Starhawk s-1

by Mack Maloney

  Finally they reached a chamber that was made entirely of ice. Two dull lamps illuminated this place, casting eerie reflections off the clear, glasslike glacier.

  Xara pointed to the far end of the ice chamber. “Down there,” she said. “Take a look.”

  Hunter walked farther into chamber and soon discovered what she was talking about. Imbedded in the thick ice, perfectly preserved, was a very small, very ancient-looking spacecraft.

  “Only a handful of people know of this object’s existence,” Xara told him, moving closer in an effort to keep warm. “We have no idea when it came down here or who sent it here. All we can speculate is that the people on Earth — and I mean in very ancient times — sent it here, maybe to study the polar ice cap.

  Our scientists believe it was damaged on landing and never really fulfilled its mission.”

  Hunter studied the spacecraft. It was obviously damaged. Its sides were crumpled, as were what appeared to be its landing struts. A large orange piece of material with many slim pieces of rope was draped over nearly half the object, hiding various attachments from view.

  “Does anyone have a guess how old this thing is?” he asked her.

  Xara shook her head no.

  “The best estimate I’ve heard was also the most outlandish — approximately five thousand years ago,” she said. “As far as we can tell, that’s just about the same time the Ancients began spaceflight. But we know nothing about the people who built it.”

  She shivered a bit — and got a bit closer.

  “But what does this have to do with me?” he asked her.

  She led him around the block of ice, to a point where they could just see under the orange shroud. One of the spacecraft’s panels had partially come loose and was poking out from under the orange covering.

  Hunter took one look at this panel and felt a chill go through that had nothing to do with the conditions inside the chamber. Painted onto the side of this panel was a series of long red and white stripes, a block of blue, and a collection of white designs within.

  Hunter was stunned. He took the piece of cloth from his breast pocket and held it up against the ice. He and Xara both nodded at once. There was no mistaking this.

  It was the same design.

  “I think that might have been a flag of the Ancients,” Xara said. “But just like our flags today indicate what planet someone is from, this flag might have indicated a particular region of the Earth. Apparently the people back then were actually proud of what part of the world they lived in. They called them nations. Not like these days, when entire planets present themselves as one nation.

  “So we are pretty sure we know where this machine came from and what that symbol painted on its side means. The question is, why do you have the same kind of symbol in your pocket?”

  Hunter was nearly speechless. He had no idea.

  “This only deepens the mystery,” he whispered.

  Xara smiled. She liked surprising him — and she had one more in store.

  She pointed to a slight blemish on the side of the ice case just above the part of the spacecraft that bore the red, white and blue symbol.

  “Can you see that? It’s the result of a VLR/VSA hit…”

  “VL-RV… S… A?” Hunter stuttered.

  “It stands for ‘very-long-range visual sensing array,’ ” she explained. “It’s a technology that has not been used for centuries. However, I’ve been told that it was a way to get a visual reading from just about anyplace in the Galaxy, like a very-long-range camera lens, I guess you could say. Primitive by our standards. But when our scientists returned to Mars after the last Dark Age, they were fascinated with this spacecraft but also this evidence of a long-range sensor scan. They discovered that someone at the other end of the Galaxy had scanned this planet — indeed, had scanned this very piece of ice, possibly looking for that symbol.

  “Our scientists theorize that a VLR/VSA, located way out on the Fringe, might have been set on unlimited search — a simple device with a simple mission. Go right across the Galaxy looking for this symbol and beam back the information, no matter where it could be found. Well, they found it here. Many, many years ago…”

  Hunter was quiet for a very long time. There was something very emotional about a faint light crisscrossing the Galaxy on its lonely mission to find a symbol long-ago forgotten.

  “The scanning signal that painted this site aeons ago came from someone way, way out there,” Xara went on after a while. “My guess is that they wanted to know the same thing you do. They wanted to know what that design on your piece of cloth means.”

  She nuzzled up very close to him.

  “I think we can deduce that the symbol is from Earth. But it was from an Earth of many centuries ago, a civilization that could have spanned a millennium, for all we know. So now maybe we know where you’re from. You’re from Earth — eventually just like everyone else. But that still doesn’t answer the bigger question: Who are you?”

  She paused and looked deep into his eyes.

  “I think the best way to find that out,” she said, pointing to the scan burn on the ice, “is to find them first…”

  Hunter could only nod in agreement.

  “But how?” he asked. “There are trillions of planets out there that we know about. And probably a trillion or so we don’t know about. It would take about that many lifetimes to search them all — even if I could get out to the Fringe.”

  That’s when Xara smiled maybe her widest smile. Then she hugged him, tightly, unexpectedly.

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” she said.

  “Really?” he asked, not letting go of her. “Why?”

  “Because,” she replied, “I have a plan…”

  19

  On Earth

  The next day

  The trip up to the floating palace known as Number One took less than the blink of an eye.

  One moment Hunter was in his new living quarters, having just climbed into the white ceremonial uniform that had been left for him, and … flash! … he was standing at one end of an immense hall.

  Like much of that associated with the Specials, the predominant color here was green, or more accurately, emerald. The walls of this chamber seemed to shimmer like jewels. The ceiling was so high, Hunter imagined he could see clouds forming at the top, due in part to the fact that they were riding on a cloud.

  There were as many as ten thousand spectators on hand. Some were on the floor, or more accurately, hovering a bit above it. Others were perched in galleries that lined the sides of the hall. All of them were Specials or high military officers.

  In front of Hunter were two long line of soldiers; standing on either side of an aisle, they seemed to stretch on forever. On his left side were ceremonial troops of the Space Forces, unmistakable in their blue uniforms and oversized battle hats. On his right, an almost equal number of Solar Guards, again unmistakable in their black combat suits.

  At the end of these two long lines was yet another Imperial throne. The Imperial Family was waiting for him upon it. The Emperor’s miter was glowing with an ethereal yellow light; a beam was coming through a well-placed window in the hall. The Emperor himself appeared to be StarScraping, drawing the yellow light from his favorite sun, called Impervious C, located at the center of the South Dog Night system some thirty-three light-years away.

  Two words came to Hunter’s head on seeing this: Mood ring.

  He started walking.

  Music came up from somewhere. Ethereal strings, not so much bass. He was suddenly aware of his boot heels clicking on the pearl floor. Just as quickly, this noise went away.

  He saw the color beaming down on the Emperor change slightly. The yellow became a tinge of orange.

  Hunter picked up his pace. He was very aware that there were thousands of eyes on him — none of them belonging to the soldiers in this multiservice honor guard, though. True, the soldiers on either side of him were standing eyes straight, but they weren’t lo
oking at him. They were looking across the aisle at each other, a long-held game of psyche-out between the rival SF and SG soldiers.

  It added an interesting if slightly tense element to the room.

  Hunter finally reached the end of this gauntlet to find that the last ten soldiers on his right side were not Solar Guards, but representatives from the third, smaller service, the Exploratory and Expeditionary Corps — the X-Forces.

  The last two soldiers in this line were Erx and Berx.

  Hunter nodded in their direction, then turned eyes front. He looked up at the Imperial Family. The Emperor as usual looked detached — there but not there, his face vacant as always. The glow on his hat had dulled a bit. The queen looked sexy but stern. She could not bring her eyes to meet Hunter’s. The Prince simply looked hung over and bored.

  And Xara looked beautiful.

  A platform appeared in front of Hunter. A man in thick ceremonial dress materialized along with it. On the platform were three emblems. The five-star gold badge of the Space Forces, the twin gold lightning bolts of the Solar Guards, and the crossed silver stars of the X-Forces.

  “By order of all that is holy,” the priest said, “our Emperor has declared that as a reward for the ability you displayed in contest, you will be granted your choice of what service in which you will serve him…”

  The man looked Hunter in the eye.

  “It is now time to select,” he said. “Please choose well…”

  Hunter looked over at Erx and Berx; they appeared extraordinarily happy — no doubt because their pockets were thick with winnings from the Earth Race. He looked up at Xara, who was gazing down as him, a regal smile in place, but her eyes sparkling. Yes, she certainly had a plan.

  Suddenly the Prince spoke up.

  “You will look your best in the uniform of the Space Forces,” he said, to some amusement of those gathered.

  “I prefer that he join of the Inner Defense Forces,” the queen barked, suddenly coming to life.

  Hunter grinned nervously. The Emperor appeared to be looking down at him, but Hunter felt his stare going right through him. At best, the most powerful being in the Galaxy appeared to be caught in a daydream — one that didn’t look pleasant.

  Hunter stepped forward to the platform. He’d thought about this decision long and hard ever since returning to Earth from Mars.

  Although his face had been flashed across the Galaxy, and his name was indeed on the lips of trillions of citizens, no one had come forward claiming to know who he was. This meant he would have to find out for himself, a task that could quite possibly take a lifetime or two scouring the lost planets of the Fringe.

  But then again, maybe it wouldn’t take quite that long. If he played his cards right.

  So he allowed his hand to hover on the Space Forces badge first. Then the one representing the Solar Guards.

  Then he reached down and picked up the silver double stars of the X-Forces.

  A gasp went through the crowd. The Empress and the Prince looked especially shocked.

  But when Hunter looked up to the throne again, he saw Xara smiling down at him.

  20

  Big Bright City

  The night was filled with color.

  StarScrapers were lighting up the sky. Big Bright City seemed brighter than ever. The stars shimmered with increased intensity.

  Hunter was sitting on the balcony of his new dwelling, looking out on the night of light and counting down the minutes until his new adventure would begin.

  On the table in front of him was a package from Xara. It was waiting for him when he returned from his commissioning ceremony and the brief celebration that followed. During that time he had not been able to talk to her; it was important at this stage to keep their alliance secret.

  Inside the package he found an ancient star map. It showed a part of the Galaxy so isolated, so uncharted, Xara’s accompanying note indicated that no one was sure of its exact location. It was, however, in the Fifth Arm, one of the most remote parts of the Outer Fringe, a place very, very far from Earth. This, Xara’s note said, was where the ancient scientists postulated that the VLR/VSA beam that hit the Mars polar lander originated.

  Then she dropped a bomb: She had been able to pull some strings and arrange that his first mission would be to this very uncharted part of the Galaxy, Fifth Arm, Outer Fringe.

  In other words, she was enabling him to go off in search of who he was while serving his commission with the Empire at the same time. It seemed the best of all worlds.

  Also included in the package was a poem dating back to the Second Empire — indeed, it was as old as the map itself. The poem was written in the very archaic language that few people in the Galaxy spoke anymore. However, Xara wrote him, they both knew a man who would be able to translate it. This mutual friend would soon be at Hunter’s door.

  She had finished her note with some verse of her own. The passage caught him by surprise; its sentiments came right out of the blue.

  It might take you a million years

  to find out what you need.

  But that is fine with me. We both have nothing but

  time. I’ll await your return and your touch.

  And even if it be those million years,

  I will be waiting still.

  Hunter had read the poem probably a hundred times by now, and it never failed to get him right in the throat. He looked up at the stars now, just coming into view as the sun finally set. The next morning he would leave for the farthest part of the Galaxy, to try to find out who he was. Yet at the same time, the sweet words from Xara made him wonder if Earth wasn’t the place he should be. Was it wise to leave the person regarded as the most beautiful girl in the Galaxy to search for something that was quite possibly unattainable? At the opposite end of that Galaxy?

  He didn’t know.

  A soft beeping at his door broke these thoughts. Hunter instructed the door to open. A slight, graying figure shuffled inside.

  It was Calandrx.

  They greeted each other warmly. Hunter was delighted to see the elderly pilot, their first meeting since the conclusion of the Earth Race.

  As usual, Calandrx was all smiles.

  “I got a message from a mutual friend,” he said mysteriously. “Said I could be of some help to you — but I think she had something else in mind as well. I think she knew I would like to see you before you left. I know well the anticipation of getting one’s first assignment.”

  Hunter poured them some slow-ship wine, and they walked out to the balcony. The sky was absolutely filled with colorful StarScrapers now.

  “Beautiful as always,” Calandrx said, gazing at the display. “But in the end these StarScrapers are just playthings of the rich. Just like the Earth Race, something to keep the Specials and the Very Fortunates happy while people like you are out there among the stars doing what’s really important.”

  They did a quick toast and sipped their wine.

  “You’ve been given quite a ship, I hear,” Calandrx said.

  “It’s a J-Class,” Hunter told him. “The AeroVox…”

  “Yes, highly regarded,” Calandrx said. “It is not only a fast ship, it also is said to be endowed with tremendous good luck.”

  Hunter drank his wine a little quicker. “It better be,” he said.

  “Ten thousand special ops troops,” Calandrx went on. “Plus educators, scholars, diplomats. Medical people. You will be carrying both power and knowledge — those two things combined can outdo any warship in the Space Forces or the Solar Guards any day.”

  Hunter drank his wine. “I hope you’re right,” he said.

  They were quiet for a while.

  Then Hunter asked: “How many are there? Planets, I mean?”

  Calandrx thought for a moment.

  “I don’t think anyone really knows,” he mused. “Hundreds of billions, certainly. Maybe even trillions. The number is changing all the time. They say that on average a planet is destroyed by some ca
tastrophic event every hour of every day. Star collisions, collisions with asteroids, volcano orgies. Luckily most of them are known about way in advance, so evacuations can be undertaken.”

  He slurped his drink.

  “But beyond that, there still are many planets out there that are uncharted, unknown, forgotten since the fall of the last Empire. Indeed, it’s a major undertaking by this one to recount them all — and then reclaim them all. Like it or not, that’s what you’ll be doing out there.”

  He thought a moment.

  “The last Dark Age was relatively brief. Only two hundred years or so. The Specials have been reclaiming everything for the past six hundred years, the fastest rate of recovery ever.”

  He looked back up at the sky. “But I’m sure a few billion planets up there are still lost in the shuffle.”

  He swept his arm across the sky, indicating the thousands of Empire ships hovering near Big Bright City in all directions.

  “And that’s what this is all about. Trying to build it all up once more — just so it can fall again.”

  The sky began turning vivid orange, then red, then yellow. Thousands of beams of fantastically bright light were shooting up from the city now, aimed at the infinity of the gathering night sky.

  They could hear cheering coming from below.

  “The Empire is reclaiming what they think belongs to them,” Calandrx said. “Though I’m not so sure all of its subjects — on all those planets — quite agree. But the Empire is an unstoppable force. At least today it is.”

  Calandrx took another sip of wine.

  “But politics aside, there is untold wonder out there,” he said. “The things I’ve seen. The things you’re about to see…”

  “But if it’s so grand,” Hunter asked, “why have three fallen before it?”

  “Like everyone else, I can only hazard a guess,” Calandrx replied. “That said, I believe I know what happened to the Second Empire — and probably the Third as well. They grew too big too fast, and events simply overtook them. Vast empires run mostly on luck and the weather anyway; each one reaches a point where inevitably things get shaken up, usually about two hundred years in. That’s what fascinates me. At the moment, the Fourth Empire is nearing its six hundredth year of growth. That tells me one thing: When the time comes for it to crash, it is going to be a hell of a noise.”