STAR HOUNDS -- OMNIBUS

by David Bischoff

  “No love lost, Laura,” said Northern.

  “And so you turned pirate.”

  “Necessary to survive, dear lady. But there’s more than that to our little group. And we haven’t let you have any idea until now because we were not sure of your loyalties. I take it, with the events of late, that we may now consider you a free agent?”

  “You sure can. I’ve got a blip-ship, and I’ve got some keen hatred in my heart. There’s no room for a loyalty to a system I’ve long despised.”

  “I think we can trust you,” said Captain Northern.

  “What do you say, Doctor?”

  “I would say, Captain, that she is as good a bet as any of the lot we’ve picked up so far.”

  “Excellent. And how say the rest of you?”

  The other crewmembers agreed that Laura was reasonably trustworthy, in light of the situation.

  “Very well, then,” said Northern gravely but with a trace of a twinkle in his eye. “Pilot Laura Shemzak, as captain of the Starbow I should like to invite you to renounce your affiliation with the Federated Empire of Terran Planets and join our crew in loyalty and service. Your word will be your bond.”

  “I—” Laura began.

  Northern held up his hand, preempting her. “Oh yes. One more little thing you should know before you make any promises. Gemma, I think it would be appropriate for you to have a word here.”

  Gemma Naquist stood. “I believe what the captain wishes me to disclose, Laura, is the fact that although we serve no one, the crew of the Starbow, though certainly a motley bunch with amazingly disparate philosophies, hold a common ideal.”

  “Down with the Federation?”

  “Not quite, Laura. In principle, we’ve nothing against the ideal of a linking form of government between planets. We should like to see some sort of network established between the Free Worlds for mutual support and protection. We should like to see the current form of government in the Federation dissolved. You might say that, in addition to being pirates and mercenaries, we are also revolutionaries. In joining us, you would become an outcast. There are Free Worlds that welcome us, but also Free Worlds that do not, and sometimes it is difficult to tell the difference.”

  “What Gemma means,” Northern said, “is that this is not exactly a stable way of life.”

  “By no means,” continued Naquist. “And by allying yourself with us, you burn your bridges.”

  “I’m not exactly a political kind of person,” Laura said. “But since I’m definitely revolting against the Federation, I guess I don’t mind being labeled a revolutionary. It certainly sounds nobler than ‘pirate.’”

  “I take it, then, Laura Shemzak, that you agree to become one of our number and that we have your oath of loyalty to the Starbow,” Captain Northern said.

  “Just as long as you help me find my brother,” Laura answered. “My real brother.”

  “As you may have gleaned from our attitudes, that serves us well enough.”

  Laura chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, if we can get ahold of Cal, I’m sure he’s not going to care to help the Federation any longer.”

  “You will swear allegiance, then?”

  “You know, I’ve never done that sort of thing before,” Laura said. “With the Federation, it’s all knee-jerk. You serve it because you are programmed to serve it. The only promises I’ve ever made were to Cal.”

  Captain Northern said, “With your promises you define yourself.”

  Laura thought for a second. She looked around at the assembled crew, and a strange wave of emotion swept over her, along with a realization: they wanted her among them. She could belong to something bigger than herself that didn’t want to crush her, mold her, shape her toward its own ends.

  She was strangely moved.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I’ll join you.”

  Captain Northern nodded and smiled softly. “You are very welcome among us, Pilot Laura Shemzak.” His eyes caught hers in a disarming way, a personal message that seemed more than just a welcome.

  Vulnerable to this new emotion, she found herself becoming lost in that gaze, intrigued by the mystery those eyes held.

  She caught herself.

  “Well then, Dr. Starbow or Mish or whatever the hell you’re calling yourself, if you’re just disassembled pieces now, how are you going to get this damned implant out of my head?” She tapped her temple as she gazed up toward the ceiling. “I want to talk to those Cal clones, not shoot them.”

  The voice answered.

  “For temporary purposes, while I construct a robot body to suit my fancy, I can control one of my other robots, and thus perform the necessary operation. As a matter of fact—”

  The door opened and a uniformed robot stepped in and began speaking in the Starbow’s voice.

  “—my Genghis Khan model is quite dexterous in such work.”

  Pilot Laura Shemzak shook her head and sighed.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “Captain,” Dansen Jitt said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really must speak with you.”

  The voice filtered through the intercom of the captain’s cabin.

  Northern, freed for a while from the Starbow’s continual surveillance of his drinking, had poured himself hefty tumbler of brandy and was lying pleasantly semicomatose upon his bunk. He roused himself and let the slight man in.

  “Yes, Jitt?” he said blearily, only half noticing the man’s frazzled, gaunt look.

  “It’s about what happened on the bridge, sir. About the psychic broadcast from the Jaxdron.”

  “You set the course, didn’t you?”

  For whatever reason, the Jaxdron had notified the Starbow of the next stage of their quest: a planet called Snar’shill, clear to the other side of the Fault, on the fringe of the spiral arm holding Terra and most of the human-inhabited worlds.

  “Yes, but Captain, why should they give us their destination unless it’s some sort of trap?” Jitt said nervously.

  “Most likely it is, Jitt. So what? We took that chance on this little jaunt, and we’re just going to have to take that chance again.”

  “There’s more, Captain. What I saw …. You know I’ve a small amount of psi ability.”

  “Jitt, can’t I read this on your report?”

  Jitt brushed past him and poured himself a drink, something that the man seldom did. He downed it with an unsteady hand.

  “Northern, I’m not a strong talent at all; maybe the odd flash, you know, and an intuitive grasp of mathematics, odds, and navigation. My premonitions have always been weak little squiggles in my head, which I … tend to amplify.

  “But, Captain, up there on that bridge … that surge of thought … that vision I got. That was strong stuff.”

  “Okay, Dansen,” the captain said softly and respectfully. “I’ll bite. Shoot.”

  “It wasn’t anything literal or linear. A succession of images, a mélange of emotions, a feeling of … I don’t know, Captain—the unknown.” Jitt stared off into empty space. “I experienced alien life I never imagined existed. Whole cycles of life and death in just a breath. I saw suns being born and suns dying. And then I saw the planet, and I recognized it. Snar’shill, in the Dominus cluster. And I heard a voice saying, ‘This is where we’ll be.’ And the tone was taunting, as though it were saying, ‘Follow us if you dare.’”

  “Yes, that is the direction they seem to be headed.”

  “But Captain, there was more. I saw … felt … blood … and destruction … upheaval. I saw fleets battling. Thousands of ships, Captain, locked in deadly battle, in atmosphere, on seas, on land, and in space. And it was a conflict that went on forever, Captain. An eternal battle.”

  “Go on, Jitt.”

  “Captain, I’m not sure I should.”

  “Please.”

  “Very wel
l. Three images that troubled me the most. I saw Pilot Laura Shemzak, smiling. I saw you lying on the ground, quite dead. And I saw the explosive destruction of the Starbow. And the weird voice that was the voice of the Jaxdron seemed to whisper to me. ‘Yes, come, follow, and experience all this fun, all these games.’”

  “That’s quite a plateful, Dansen,” said the captain.

  “Captain, I urge you to reconsider our involvement in this affair. Believe me, the portents are not good.”

  “We can release you from your enlistment here, Dansen. There must be some world, somewhere, that will have you.”

  Dansen Jitt sighed. “You know that I can’t—no, won’t do that. This is my family, my home, Whatever its destiny, that is a destiny I must share.”

  Captain Northern placed his hand on the navigator’s shoulder. “That is good to know, Dansen. You are like a brother to me.”

  “Then you’re going to stay on course? You intend to follow the Jaxdron and Cal Shemzak?”

  Captain Northern nodded. “This is more than trying to reunite a feisty, bad-tempered young woman and her snot-nosed brother. This involves more, even, than the safety and alliance of the Free Worlds.” He looked into his glass and swirled the last of the brandy. “We’re dealing, Dansen, with a threat to the very fabric of reality that we call our universe.”

  Northern clinked his glass against Dansen Jitt’s and then gulped down its contents.

  Epilogue

  On the planet Nocturnus, the darkness itself seemed to wail with the voice of winds.

  The man’s personal starship—a sleek and expensive model that shone more like the jewels of royalty than anything utilitarian—had landed by the settlement as though on wings of flame. He descended on the extended ramp to the icy ground, flanked by a pair of robot bodyguards. A group of creatures awaited him with a reverent silence due to a celestial messenger.

  Humanoid, his welcoming committee all wore furs with hoods that concealed their features. The man wore a thermal suit, and was quite comfortable despite the chill of the swirling winds that cut through the mountainous landscape. Past the icy field where the starship had landed lay a scatter of Quonset huts.

  “You are expected,” a gravelly-voided alien said in standard Galactic. “Please accompany us.”

  The man agreed and followed the silent party. Their boots crunched through the snow. The robots to either side were alert, sensors wide open for possible danger.

  At the edge of the settlement, where the snow gave way to warm, wet pavement, one of the aliens turned.

  “Please leave all weapons at this checkpoint.”

  Lamps revealed hints of a cluster of eyes, a round protruding mouth.

  The robots gripped the handles of their pistols, ready to use them.

  “It’s all right,” said the man. “Obey the request.”

  The robots handed over the weapons.

  “This way.”

  The man and the robots followed the aliens to a central hut, larger than the rest.

  The door cycled open.

  Warmth gushed out. The interior was dimly lit. A fishy, oily smell was immediately discernible.

  The man took a deep breath. This was the crucial step. Upon this meeting rested the fate of years of planning.

  He stepped into the room, which seemed swathed in rich, light-spattered cloth, a section of starry night sky scissored from the firmament.

  A figure separated itself from the darkness at the far end, a thing clearly not at all humanoid.

  “I am here,” said the man.

  The creature spoke a guttural gurgling language, which was translated by a mechanism dangling from the ceiling.

  “Greetings, Overfriend Zarpfrin,” said the Jaxdron Master General. “Please rest yourself. We have much to speak about.”

  Zarpfrin smiled and nodded. “Yes, we do.”

  THE END

  BOOK TWO: Galactic Warriors

  by

  David Bischoff

  Prologue

  Overfriend Zarpfrin was seated in a Quonset hut on the thick fur of some animal. Outside, the winds of Nocturnus howled against this protecting metal hull. Zarpfrin found himself shivering slightly despite the thermal suit he wore. Curious, he thought. I was perfectly warm on my way here.

  Perhaps this was what came of dealing with a Jaxdron ….

  “Now that we have decided the probable fate of your human worlds, Zarpfrin,” said the alien leader, “perhaps you would care to indulge me in a small board game of my own devising.”

  “I wish I had your confidence concerning this matter,” said Overfriend Zarpfrin, his mind still overwhelmed by the enormity of the past negotiations.

  A robot cart wheeled out. On its several surfaces geometric shapes were blinking out light sequences grouped peculiarly in an array of connected circles.

  Zarpfrin sipped at his tea, regarding the game before him. Natives of this world—grim, multi-eyed humanoid beings—stood in the shadowy recesses. Overfriend Zarpfrin’s robot bodyguards stood by the door.

  Zarpfrin used his examination of the board game as a delaying tactic. He had no intention of playing; it would no doubt take much too long, and might give the alien a better idea of how he thought. The Jaxdron, swathed in a robe, squatted across from Zarpfrin, awaiting his answer. This alien, not at all human in appearance, was a member of the first star-traveling intelligent race encountered by humanity in its push toward the stars—a race that mankind now fought a strange war with.

  This alien was Overfriend Zarpfrin’s hope.

  The fate of the human worlds hung in the balance, but thanks to Zarpfrin’s machinations, there was hope as long as everything worked according to plan.

  “Well?” The Jaxdron’s actual word was a garbled crunch of sound. Speakers hanging from webwork translated the indication of impatience into Standard Galactic so that Zarpfrin could understand.

  Zarpfrin held up a hand and looked down again at the board. “I am grateful to you for providing for my entertainment, but each moment I spend here is a risk to my control of the situation within my home worlds.”

  “As you wish, spoilsport.”

  Zarpfrin suspected that the alien was pouting. He got to his feet. “I apologize, but our talk has been long and arduous, and as you know, there are many matters for me to prepare for. I trust that our communications will continue in the normal manner?”

  “Yes,” replied the alien. It turned to the board, lifted a long multi-jointed digit, and touched a light-nub.

  With crackles and explosions of smoke, the holographic pieces self-destructed then melted, puddling off the game board.

  “But be aware, Zarpfrin,” said the Jaxdron. “Ours is a game that cannot be so refused.”

  For the first time during the entire session, Overfriend Zarpfrin of the Federation smiled, albeit grimly.

  “Oh, do not worry,” he said. “This is a game that I think I am going to enjoy.”

  Gesturing for his robot bodyguards to follow, Zarpfrin walked out into the windy cold toward his starship. Before he stepped onto the ramp, he gazed up at the winking stars.

  Soon, Captain Tars Northern, he thought. Very soon I shall have you, the Starbow, your crew … and my dream!

  Chapter One

  She dreamed she flew through space, and the stars hated her. The very stars through which she cruised seemed to taunt her, red giants and white dwarves equally cold in the silent starscape.

  O be a Fine Girl and Give us a Kill! You are our demon princess, blippie. Yo are the missionary of gloom, our emissary to life with this message. Though of star-stuff you are made, O life, to star-stuff you will return, and we shall mock your silent grave with our eternal furnaces.

  She seemed imprisoned within this grim galaxy—no, not the Milky Way with its serene and graceful spirals like a dancing starfish, but a squ
at, stunted clustering of trillions of stars like some deep-sea creature, scuttling its phosphorescent way in the darkness. She rode her blip-ship—her new one, the XT Mark Nine—within this maze of baleful jewels, for once tripping over stellar gravity wells rather than skating them. Feeling pain from the radiation all about her compact ship, rather than thriving on the energies moving through space like invisible rainbows.

  Her connections—the biotech jacks connecting her neural centers and her cybernetic components with the complex but dumb mechanical beast she flew—seemed to itch, and she could not scratch!

  The stars, planets, asteroids, and all their attendant interstellar debris seemed to chuckle with one icy voice at the dilemma of this intruder within their midst.

  Her sensors, previously displaying a complete holographic reading upon her environs, suddenly shut off, replaced with a skewed two-dimensional view of this dream-corner of the universe, like an old-time movie screen showing those antique “flicks” which Cal would dredge up from forgotten basement archives. On that screen she could not close her eyes to, came a series of snapshot images, spearing her brain with vivid pain:

  —identity melding with a Conglomerate on the planet Walthor …

  —the instant of panic and unsureness at the Starbow’s attack upon the Ezekiel, fearing she would never see Cal again ….

  On and on these images paraded, a scrapbook of sensations that had led her here to this dark galaxy, this dark dream ….

  Look upon your kindred, the stars seemed to say. This is the heritage of life—and the only meaning granted by those who have spawned you is to serve them by killing and killing ….

  No! cried Laura. I serve them no more! I am not their pawn! I have thrown my lot in with another cause.

  But the dark stars simply laughed.