beginning of mankind’s history, there have always been vacation spots where the wealthy and the powerful could escape the mundane and less fortunate souls. There was always a place where these super-affluent could spend lavishly, languish luxuriously and have entire communities of dutiful servants fawningly satisfy any desired needs. For the Federacy, that province was the planet ‘Pacifica’.

  Pacifica is the second planet in the ‘Goldilocks Zone’ of the Americana star system, a single gate from Cencore, requiring only two days to leave the life of reality and to enter the life of illusion. The sun is a G-class star that keeps the temperature range of Pacifica almost identical to Old Earth. With just less than eighty percent water, the remaining twenty percent of land mass is spread across three continents. Two small continents cover the north and south poles. The main continent, over forty percent of the land mass, is a quarter-mooned shape, emerging from the ocean depths at the equator. Arcadia, as the continent is named, has rugged mountains north of the equator and open plains with lakes and rivers on the equator, spreading south.

  For the hearty outdoorsy well-to-do’s, the resorts in the high peaks of northern Arcadia offer snow skiing, rock climbing, mountain hiking, cliff diving, wingsuit gliding or anything else a person could think of and afford.

  The southern portion of Arcadia is where the pristine beaches are. The azure ocean rolls up onto snow-white sandy beaches speckled with wave-polished pebbles of black and brown. The most luxurious resorts are here. This is where the rich and sedimentary go to do nothing and pay for everything. Towers of hotels and condominiums line the shores, creating a bulwark between the effluent’s playground and the hoi-polloi’s mundane life.

  That was where Krag took his ship and team for recovery and healing. Griffin, under the highly illegal transponder I.D. of the Wyvern, leisurely drifted towards the gate to Paradise. The security ship performed a cursory job. The fake identities of the ship, Krag, Mack and Sue didn’t raise any flags. The real identity of Keiko Suzume, daughter of the Federacy Ambassador of planet Nyu-Nippon, did raise a flag – one that said ‘tread lightly’. The on-board inspectors extremely politely and extremely carefully did not antagonize the daughter of a rich and powerful diplomat. After a quick walkthrough and checking of papers, the outpost waved the luxury ship through.

  Between the sentry ship and the gate, the Griffin, as the Wyvern, pulled alongside a completely dead piece of space flotsam where Mack opened the cargo bay doors and remotely fired up the jet on the missile that held the CERVEs. After guiding the package in then, after securing the cargo, Mack flashed Krag the ‘ok’ sign and Krag redirected towards the gate where everyone could relax for a two day trip and a three-month vacation.

  Dreadnaught Odin

  It took three days. But finally Vice Admiral Weiskoff had the evidence package from the Federacy Laboratory. It had been passed to his underlings and they had sifted through it, formed the data into a presentation and notified the Admiral. Now, Weiskoff entered the conference room of Odin. As he expected, he saw his fleet staff already seated, data tablets positioned, everyone ready.

  “What have we got?” Weiskoff didn’t need to expand the question. Everyone knew they were dealing with the laboratory theft. Weiskoff’s adjunct officer, Lieutenant Clark motioned towards a petty officer who, intern, worked his data pad. Lights dimmed and a two dimensional video began displaying on the large screen at the far wall.

  Everyone in the room watched. Under the guidance of Lieutenant Clark, the petty officer fast-forwarded through the hour that a sedition officer wandered around and in-and-out of the warehouse. He carefully kept his face hidden, keeping the bill of his head cover pulled down on his head.

  Then came the bouncing pack, with its attached cylinder.

  “What’s going on here?” Weiskoff demanded.

  “Someone is wearing a chameleon suite, sir,” replied Lt. Wilson. “It’s top quality. Possibly even one from our intelligence division.”

  “So we have a break in by pirates using military gear and uniforms.” Weiskoff’s voice rumbled with anger. “Continue.”

  The video rolled. The officers watched the battle in the warehouse. They watched the perpetrators kill the guards and flee. They watched as one of them looked back and threw shots at the soldiers.

  The Vice Admiral yelled, “Stop!” pointing at the image, Weiskoff ordered, “Zoom in on that man!” He pointed to the officer leaning against the post in the warehouse.

  The Petty Officer complied.

  Everyone stared at the figure. “I know him,” Weiskoff almost hissed. “That’s Krag Marston!”

  “Our ex-wing commander?” Lieutenant Clark asked.

  “The very one. Major Krag Marston, formerly in the Office of Sedition. He’s retired. He shouldn’t be there. He doesn’t have the clearance.”

  “That’s the culprit?” asked Lieutenant Wilson. Is he the ghost we keep hearing about?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so. I’ve never liked that man. What ship did he arrive in?”

  “We couldn’t find one,” Lieutenant Wilson responded. “Nothing landed. Security did ping a ship in the vicinity but the transponder ID turned out to be a duplicate, one that matched a small transport from one of our battlecruisers. But it didn’t land.”

  “Where is that ship now?”

  “No one knows. After the break-in, the only ship that got a look at it was destroyed. We searched the area, covered everywhere with sensors but nothing showed up. It just disappeared.”

  “Are you telling me that we have a rogue ship with military grade concealment tech and pirates with military gear running around our galaxies?

  “I can’t say for sure. But that is probable. And
the ship’s armed. It destroyed a gunship.”

  “How long has this been going on? What else can we attribute to Mr. Marston?”

  “Nothing concrete, Sir. The only actions that come close would be the raid by our regional police forces on a crystal lab in Arium. A fast, unidentifiable ship fled the scene. The report assumed drug dealers. But the speed and lack of recognition might mean that it was the same ship.”

  “Find that man! Get me his military jacket and distribute his picture to every gate, fuel depot, supplies depot and space station in Cencore. Find him! I want his head on a stick!”

  The officers worked to conceal their shock at their Admiral’s outburst. They didn’t know that Major Marston was the reason that Weiskoff came in second in his class. They didn’t know that Krag Marston was the reason that Theodore Weiskoff the Third wasn’t the best. They didn’t know about the hatred that Vice Admiral had carried for years towards the now-retired Major.

  Pacifica Paradise

  Four days after the theft at the lab, Griffin (under its I.D. of Wyvern) exited the gate of Americana, home for the planet Pacifica. The moment of exiting the gate, Buster launched the rocket with the CERVEs, course set for the moon orbiting the luxury planet. The demand for papers, inspection and approval by the security agents again was less than cursory. The richest, most powerful people in all of the Federacy came here. They did not want any scrutiny, publicity or acknowledgement. As such, the daughter of an interplanetary ambassador and her crew entered with zero effort.

  After Krag and Mack had retrieved, then tied down the rocket and its cargo, the four members of the Griffin took their now-regular positions back at the galley table, ready to plan their next moves. All had drinks and meals. Of the three, Keiko looked the most physically drained, tired and drawn from her wound. Krag saw her tired body and her drained spirit. He wondered what he could do.

  None of her cohorts knew, but she carried the emotional darkness and the knowledge that she had killed two people, something that she had never done before. Their deaths played a dirge on her soul, shriveled her heart.

  “Krag, I’ve been thinking,” began Mack.

  “Now we’re in real trouble,” mocked Sue.

  “No, really. I think the Federacy has your face at the lab. No one may know this ship, but they have your face. With your military record, they know who you are.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t see any cameras, but some may have been hidden. Even if that isn’t true, let’s act as if they have it.”

  “So, what? We run?” Sue asked.

  “That won’t work.” Krag looked worriedly at Keiko. For the last two days she hadn’t been herself. Krag had badgered Sue into checking for infections multiple times but none were found. All physical scans by the medical unit came up with nothing. Keiko’s physical path to recovery proceeded normally, without any complications. But, as to her emotional state, Krag held concerns.

  “We need a place for Keiko to heal. We need good doctors to insure that nothing is permanent. We hide in plain sight.”

  “Not the ship, though,” Mack responded. “We hide the ship.”

  “After everything is topped off.”

  “Right.”

  “Sue? Keiko?”

  “In plain sight. I agree,” Sue answered.

  Krag watched Keiko push some food around on her plate. “Keiko?”

  “Sounds fine,” she murmured in a soft voice.

  After staring at her for a moment more, Krag turned back to Sue and Mack. “So, where do we hide the Griffin?”

  “The moon,” Mack quickly responded. “We shut off the transponder. We shut everything down but minimal life support. It becomes just another rock.”

  “I like it. The moon is only a two hour flight from Arcadia in the shuttle. If the Fed is looking for us, they won’t find any ship to search. Good idea.”

  “And, we can study the artifact,” Sue added.

  “Ok. That’s the plan.” Turning back to Keiko, Krag asked, ”Where would you stay as the ambassador’s daughter?”

  Keiko rose from her fugue and answered, “The Neptune. Whenever my family vacationed here, that is where we stayed. The concierge knows me by sight. That would be best.”

  “That’s the place, then. Does it have a landing pad?”

  “Two. One on the roof and one on the grounds, near the parking structure.”

  Sue, you are Keiko’s personal assistant. Make the call, get a four room suite. As close to the roof landing pad as possible.”

  “That’s expensive,” Keiko interjected.

  “We have the credits. Besides, Gregor will pay us back and a whole lot more.”

  “Mack, you’re yourself, the ship’s jack of all trades.” Mack nodded. “I’m the pilot and Keiko’s bodyguard. We can use our false ID’s.”

  “That’s it, then,” Krag announced as he stood. Everyone else stood and began to leave. “Sue, stay a minute?”

  Sue stopped and the two waited until Mack and Keiko left, Keiko with a noticeable limp.

  “Sue, how well do you get along with Keiko?”

  “Pretty good. We talk. She’s starting to open up. But you know her. She’s very private.”

  “See what you can do. I’m worried about her. Can you find out why she is so depressed?”

  “I already know. She’s never killed anyone before.”

  “I thought that might be the case.”

  “Also, but she hasn’t said anything about it, but, well,” Sue stammered.

  “What?”

  “I guess things got really bloody. You got really violent.”

  “I had to,” Krag reacted defensively.

  “Yeah, but she saw how violent you can become. I think this side of you scared her.”

  “I’d never hurt her.”

  “She knows that. But you scared her.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Now wouldn’t be a good idea. Let her heal. Let her come to peace with this new side of you.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me? I worked on battle software. I spent four years studying the results of my work. Although I never experienced actual combat, I watched plenty of videos, plenty of death. So I’ve seen people like you in action. So it’s not something new to me.”

  “Ok, then. Just keep an eye on Keiko, Ok? Be her friend? Help her through?”

  “Already all that, Krag. Don’t worry.”

  Dreadnaught Odin

  It had been five days since the attack on the Federacy Lab. Vice Admiral Weiskoff and his staff were back in the conference room, armed with new information on Major(Ret) Krag Marston. The stress of knowing that one of their own had gone rogue thickened the air and tensed the participants.

  “Lt. Clark, bring us up to date,” the Vise Admiral ordered.

  Nodding to the same petty officer as before and seeing the military picture of Major Marston display on the screen, Clark began. “Major Marston. Graduated top of his class at the academy.” Sitting next to the Admiral, he saw Weiskoff’s right fist clench. “High marks during flight training. Multiple combat medals as a fighter pilot then as a squad leader. Abruptly retired four years ago after he got his twenty in. No reason given.”

  “We know all that. Where is he now?” Admiral Weiskoff questioned.

  “Currently Mr. Marston is the owner and captain of a luxury executive transport named ‘The Griffin’.”

  “How did he get his hands on a ship like that?

  “We looked into that,” answered Lt. Wilson, the security officer. After scrolling through some pages on his tablet, he answered, “He purchased the ship from the Novius Interplanetary Investment Corporation. The majority stock holder is Lawrence Gregor.”

  “We all know that crook,” Weiskoff interjected. “How did Marston get that kind of money?”

  “Details are sketchy. We couldn’t find any monetary amount. Might have been hidden credits. Might have been services rendered. We don’t know. But the ship is registered, one h
undred percent, in Krag Marston’s name.”

  “Where is that ship now?”

  “We have it entering Cencore from the Bridgelen gate. I’ve sent a message requesting the ship’s movements there. It will take about two weeks to get a response.”

  “Where did it go?”

  “According to all gates, the Griffin is still in-system. It hasn’t left.”

  “Then, find it. There’s nowhere in Cencore that he can go that we can’t find that ship.”

  Vice Admiral Weiskoff glared at his support staff as they all acknowledged his command. “And, Lt. Clark, it’s time we paid another visit to Mr. Gregor. Put together a three ship fleet, including the Odin. I want to have a chat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Moon over Pacifica

  The fifth day from the theft brought the Griffin(Wyvern) and its crew to the pleasure planet of Pacifica. The orbiting supply station, although small by space standards, contained everything that a luxury space liner needed. Mack negotiated full fuel tanks, full galley supplies and full ship restocks. Like everything else in the Americana system, everything proved to be discretely handled, top-of-the-line and over-priced. During the replenishment stop everyone went about their duties to prepare for their stay in Arcadia.

  Krag, Mack and Sue again sat at the community table in the galley. Keiko, as she has been doing lately, stayed in her cabin.

  “Krag, I’ve talked to Keiko. She put me in contact with the concierge at the Neptune. We’re all set up for an open-ended stay, one month minimum,” Sue explained.

  “Sounds good. How did the cover story go?”

  “Good. One of the rooms in the suite is set up for special needs. And the hotel has a doctor in waiting. So we have our medical care.”

  “Perfect. Have you run this by Keiko?”

  “Yes. She talked me through while I was setting everything up.”

  “What about the landing pad rental space for the shuttle?

  “We have that too. No problems there.”

  “That solves our transportation issues. Mack, how goes the restock?”