Beyond Those Distant Stars

by John B. Rosenman

  Powers’ mustache twitched. “To be fair, the matter's not quite as clear-cut as you suggest. They do have doubts as to whether or not you can be trusted, as to whether or not you are what you claim.” He looked away. “Since I've defended you, I too am suspect. Major Lovejoy, in particular, is not pleased.”

  “He didn't like your defense of Orian's family either,” Stella said. “I know General Gage didn't order you to do that. Do you mind telling me why you did?”

  Powers took a deep breath. “Some of the things you said made sense. Punishing a family for another's failures...” He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fingers, then returned his hand sharply to his side. “It's always seemed like a necessary thing to do. In order to assure your soldiers’ loyalty and obedience during a terrible war which you were losing, you made certain the penalty was severe enough that it touched not only them but their loved ones as well. I always believed in that principle, but maybe it's flawed.”

  A ‘two-dimensional’ soldier? Not quite. Or perhaps he was a rigid, narrow one who was capable of change. “Is that the only reason you clapped for Tessa Farron?” she said. “It took considerable courage.”

  “There was something else,” Powers said, ignoring the compliment. “Virtually every person on this base was inclined to love you, and believe it or not, that includes most of the officers. After all, we've all been praying for a deliverer for a long time. But there was another thing I didn't quite expect.”

  Stella frowned. “What was that?”

  Powers motioned toward a set of large double doors guarded by soldiers and led her to them. “When the Spaceranger docked,” he said, “I supervised the transfer of personnel. Almost without exception, the crew's primary concern was about you, not themselves. They all seemed worried about your safety and welfare.”

  “So?”

  Powers squared his shoulders. “Love and respect are seldom won by traitors. In all my twenty-six years as a soldier, I've never seen a crew that feels the way about their commanding officer as your crew does.” Lifting his hand, he gave her a crisp salute, and then nodded at the guards to open the doors.

  In reflex, she returned his salute, searching in her mind for something to say. But the doors were opening, and the people in the great hall beyond exploded in cheers when they saw her. George and Thunderheart were the first to rush forward, their lips parted in giant grins.

  * * * *

  An hour later, when she walked through other doors with Tessa Farron and her son, the reception was more restrained but still warm. “Commander McMasters,” Gage said, “it's good seeing you again. Tessa and Ulysses, I'm so glad you could come.” She shook hands with both of them and smiled down at Ulysses, who still clung to his mother's side. “You're not afraid of me, little soldier, are you?”

  A thumb found its way into Ulysses’ mouth. Fabulous voyager.

  Gage laughed, squatted before him, and produced something from her pocket. A small prism hovered a few centimeters above her palm, each of its many facets a different color. By turning her hand, Gage was able to make the shimmering object revolve.

  Ulysses stared down his thumb, mesmerized by the dazzling device. He giggled, and then reached out. The prism settled to his hand and then rose again.

  “That should make you happy.” Gage chuckled as she rose. She ushered them toward a table covered lavishly with canapés and exotic hors d'oeuvres.

  “Thank you,” Stella whispered as they walked.

  “I've made arrangements for both of them after your departure,” Gage whispered back. Then, louder: “How are your quarters, Commander? Comfortable, I hope?”

  “Excellent. They sure beat the casket I sleep in on ship.” Aware that the last ship she had occupied had been the Pregnant Song, she quickly changed the subject. “This is an extremely beautiful room.”

  Gage nodded in pride. The chamber resembled a small, sumptuous ballroom, and when Stella looked up, she saw the stars through a transparent ceiling. “We reserve this room for our most illustrious visitors.”

  “Loran dined here, I assume.”

  “Oh yes. He had three helpings of Lei-on-a sprayfish with white mint sauce.”

  Stella smiled, liking this woman and grateful for her treatment of Tessa and Ulysses. The informality of this gathering was another kindness. There was no long reception line, no pomp and pageantry. Glancing about, she could see that all her main systems officers were present with the exception, of course, of Jason. George, Myles, Carol were watching her. And Lee, by far the youngest, who outranked them all.

  Smoothly, Gage arranged that Stella and her guests received exquisite crystal plates. There were cookies and pastry and nine kinds of flavored ices for Ulysses and even more exotic choices for the adults. Placing a small mound of purple-black substance on a cracker, Gage proffered it to her with a wink.

  “Try this.”

  “What is it?”

  Gage rolled her eyes wickedly. “Caviar. Food of the Gods.”

  Oh yes, Gage had mentioned it when she'd been piloting the Slug ship. She took a tentative bite, then another.

  “Well?”

  Stella rolled it around in her mouth. “I'm sorry,” she said, “it just seems bitter. Maybe it's my synthetic taste buds.”

  “Oh, that's right.” Instead of acting embarrassed, Gage turned, took two long-stemmed glasses from an attendant's tray, and handed her one. “Perhaps you'll like our champagne better.”

  Stella sipped and found to her surprise that it was delicious, dry and bracing with a subtle and resonant undertaste. She hummed to herself in amazement.

  “Like it? It's a New Bordeaux from Lotus, vintage ‘98.”

  “Oh, yes. It's superb. Ambrosia! Do you know"-she took another sip-"this is the first food or drink I've been able to really taste?” She held up the delicate glass, studying the tiny bubbles in the pinkish liquid. “Usually it's bland or just bitter like the caviar, but this...”

  Gage rolled her glass beneath her nose and took a sip, savoring it. “Some things are just a mystery, Commander. Miraculous as the fact of life itself.” She waved a small hand out at the cosmos. To quote a fourth millennium poet, “Life's a mystery in a mad god's dream/Even our thoughts aren't what they seem.”

  Stella savored her own drink in deepening amazement. What was Gage? A crusty, hardnosed general or an erudite connoisseur-philosopher? Obviously both, and perhaps more. As Gage took her arm and steered her away from the table, Stella noticed that a woman officer had deftly assumed responsibility for Tessa and her son. Apparently this occasion was all carefully orchestrated. There were no hostile officers present and, as if by an understanding, Gage had her all to herself.

  They approached a broad, closed panel in the wall. Gage pressed a button and it rose.

  Inside, behind a plastene screen, were books, not vidtexts or sensies, but actual bound volumes which you held in your hands to read. There must have been at least twenty.

  “Didn't know there were so many, did you?” Gage said.

  “That's an understatement. I saw a few in a museum once, but nothing like this.” She peered through the screen. “What's that one bound with, Eptex?”

  “No, leather.”

  Stella ooohed, scanned the titles. Shakespeare-she had heard of him. Confucius, Dante-nothing. A title on a particularly ancient volume caught her attention. Medea.

  “It's a play from Terra written in ancient Greek,” Gage said in response to Stella's look. “It's about a brilliant, fearless woman known for her cleverness and witchcraft. But perhaps you know the story?”

  “No, I don't.”

  “Hmm. I found the book at an outpost on Lotus. It's one of the most valuable volumes in my collection.” She shook her head. “Poor Medea, she betrays her country and gives all her love and assistance to Jason, who ultimately betrays her for another woman, one who just happens to be younger and a princess.”

  Stella gazed down at her empty glass, feeling as if she needed another drink. “What
did she do when she found out?”

  Gage whistled softly and pressed the button. The panel closed, shutting the past from view.

  “She arranged for the princess's death by sending her a poisoned gown and diadem which also killed the king when he tried to help her. Then she killed her two children, who happened to be Jason's as well.”

  “Seems awfully extreme,” Stella said.

  Gage shrugged. “Some women you just don't want to cross.”

  * * * *

  Midway through the banquet, Stella found herself staring at the general's nameplate again. A. Gage. “General,” she finally said, “do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  Sitting next to her at the table's head, Gage spread her arms. “You're the guest of honor. Ask what you damned well please.”

  “All right. Just out of curiosity, what is your first name?”

  Halfway down the table, Colonel Powers and another officer chuckled.

  “That's a sore spot with me,” Gage replied. “My officers have been trying to find it out for years without success.” She glowered half-seriously in their direction. “Had to block my own personal file to stop them from raiding it. Heard they'd set odds and placed bets.”

  “Hmm.” Stella stroked her chin. “Is it Ann?”

  Gage frowned. “No.”

  “Alicia?”

  “No.”

  “Annabelle?”

  Gage struck the table. “Most emphatically, no!”

  An officer near the other end of the table laughed. “We've all tried to finesse it out of General Gage one way or another, Commander, but she's too wise for us.” He raised a glass as if to toast her. “We've guessed everything from April to Aphrodite, Ashley to Ariadne. All the general's ever allowed us is that she'll sign the manifest if we ever deliver the right one.”

  Stella winked at Gage. “So life's a mystery, eh, General? What's the matter, don't you like your name?”

  “You wouldn't like it either if it was yours,” Gage snapped with a rueful smile. In the resulting laughter, she frowned at Thunderheart, who sat beside Stella. “Something wrong with him?” she said.

  Stella turned to Thunderheart, seeing that he had barely touched his Elano sunfowl and wild rice with spiced almonds. Instead, he stared with an avid yet desperate longing at the attendants who waited on their table. The seven young men and women flowed efficiently about the diners, pouring wine and bringing trays almost before they were needed. They seemed so smooth.

  Stella leaned toward Gage. “Are they empaths?”

  “Why, yes, they're a hep-path. Bioengineered and specially reared for such functions. They-Oh!” She looked at Thunderheart in sudden understanding.

  Stella did too. However, it didn't seem to matter that they stared, for Thunderheart was oblivious of them. His eyes followed the hep-path hungrily as they glided about the banquet table. Thunderheart-a piece of a broken puzzle forever without a place.

  Stella took his hand and squeezed it. You've served me. Now let me serve you and take away some of your pain.

  Thunderheart started, and then turned. Seeing her smile, he slowly smiled back.

  “Better?” she whispered.

  “Yes. Commander, I'm sorry.”

  “No need to be,” she told him. Watching an attendant fill Thunderheart's glass, she found herself questioning for the first time the practice of creating empath groups. Was it right to start determining people's destinies almost at birth, especially since the danger always existed that all but one might die and leave the last an orphan?

  “If you stare any harder, George, your eyes'll spang right out of your head.”

  Carol's voice made Stella look across the table at George, who tore his gaze from her and Thunderheart's clasped hands. “Do you have some kind of problem?” George asked gruffly.

  “Not particularly,” Carol said. “But when a grown man stares at someone for five minutes straight without even blinking, I'm inclined to wonder.”

  “Hardly that,” George said in embarrassment. He rubbed his beard and took a gulp of water.

  “I once used to feud that way with a man,” Gage told Carol. “We did it all the time. Or to be more precise, I did.” She sat, apparently waiting for a response.

  Stella's weapons officer returned the general's gaze, and for the first time, Stella saw how alike they were. Both were small, tough, outspoken women.

  “You started most of the arguments?” Carol finally said.

  “Yes.” Gage ran her fingers softly along the tablecloth. “You see, I loved him, but he did not love me.”

  Carol blinked, then reddened and looked away. Stella saw her tremble.

  So that's why she keeps picking on him, she thought in surprise. Or at least it's part of the reason. She took a sip of her fourth glass of champagne, and then realized it was going to her head. Carefully, she set the glass down.

  Gage, who seemed to have a sixth sense for detecting weaknesses in people, now honed in on Lee, who sat beside Carol. “First Officer, you seem awfully quiet. Is something wrong?”

  Lee smiled. “Everything's fine, ser.”

  “That's good, because if you're brooding about destroying our guard ship, it's wasted sentiment. You did the absolute right thing, son.”

  “Thank you, ser,” Lee said. “But with all due respect, you weren't the one who gave the order.”

  Gage's mouth popped open. “No, I wasn't,” she returned after a moment, “but I respect you for it.” She studied Lee as if seeing him fully for the first time.

  Stella turned to Gage, feeling she needed to steer the conversation in a new, crucial direction. With the base commander, it seemed one had to expect a revelation every other minute.

  “What's the situation with the Emperor?”

  Gage checked her cronex. “He and his sizable retinue are due here in just over nineteen hours. We should spot him shortly after he comes through Scylla.”

  Scylla was the black hole located six hours away, on the opposite side of the base from its twin Charybdis, down which Stella had traveled. Between them, the two singularities bracketed the base, though at markedly different distances.

  “That's interesting,” Stella said. “My orders are to dock briefly here and then pass through Scylla on my way to rendezvousing with General Loran's forces.” She leaned forward. “With all that I've learned, General, I find it more important than ever that your experts help me clarify and utilize what I know so that I can do just that.”

  Gage indicated that they should leave the table. They rose and moved off several paces, ignoring the others’ stares.

  “Commander,” Gage said, “things are in turmoil here. With the Emperor's imminent arrival and a captured enemy ship...” She laughed deep in her throat. “Hell, if it was up to me, I'd say Godspeed. But you must understand that I can't make any promises. From what I've heard about the Emperor's enthusiastic nature, he'll be very eager to meet you and reluctant to let you go. After all, it's not every day one of our officers manages to defeat the enemy and bring back proof of it.”

  Stella stepped closer and drilled her with her eyes. “General Gage, there may come a time when I'll have to ask you for a favor, a huge one of unprecedented dimensions.”

  For the first time, Gage seemed surprised. “I-I'm not sure what you mean.”

  How do YOU like being jolted for a change, General? Slowly, Stella reached in her pocket for a handkerchief and removed a speck of food from Gage's suit. “Desperate times require desperate measures, General. Sometimes the ends justify any means.”

  Gage swallowed, staring up at her. “My God, you're the toughest damned bitch I've ever met. I thought I chewed rock but you shit diamonds, don't you?”

  Over Gage's head, Stella saw a young male officer approaching them. At the table, Tessa Farron watched her in concern. Stella forced herself to smile back.

  “A message, General,” the officer said.

  “Thank you, Marquez.” Gage took the note and read it, then read it again
before flashing Stella a taut look. She turned and approached the table.

  “I have news,” she announced.

  They all stared up at her. Stella saw Tessa reach out and silence her son.

  Gage locked her hands behind her back. “I've just received a message. Our Emperor, Kolanera the Fifth, is due to arrive much earlier than expected. Two minutes ago, we scoped his ship on this side of Scylla.” She gave Stella a short look, and then turned back. “I'm happy to say that he should be here in less than six hours.”

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Standing stiffly in the buzzing Control Center, Stella riveted her eyes on the crackling image of the Imperium as it swelled like an exploding star above the holovids. She gripped the cold edge of a console with mounting hope and apprehension as the ship and its all-important passenger neared. The Emperor was less than an hour away now, barely two million kilometers out.

  The sprawling complex bristled with activity, the crew incessantly feeding data into the AI that would guide the ship in and making constant adjustments on computer astromaps. Being responsible for the Emperor's safe arrival clearly instilled a tense concern for detail in those responsible, and Stella found their energy nerve-wracking.

  Not General Gage. She stood with legs spread and arms locked behind her, calmly surveying the scene. Or was she calm? Stella wondered too about her own officers. To her right, Colonel Powers and Myles Uxman were conducting what seemed to be a close, cordial conversation, and she almost smiled at the two security officers’ apparent friendliness. As she watched, Myles came toward her, pulling one of his earlobes in excitement. Stella prepared herself for something important, as befitted the occasion.

  “I think it's Amaryllis,” he said.

  “What?”

  Myles’ soft lips curled in a smile. “It's the worst name I could conjure up. Colonel Powers says it hasn't been used yet.”