Starfire and The Planet Killer

by Christine Westhead

  "I'd volunteer Star, but I'd miss all the fun," grinned Raan.

  "How you rose to the rank of Captain, I'll never know," sighed Erion.

  "Natural leadership," Raan coughed modestly.

  "Good grief," muttered Starfire. She knew quite well though, that Raan was a fine officer and an excellent tactician, but he hid it well from his superiors. A captain he was and a captain he intended to stay. He tapped her arm and winked at her.

  "I gotta go and shower this beautiful body."

  "Me too," Erion stood up.

  "Any time, Major," leered Raan.

  "You know what I mean!" she snapped. "Anyway," she glared at Starfire, who hastily turned her snigger into a cough, "I'm for a hot shower and a nice long sleep," she yawned. "Who's on watch?"

  "Me," grunted Starfire, "unless someone wants to stand in for me?" she asked hopefully.

  "Not a chance, kid," stated Raan, sliding back the co pilot's seat to follow Erion out of the hatch. Starfire caught Delta Ten's eye. The robot stood up from his seat by the main computer and picked up the precious case.

  "I would stand your watch for you, Lieutenant, but I am under orders from Gant to start decoding the information as soon as possible. If you would like to countermand my programming, you do have a higher priority…"

  "Very clever, Del," Starfire glared at his handsome, flawless face. "A human couldn't have done it better." The graceful machine leaned forward and lowered his eye in a crafty wink. Starfire stared open mouthed. "Who taught you to do that? No, don't tell me, it was Raan, wasn't it?"

  "The Captain is helping me to communicate with humans in a more effective manner," stated the android, calmly. He turned from the hatch and said, "I believe it to be working. Captain Raan has not accused me of being an appliance for days now." Starfire looked from the closing hatch to the silent Hal.

  "Do you think he was actually trying to be funny?"

  The gunman shrugged. He stood up and walked out of the pilot section after Delta Ten. He was still wearing the space armour and he felt hot, uncomfortable and clumsy in it. As usual, he didn't explain any of this to Starfire and she stuck out her tongue at his departing back. She ran her fingers through her thick, curly brown hair and fumbled in her breast pocket for a cigarillo. She didn't have any left, which didn't improve her temper.

  "Ignorant git," she muttered to herself. Hal was supposed to stand watch with her, but there really wasn't anything to do when the ship was in hyperspace. She sat in silence for a while, feeling a bit sorry for herself and looked up as Hal entered the cockpit again a few minutes later. He had showered and wore his usual black shirt and jeans, black gunbelt and gunmetal grey, steel blaster in a black, contoured holster. He was carrying two coffees and he passed one to her. She took it gratefully and slid her seat right back on its rails. They drank the coffee in silence, then Hal produced a thin black cigarillo out of his pocket, twisted the filter to select the flavour he wanted and lit it, blowing a cloud of smokey vapour towards the fan that cut in automatically.

  "Want one?"

  "Sure." she answered, catching it and lighting up herself. Cigarillos were a safe and accepted form of recreational inhalant and Starfire saw that Hal had twisted a gold band, which meant it was a mild stimulant. She sucked in the perfumed vapour, leaned back in the chair and crossed her ankles up on Delta Ten's computer console.

  Hal called up an attack play on his weapon's console and switched the stud from 'real' to 'simulate'. As Starfire watched, the pale haired gunman steadily fired on the little holographic fighters as they crossed the firing grid. She leaned back in her seat and relaxed. Long hours on watch had taught her how to keep a cursory eye on the gauges in front of her without the task demanding all her attention.

  Hal's steel grey eyes narrowed as he steadily picked his way through the fighters. His long fingers danced across the controls without any effort and he gave a quick savage grin every time he blew one of the little ships into oblivion.

  He was a strange man; a loner, and of the little band only Starfire had any sort of affinity with him. They were both from the same city, buried deep under the surface of the planet Terrell. It was a claustrophobic place, concrete and metal tunnels filled to overflowing with busy people. They were a close knit race, shunning space travel almost as if it did not exist at all. Scorned by all other races, they never went onto the surface; partly because some of it was still supposedly radioactive from the great civil war, but mostly because they were uncomfortable in the open air after so many generations underground. Off world Terrellians like Starfire and Hal were rare and Starfire guessed that it was this tiny spark buried deep inside them both that made herself and Hal a little more compatible.

  Starfire had been orphaned as a small child, and taken to Auria by a kindly Aurian Ambassador and his wife. Suddenly freed from the constricting life on Terrell, Starfire blossomed into a rebellious tomboy and her adoptive parents reluctantly gathered in all the favours owed to them and enrolled her in the Aurian Space Marines as a cadet, in the vain hope that it would calm her down. What they didn't quite understand was that, as Ambassadors to Terrell for many years, they naturally understood and accepted the way of life and customs of that planet, something that was distinctly lacking in the Aurian Marines.

  Not only was she the only Terrellian to join the Marines, Starfire had a natural aptitude for flying, both in space and in the atmosphere. Far from making her popular, it had the opposite effect and the sullen offspring of several high ranking Marine officers, watched her sail effortlessly through every challenge and pass every exercise with ease, while they struggled and lagged behind.

  They tried bullying at first, but after a few of them ended up in the base infirmary, they decided to ostracise her into submission and that didn't work either. The Aurian Space Marines was a very old establishment, and talent, leadership and courage had been watered down by generations of breeding from the same limited pool. Marines seemed to be promoted, not on their ability to lead, but by the families they belonged to.

  Starfire on the other hand, didn't understand or care about etiquette or the old Aurian custom of allowing the members of certain important families to excel and surpass them, even if they were unmistakably idiots. She had been very quick to point this out, but many of the instructors and most of the board of the Academy, belonged to these families and she entered the Marines as a Lieutenant; the lowest rank they could get away with awarding her without making it look suspicious, given her high results in training.

  Hal on the other hand, learned about unfairness, Terrellian racism and corruption through the University of Hard Knocks, and it didn't take him long to realise that he had a natural aptitude to attract trouble. He had been a tall, willowy teenager when he stowed away on General Dubois' planet hopper, and left Terrell far behind. After a few altercations where he was distinctly the loser, and one disastrous fist fight, where he was almost choked to death by a punch to the throat, Hal realised he would have to learn to defend himself by other means; preferably from beyond arm's reach.

  Deciding quite early on that a career on the right side of the law was a: hard work, b: not very profitable and c: no fun at all, he started his lowly career as a bookie's runner on a rough mining planet. He bought his first old, rusty hand gun as soon as he could afford it, cleaned it, upgraded it and practised with it until he felt competent enough to hire himself out as a guard on one of the regular ore shipments. He realised he had a talent for gunfighting, and as he made his way across the galaxy, his reputation grew. His skill with a hand held laser pistol and his readiness to use it were legendary, and he was much in demand to anyone who could afford his high fees. As a debt owed to Erion's father, the late General Dubois, Hal had joined this odd little band for one mission only and he had somehow stayed around.

  He knew he would probably have to move on sooner or later, but for the moment he was content to be part of the group, all be it on the very edge, where you couldn't rightly say if he was part of the
crew or not. He took part in every mission as though it was his last, on the understanding that if a better contract came along, he would take it, and refused all attempts by Erion to become what she called, 'a team player'.

  Hal blew up all his little ships and he too leaned back in his seat. Hal and Starfire both sat for a while, gazing out of the direct view port into the grey nothingness of hyperspace but it didn't take Starfire long to become bored with the silence.

  "I bet old Commander Roland is pretty mad," she said, happily. "He's bound to know it was us who blew up his base, by now." Hal did not share her smile. Roland was the self elected High Commander of the New Aurian Federation and his efforts had caused the death of General Dubois, Erion's father, an old and much respected friend. Commander Nikal, Raan's brother and Starfire's old Commander had also perished at the hands of the New Aurian Federation and Hal had sworn revenge. His face took on a hard look and he spoke in a soft, quiet drawl that Starfire knew well.

  "I'd sure like to see the look on his face right now."

  "Only so you could blow it to bits," muttered Starfire under her breath.

  The object of Hal's musing was at that moment pacing up and down in front of his faithful Commissioner of Police, Rimek.

  "Alive, Rimek, I want them alive!" he snarled. He was medium sized, had pale Aurian colouring and the accent of an educated manual worker. He had a small mouth with thin lips and tried to conceal it by growing a long moustache and a short, pointy beard. It could not quite conceal his weak chin, but he was the most powerful man in the New Federation and his second in command was the most feared Commissioner of Police in the galaxy.

  "Yes Commander, we are now working on a plan that should soon have them in our grasp," grated his Commissioner.

  "Not another one of your stupid plans," began Roland. "Your little metal brain might be one of the most advanced in existence, but it relies on people being as logically minded as you, and that, Commissioner," he poked Rimek's black metal chest plate, "is where you fail." He walked around the seven foot high robot, twirling the ends of his copper coloured moustaches between his fingers. The robot's ovoid head rotated a full 360 degrees to keep his vision sensors on Roland at all times.

  "Sir," it began.

  "Silence," snapped Roland, "I am thinking." He paced around the large well furnished office, then suddenly stopped in mid stride and spun to face the robot. "We do know for sure that it was that meddling General's daughter and her motley crew that destroyed Castillon Station?"

  "Affirmative, Commander. The woman showed her face quite clearly and the Trooper she was with carried a Hi Resolution, hand held Laser pistol, the preferred weapon of the Terrellian, Hal."

  "Bloody Terrellians," snarled Roland. "We should take the troop and wipe that miserable little planet off the stellar map." He threw himself into the high, well padded chair behind his desk and twiddled with the coloured beads on the ends of his moustache while he drummed the delicate fingers of his other hand on the chrome desk top. "Any other information?"

  "From studying the recordings taken at the time, our combat computers have deduced that they entered the building through a waste pipe at the base of the rocks. Charges were planted in the guard's quarters to seal them in, while the woman, Erion and the Terrellian cleared the main computer room and set charges there. Charges were also set off under the antennae dishes and the air traffic tower and landing pad were destroyed by laser cannon fire."

  "Can we salvage anything?" sighed Roland.

  "The base itself was badly damaged, but casualties were at a minimum. The base could be made operational in ten solar months."

  "Damn them, Rimek; they must be caught as soon as possible."

  "The rebellion is gaining strength, Sir," began Rimek. "They have many more places in which to conceal themselves."

  "Damn it, I know that, you infuriating machine." Roland stood up from his chair and glared up at the huge robot." These people are becoming holo heroes to the smaller planets in our control. They must be caught! I don't care how you do it, but these five traitors must be captured alive."

  "I don't understand, Commander. Why do you not kill them outright?" The robot had a grating voice that had no influxes at all, and although it would have been a simple matter to install a voice modulator that was more restful to the ear, Rimek preferred it as it was. Roland had long become used to it and carried on in a patronising manner, as if explaining to a child.

  "If they are alive, my metal friend, we can use the Mind Turning Machine on them. They must be reprogrammed, then they can go out on the network and confess to the whole galaxy the evil of their ways. That way they will not become martyrs and fuel the resistance against us."

  "I understand," droned Rimek.

  "Then I want them killed in a very slow and painful way." Roland flung himself into his chair. "I want them to take weeks to die, Rimek, weeks! And I shall watch every second of it."

  "I have been formulating a plan that might bring them into our hands." began the machine. "It will take time to put it in motion, but if you would like to sit in front of the main computer, I will play through the scenario for you."

  "Very well, Rimek," Roland lit an expensive cigar and settled himself behind his desk. "These people are becoming a thorn in my side. I want them stopped! You have all the resources of the Galactic Police at your disposal; now, show me what you have." Rimek's bright red eyes glowed, and a holoscreen slid up from the desk in front of Roland. It lit up to show a thick green forest.

  "This is the planet Katraia, in the northernmost sector of the Murian System. It has been inhabited by Aurians since before our records began. It has a monarchy and a small government. Their economy is based on Golden Bearmyl, a rare mineral which they trade for non native raw materials and…."

  "Oh, get on with it Rimek,"

  "Yes, Sir," answered the machine, lighting up his eyes again. The scene changed to show the inside of a massive stone-built room. Tapestries hung from the walls, and ornamental torches with naked flames provided the lighting.

  "What is this place, a museum?" growled Roland.

  "It is the way they live, Commander. Their King, Lendus is of a direct line that stretches back nearly a thousand years.

  "They don't belong to the Federation, then?" asked Roland, his interest aroused.

  "There has never been a need, Commander." began the robot. "They are too far away to be useful to us, and they have nothing we need. It would not be worth the effort to overthrow the planet and take control."

  "Why the sudden interest then?"

  "It seems that their once plentiful supply of Golden Bearmyl has been contaminated by a freak radio active storm. What was left intact is virtually useless. They have no other natural resource of value with which to trade. The planet must place allegiance with either the Rebels or ourselves to survive."

  "Rimek, I am losing my patience."

  "There is a son, Farrell who is next in line to the throne." The picture on the screen flickered, and a tall bronzed Aurian prince appeared, his long copper hair flowing free. In his right hand, he held a long jewelled sword, at his left hung a sonic blaster pistol, butt forward, in a holster. He stood tall and proud on the brow of a hill, the breeze catching his long cloak and billowing it behind him.

  "Cut the history lesson, Rimek and get to the point."

  "King Lendus has already approached the Aurian Council, with a view to joining the Federation. I suggest that he is turned down, in favour of his son, Prince Farrell. In order to become King, the Prince must marry, and that is where our rebel traitors come in."

  "Why?" asked Roland. "So we force the Prince into marriage. How does that help us?"

  "The rebel Major Erion Dubois, is a high born."

  "That we know, Rimek."

  "Upon her father's death and her defection to the Rebel Alliance, her lands and title were confiscated, and now belong to the Federation. However, while still a child, she was promised in marriage to the young prince."


  "Is this on record, Rimek?"

  "It is. The two families are linked in some way, and every fourth generation, the ties must be strengthened by marriage."

  "Sounds a bit far fetched to me, Rimek." Roland twirled the small beads entwined into his moustache again.

  "There is documented proof that the Dubois line marries into the Royal family, and it is her turn, Commander. Even if the King refuses our offer, he will still need to contact the Rebel Alliance to ask for aid now that their trading strength has gone. Even if he does not contact her directly, Major Dubois will come to hear of it, and will be bound by loyalty to intercede on the King's behalf. Then we will be ready for them."

  "How unfortunate for them that a freak storm should contaminate their Golden Bearmyl at such a convenient time for us."

  "Most unfortunate, Sir."

  "Just how much of an accident was it, Rimek?"

  "I took the liberty of arranging it as soon as the logistic computers discovered the fact about the Dubois woman."

  "I like the scale of your thinking, Rimek. It doesn't seem to bother you that you have wrecked the economic stability of a whole planet, just to further your aims. Put your plan into action but I want to be informed of every development; do you understand?"

  "I understand, Sir."

  "Good Rimek, I want no mistakes this time."

  Chapter 3

  "Normal space in ten seconds," called Erion from the navigation post. They silently ticked off the time in their heads and waited for the ship to emerge from hyperspace. The swirling grey mist parted like a curtain and the ship emerged, decelerating and banking steeply to starboard. The system was difficult to reach from hyperspace, chosen specifically for that reason and only those who knew the precise co-ordinates could make the jump in complete safety. Within a few seconds, the green gas planet of Kelorus could be seen, looking like a dull emerald in front of them. It was their beacon, Kelorus, as it was for all other Alliance vessels heading for the base in the asteroids.