Starhawk s-1

by Mack Maloney

  They refilled their wine goblets.

  “I almost forgot,” Calandrx said. “I have a present for you.”

  He reached into his pocket, came out with a small box, and handed it to him. Hunter recognized it right away. It was a twenty-and-six capsule.

  “My flying machine?” he asked the elderly pilot.

  “I thought you might want to take it along with you,” Calandrx nodded. “It probably will come in handy out there.”

  Hunter examined the capsule. Even now, after everything he’d gone through, he was still amazed by the technology behind hiding things in the twenty-sixth dimension.

  “Can anything be put in a twenty and six?” he asked.

  “Well, just about anything,” Calandrx replied. “I mean, not a whole Starcrasher — there is a limit. In fact, I heard once that one of the reasons why Starcrashers are built so big is so they can’t be smuggled around in a twenty and six. Imagine the possibilities if they could!”

  Hunter studied the capsule. “Interesting…” he murmured.

  “And thanks. I appreciate it. When I left Fools 6 I never thought I’d see my machine again.”

  Calandrx laughed. “My God — now it’s as famous as you,” he said, adding with a conspiratorial wink,

  “And in my opinion it’s best that you keep secret what really drives the thing. I mean, someone could shove a truth stick in my navel and I still couldn’t explain why you’re able to go so damn fast in the thing.

  But I think it’s safe to say that you tapped into something no one else had realized before — or maybe was too ignorant to exploit.”

  “Even with a truth stick thus inserted, I couldn’t tell anyone either what the secret is,” Hunter confessed.

  “I just hooked up those boxes I salvaged. It was a random event. I probably couldn’t do it the same way exactly again if I tried.”

  Calandrx looked up at him. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, my friend, it’s that there’s no such thing in the universe as a truly ‘random event.’ Not in this universe, anyway.”

  More wine was poured.

  “Our mutual friend’s request notwithstanding, I actually came for another reason,” Calandrx revealed.

  “More out of curiosity than anything else.”

  “Details of the Earth Race?” Hunter asked.

  “Do you mind telling me?”

  “Not at all,” Hunter replied. “At least those I can remember.”

  He went on to tell Calandrx of his bizarre encounters within the three blue screens, from the giant teeth of the first to the unexplainable events of the second to the absolute astonishment of the third.

  Calandrx’s eyes seemed to go wider with every word.

  “You saw the Blackship?” he asked incredulously. “And it was being followed by a round craft? That’s the most fantastic thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “ ‘Followed’ or chased,” Hunter said. “Such an event is not typical of what a blue screen usually holds, I assume?”

  Calandrx was almost too chilled to speak. “You assume right, my brother,” he said, rapidly gulping his wine now. “And I think it’s prudent that we hush about all this right now. This wonderful place you have here doesn’t comes with a hum beam, does it?”

  Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said.

  Calandrx put a finger to his own lips. “Then let’s talk more about this when we meet again. And I think it best you keep these visions to yourself. If they persist in your memory, that will mean something. If they fade, that will mean something else. Do you get my drift?”

  Hunter quickly poured them some more wine.

  “Bingo,” he said.

  They toasted again. Calandrx half drained his glass, then said: “You made a wise if surprising choice by joining the Exploratory service. The things I’m sure you’re about to see, out there. I really envy you.”

  Hunter took a healthy gulp of his wine as well.

  “The truth is, I have my ulterior motives,” he said.

  The gleam came back to Calandrx’s eye. “Really? That’s my cup of tea,” he said. “Can you share them?”

  Hunter recounted his adventures with each of the Imperial Family, with the most elaboration coming from his time spent with Princess Xara on Mars. Calandrx was alternately amazed and amused by Hunter’s adventures in the past few days.

  “My God,” he said. “When I won the damn race all they gave me was a house in the woods! The Empress certainly didn’t flirt with me!”

  Calandrx spotted Mars just rising above the horizon.

  “And I certainly had not heard of this spacecraft stuck in the ice up there,” he said. “That’s a fascinating bit of history the Specials have managed to keep from the rest of us.”

  “This is my plan,” Hunter said. “If I can find out who sent the VLR/VSA scan down to that frozen wreck, I think I’ll be well on my way to finding out who the hell I am.”

  Calandrx clinked his wine goblet against Hunter’s.

  “Such a noble quest!” he declared. “And one that’s wrapped in your own machinations — as well as those of a beautiful woman. I love it! Is there some way I can help?”

  “There certainly is,” Hunter replied. “In fact, I think that’s why you are here.”

  Hunter unfurled the ancient map on the table in front of them.

  “Does this look at all familiar to you?” he asked Calandrx.

  The elderly pilot studied the map closely. After several minutes he began shaking his head.

  “Nope,” he said. “Nothing on here looks familiar. Why? Where did you get this?”

  “From Xara,” he said. “Along with this…”

  He handed Calandrx a copy of the ancient poem.

  “She thought you might be able to make sense of it, maybe even translate it,” Hunter told him.

  Calandrx refilled his own glass, then began reading the poem, half out loud.

  “Well, this is a semifamous piece from the Second Empire poet warrior Xylanx,” he said. “It’s called a ‘war poem.’ They were quite the rage back then. Apparently many of the age’s most prominent warriors wrote about their exploits in verse, as a way of preserving them to an oral tradition that would carry on if and when the Empire collapsed — which it did, of course.”

  He read some more. “Loosely translated, the title is: ‘For Those Who Are Searching… or more like,

  ‘The Search for the Lost Souls.’ It is widely believed to be Xylanx’s retelling of a local legend he came across during a campaign at the other end of the Milky Way.”

  “A legend?”

  Calandrx nodded. “Xylanx often did that,” he replied. “He would hear a myth popular among people in very isolated parts of the Empire and convert it into verse. Again, as a means of preserving a history of the times.”

  Hunter felt his heart sink. What kind of directions could he get from a poem written about something that never happened?

  It was as if Calandrx read his mind.

  “Now, that doesn’t mean none of this is true,” he said. “On the contrary, all myths have some basis in reality. But they are usually distorted again and again over the ages.”

  “Can you tell me what this is about then?”

  Calandrx read the entire poem silently. His eyes lit up at several points; at others he seemed on the verge of tears. He finished by wiping his eyes and raising his glass in the air.

  “Xylanx was quite a human being,” he said. “Really knew how to turn a phrase…”

  “But what is it about exactly?” Hunter pressed him.

  Calandrx went back to the first stanza.

  “It is about a place — a planet, probably — where thousands of years before, a certain race of people was banished. They were an ancient people apparently — it sounds like they had direct ties to Earth that went all the way back to the First Empire, or even earlier.

  “For whatever reason — Xylanx claims jealousy on the part of the Empire was the culprit — these people and oth
ers like them were relegated to ‘the place from which few could go beyond.’ They were given their own planet, puffed to their own desires, and left alone. But essentially they were exiled for not seeing things the way everyone else in the Galaxy at that time apparently saw them.”

  Calandrx slurped his wine again.

  “Over the centuries, these people became master warriors — and very intent on gathering together anyone who might be related to them — their brothers lost among the clutter of the Galaxy. So they set up a beacon, again near this ‘last place.’

  It was a kind of signal that would be recognized by all of their kind and would call them back to this new ‘home planet.’ This beacon was called — again, loosely translated—‘a house made of light’ or ‘the lighthouse.’ ”

  “And this beacon was located on the last place anyone could go?”

  “Either there, or relatively close by,” Calandrx replied. “There is a phrase or two that might indicate that while the location of this ‘house of light’ was not kept secret, the place where these ancient people lived was…”

  He located a passage from the third stanza. “ ‘Where does one put a lighthouse but on the most distant part of the most distant shore? But this was a lighthouse that pointed its beam inward. Looking not for lost vessels or scattered ships but lost and scattered souls…”

  Hunter sipped his own wine now. Could the beacon in the poem be the VLR/VSA? The same one that seared the ice around the crashed Martian lander?

  Calandrx put his finger on a line in the fifth stanza.

  “To me, this is the most enigmatic part,” he said. “It’s talking about just who these lost souls might be and how they will know when they’ve finally reached their home. ‘You will meet the people and they will be like you… they will talk like you, they will have your name… and in their eyes you will know them immediately.”

  Calandrx paused for a moment, then looked up at Hunter.

  “The final line is,” he said, “ ‘Hurry home, for they are expecting you…’ ”

  They just stared at each other for a moment.

  “Is this what you wanted to hear, my friend?” Calandrx asked him.

  Hunter just shook his head. “I’m not really sure…”

  They were silent for a while, Calandrx leaving Hunter alone with his thoughts.

  Finally Calandrx broke the silence.

  “I hear you’re to bring along Erx and Berx along on this adventure as well,” he said. “A wise choice…”

  Hunter shrugged, happy to change the subject.

  “They needed another ship… plus I think they had to get off Earth before they got into some real trouble.”

  Hunter regretted those words instantly. The momentary look of pain that came across the elderly pilot’s face told him he’d struck a nerve. It was clear that Calandrx would have given anything to be able to go with them.

  “It’s all right,” Calandrx said, again reading his thoughts. “I am stuck here because it is the wish of my Emperor. Who am I to dispute it? The excitement you’ve provided in your short time on Earth will last with me for years to come — and our winnings will ease the burden a bit farther. I’ve had my adventures. Now it’s time for you to have yours.”

  “You sailed the stars for more than a century,” Hunter said to him. “May I ask for your counsel? Do you have any advice you can give me?”

  Calandrx thought for a long moment. “Just remember this: Many of the people you will find out there won’t know who you are, won’t know what the Empire is… won’t have any knowledge about any of this.”

  He looked up at Hunter. “But that does not mean that the lives they lead, the cultures they’ve developed, the land they work are unimportant. Indeed, those things are the most important aspects of their lives.”

  “So respect them,” Hunter said.

  “Exactly,” Calandrx replied. “Show them respect, and it will go a long way in helping you accomplish what you’re being sent out there to do — officially, anyway.”

  Once again they were quiet for a while. Hunter sipped his wine and watched the stars above. Calandrx looked down on the brilliant city below.

  “What’s the strangest thing you heard about, you know, out there?” Hunter asked him.

  Calandrx sipped, thought, and smiled. “That’s like asking how many drops there are in the ocean. What isn’t strange out there? But I get your point. What’s the strangest thing I heard about besides you?”

  “Exactly,” Hunter replied.

  A floating city passed by overhead. More StarScrapers bolted up into the night sky.

  “I heard a story once,” Calandrx began, “about a man stuck out there somewhere who was supposedly immortal. He literally couldn’t die. I always thought it to be just another Fringe legend, of which there are billions, of course. But people I trust swear that it is true.”

  “Are you saying this person was ‘forever young’?”

  Calandrx shook his head.

  “No, simply immortal,” he replied. “He could not die. He aged, his body deteriorated. But he simply could not die. A curse, not a blessing.”

  “That’s ironic,” Hunter said. “Especially with the obsession for longer life that seems to drive everyone these days.”

  “That’s what made the story so fascinating,” Calandrx replied. “When I first heard it, I asked if this person was simply pumped full of Holy Blood — but that wasn’t the case. Apparently he’s been around longer than the concept of Holy Blood. They say he’s as old as spaceflight from Earth itself.”

  “But that would mean, what? Five, six thousand years old?”

  Calandrx laughed and guzzled his wine. “At least!” he declared.

  He got up to go. Hunter gave him a mighty handshake.

  “Thank you for everything,” he told Calandrx.

  “Be well, old friend,” the elderly pilot replied. “And please, when you return, may I be the one you call on first?”

  Hunter hesitated just a moment, but Calandrx caught on and smiled. “The first after our gorgeous ‘mutual friend,’ that is.”

  Hunter shook his hand again and walked him to the door.

  Calandrx started to depart, then paused a moment. “Can I give you just one more small piece of advice?”

  Hunter nodded. “Please, go ahead…”

  Calandrx lowered his voice in a very conspiratorial manner.

  “No matter what you do, my brother,” he said, “avoid any planet that has a pyramid…”

  PART THREE

  The Defenders of Qez

  21

  On planet Guam 7

  Khatru-Delirious Star System

  Six months later

  The name of the city was Nails, and it was famous for selling two things: combat weapons and slow-ship wine, both in large quantities.

  Downtown was a twenty-square-mile sprawl of gun shops, distilleries, and rocket pads. On a typical day, several billion aluminum coins could change hands here. At night, ray gun fights and random blaster fire were not uncommon. Even for the Fifth Arm, Outer Fringe, this was a very rough place.

  There were also thousands of ‘cloud bars in Nails, and it was at one of these, the Green Star, that two of the city’s most successful arms merchants were enjoying a midmorning cup of slow tea. They were Zym Blitz and Beebee “Three Finger” Rappz. Both men were enormous; they barely fit in the chairs provided with their hovering table. Neither was armed, but standing at discreet distances away, their coteries of bodyguards were nervously eyeing each other.

  The center of Nails’s weapons bazaar was just a half block away, and as their table was the most prominent in the Green Star’s outside café section, just about every person bustling by made sure they tipped their cap to Blitz and Rappz. There were many players operating inside Nails. But these two were probably the most notorious.

  The Green Star was especially crowded this morning. People drinking, smoking, wheeling, and dealing.

  A small army of holo-girls
was hanging on the periphery, chatting with the hired heat. The slow-ship was flowing and the open-air saloon was getting so raucous, some of the holos were beginning to ply their trade right out in the open.

  That’s why it was so strange when Blitz and Rappz were suddenly joined at their table by a priest.

  His cassock was dirty, his feet dusty and sore. He’d walked more than forty miles to get to the city, this after having used an ancient transporter booth to pop him in from twenty-two star systems away. Blitz and Rappz just stared at the holy man for a moment. They’d seen just about everything imaginable in Nails over the years — everything except a priest.

  “I’m very sorry to join you gentlemen unannounced,” the priest told them wearily. “I’m usually not this impolite.”

  “Not a problem, Padre,” Blitz told him. “You look like you need a drink…” Rappz signaled for a robot waiter.

  “Thank you, but no,” the priest replied. “I fear if I started drinking now, I would not want to stop.”

  “Well, have you eaten recently, Father?” Rappz asked him. “We can certainly buy you a meal.”

  Again the priest shook his head. “I am here not for food or drink, though I would dearly love both,” he said. “What I am looking for is help — help to save some lost souls.”

  Blitz and Rappz both laughed.

  “Are you sure you’re in the right place, Father?” Blitz asked him. “There are a million or so souls here, but I don’t think any of them wants to be saved.”

  “These are not the souls I’m referring to,” the priest said. “The souls of my concern really are lost — or better said, they are in a lost cause. And while I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, I’m here seeking weapons…”

  Blitz and Rappz looked at each other and shrugged. They’d sell to anyone, just as long as the coin was good.