Beyond Those Distant Stars

by John B. Rosenman

  “'Unauthorized personnel'?” Gage's voice rose, its festive tone hardening with outrage. “Soldier, I am the commanding officer of this base. You will let us enter at once!”

  Another pause, longer this time. Stella could sense the guards’ discomfort at being caught between Malek and their commanding officer. Jason smiled and touched her cheek.

  “Ser,” the first guard said, “if you'll just—”

  “Enough of this!” Gage raged. “Out of the way!”

  They all surged forward. Stella heard the guards say something and then came a metallic sound she had heard a thousand times. The hatch was being opened.

  For a tense moment she thought they would be allowed to enter. Then the second guard cried out. “General Gage, Colonel Powers is on the comlink. Please wait.”

  Their momentum died. Stella heard the comlink crackle, followed by the guard's crisp reply.

  “General Gage,” he announced, “Colonel Powers is disembarking from this level's circulator and he and his detail should be here promptly. I'm sorry, but we can't permit you and your company to enter until you're authorized.”

  Stella pieced it together. Powers obeyed Malek because he outranked Gage. What's more, Malek had sent his killers to her quarters and been informed she was gone. So he had immediately ordered a base-wide search and dispatched Powers to ensure the Spaceranger remained where it was.

  Footsteps left the ship and approached. Through a rift in the bodies, Stella saw Gage standing parallel to her, watching something. Her lips moved.

  “I count thirty, half with rifles,” Gage said softly. “Lovejoy's with them, but I don't see Malek.”

  Bitter irony edged Stella's heart. “For a moment there, I thought we were in real trouble.”

  Stella's crew reached for their weapons, clutching them under their robes and dresses. Jason held her with one arm and gripped his gun with the other. He looked down at her with a tense smile.

  Footsteps approached, sounding like an army.

  Stella watched Gage's face between two of her crew's bodies. It was as hard as granite.

  The footsteps echoed loudly, rapidly growing closer. Gage raised her arm. “Halt!”

  The footsteps stopped. A moment later, she heard Powers’ voice. “General Gage, this sector is restricted. Regent-Protector Malek has ordered that only authorized personnel be permitted here.”

  “I am the commanding officer of Loran Base,” Gage said.

  “Excuse me, ser,” Powers replied, “but according to official policy, the Regent-Protector may assume command during wartime.”

  “I demand a hearing first.”

  Stella heard an argument break out near Powers. Lovejoy's voice urged that Gage and her party be arrested at once. Powers silenced him and addressed Gage again.

  “Ser, surely you know the Regent-Protector's orders take precedence. They're backed up by Imperial authority. I must respectfully demand that you leave this area.”

  Stella's crew tensed. She saw several guns catch the light as they emerged from clothes. Furiously she strained against the body-cuff. If only she could get out of it!

  Gage glanced aside at them, and nodded. “Well, Colonel, there's only one thing I can say to that.”

  Reaching to her holster, she pulled her gun and fired.

  The scene dissolved into chaos. Some of Stella's crew pressed against her, trying to push toward the hatch, but the guards there drew their own weapons. Stella heard shots ring out and saw the guards fall, one landing half in and half out of the open hatch. A fusillade of shots followed, ricocheting off the bulkhead and preventing them from entering the ship. Someone rammed her from behind, and she was torn away from Jason and carried off as if on a raging river toward one of the broad columns that supported the upper level.

  Thunderheart's girls screamed, their mouths opened wide in panic. Near Stella, one of her crew gasped as a bullet struck him. He collapsed, causing others to trip over him. Thunderheart threw his tankard and an officer dropped his weapon as it struck his head. A bullet ricocheted off a column, and someone cried out.

  Then she was behind a column with Gage and Lee. Kneeling clumsily, she glanced around. The broad support structures gave them a temporary advantage in case of attack. Judging from what she heard, Powers was holding his fire and pulling his forces back. With his rifles, of course, he had greater range and could pick them off one by one.

  “Stella,” Jason called, “are you all right?”

  She swung. Five meters away, behind the column to her left, Jason stood next to George, who sat with Carol's head in his lap.

  “I'm fine.” She looked at Carol's chest as it rose and fell. “How's Carol?”

  George raised his head and looked at her. He didn't answer.

  “General Gage,” Powers called, “I order you to surrender!”

  “I can't do that, Major,” she answered.

  “I don't understand!” Powers shouted back. “This is insane. Why are you doing this?”

  “What difference does it make?” another voice said. Lovejoy again. “She's disobeyed an Imperial command. She's a traitor!”

  “Call me what you want!” Gage shouted. “But the fact remains that we only have one chance to win this war and that's to get Commander McMasters to General Loran-alive. I'll do anything to achieve that.”

  Lovejoy started to reply but Powers cut him short. “General,” Powers shouted, “you have no choice. You're pinned down and a small army will arrive shortly. You'll all die unless you surrender.”

  Gage spat on the floor. “I'll see you in hell, Powers.”

  Stella could hear the circulator open behind Powers. She risked a glance around the edge and saw a mass of soldiers slip quickly from it and take up positions. Some darted behind columns while others threw themselves prone and squinted through their rifle sights.

  “I'll give you two minutes!” Powers called. “Then we're coming in.”

  Stella sighed and looked about. She counted at least a dozen bodies, most of them Powers’ soldiers. At the Spaceranger's hatch, two guards ducked their heads out and were driven back by shots from Jason, who quickly reloaded.

  Behind the next column, George clutched Carol's hand in his own as if he were trying to hold her to life. Her chest rose and fell, rose and ... stopped.

  Stella closed her eyes, hearing George sob.

  “You know something?” Gage said to Stella over her shoulder. “You were right. Disobedience is a definite problem in the ranks these days.”

  Stella smiled bitterly. “It seems to be getting worse.”

  Gage grunted, her face pressed near the column's edge. “You know something else? This is my birthday.”

  Stella glanced at George, who was easing Carol's head gently to the floor and slipping free in preparation for the assault to come. Jason leaned against the column beside him, his gun raised. She saw him glance at her in concern, then peer around the column.

  “What about your family?” Stella asked Gage.

  Gage turned to her, but didn't answer. Instead, she laid her gun down on the floor. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I tried my best.”

  Stella bit her lip. A few columns to her right, one of Thunderheart's girls broke into a shrill wail of terror. Glancing over, she saw him press her head against his chest to comfort her.

  “Not your fault,” Stella said. “George would say it just wasn't in the cards.”

  Gage checked her cronex. “Thirty seconds left, Stella.” She coughed. “I want to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  Gage reached out and touched her shoulder. “My first name. I've always hated it but I never changed it. Somehow, it always seemed right for me even though I...” She coughed again, her eyes bright with fierce tears. “I've kept it secret, removed it from records and never told anyone, not even my two husbands. But I want you to know, Stella.”

  Stella swallowed. “All right.”

  Gage leaned forward, opened her mouth.

  Sudd
enly rifle fire burst out, spraying walls and columns. The attack was on.

  They came like the sea in remorseless waves. Stella saw Myles clutch his throat and die on his feet. O'Bannion had half his head blown off, splattered against a column. Morner collapsed, striking Nick as he fell. They came on and on and she watched in helpless rage, unable, despite her great strength, to do anything. At the next column, George knelt on one knee, calmly squeezing off shots as soldiers swarmed toward him. She saw bullets strike the column near his head, shearing off pieces and revealing a lighter-colored substance beneath.

  Beside him, Jason spun sharply and fell to the floor, dropping his gun. She saw him reach for it and rise to his knees, clutching his shoulder. He began firing again at the charging soldiers. George himself was reloading, his quick physician's fingers inserting the cartridges as attackers swarmed toward him.

  Other soldiers now moved toward her. Gage grunted. Grabbing Stella's shoulder, she yanked her to the floor and stepped before her with her gun raised.

  Lying there, Stella watched Gage in dread as she screened her from attack and fired at her own soldiers. One of them went down, then another. Gage's uniform appeared to be plucked by unseen fingers as bullets whipped past. An instant later, a bullet took her and she staggered back. Still, she kept her body in front of Stella. Trembling in anguish, Stella saw Gage swing her gun and another soldier scream and clutch his chest. Gage shot again, and then again as the stench of macrocordite filled the air.

  Then Gage's body seemed to dance as bullets found her. One cut her leg out from beneath her. She pulled another weapon from her belt as she swayed on one knee, her body gushing streams of blood. Gage raised the weapon and fired yet again, sending a bullet into the soldiers’ midst.

  A moment later, a broadside of bullets blasted her. Stella saw Gage shiver, then topple to the floor and lie still, the gun still gripped in her hand.

  Fighting back tears, Stella forced herself backward with her legs, trying to escape a death that was seconds away. The docking bay was a bleeding, reeking, smoke-filled battlefield, the scene of her final defeat. Fifteen meters away, an officer turned slowly, peering through the smoke. His eyes found her.

  Lovejoy.

  He started toward her, his pistol held upright in the air, his face a twitching mask of hate. A smile stained his features as he neared, widening into a savage grin.

  She drove herself backward, unable even to get to her feet. Oh, Gage ... she was just getting to know her! And Jason, he must be dead by now, the lips that had caressed hers forever still. She would never ... Straining, torn by grief, she saw Lovejoy close to ten meters, then five, his face cold, white, and filled with ferocious anticipation.

  Finally, he stopped. With a fierce grin, he lowered his gun and pointed it directly at her face. His finger tightened on the trigger.

  A flash of movement to the side caught his attention. He turned.

  And toward him, in the air, came Thunderheart, his gleaming body horizontal as he shot his foot out at Lovejoy's face. The blow caught Lovejoy with split-second accuracy, crushing his nose and chin and reducing his neat, regular features to jelly. Lovejoy's body flew through the air and Thunderheart sprang up, placing himself between the approaching soldiers and Stella. He crouched and spread his arms.

  Bitterly, Stella fought the body-cuff as never before, driving herself back against the floor-writhing, twisting. She heard something crack and the green polymer loosened, strained again and it parted against her breast. When she bent herself almost double, the suit snapped sharply and gave way. She struggled to throw it off, only to feel both it and the robe slide upward-over her chin, over her face. Gripping it from inside, she strove to cast it off.

  It wouldn't go. The body-cuff closed and settled tightly over her head, trapping her arms. She struggled on in darkness, her heels viciously pounding the floor.

  She was caught, couldn't get out. She would die this way!

  Someone seized the suit and pulled ... pulled again. The body-cuff began to open. Another savage effort and light blazed in. She saw a pair of black hands rip the fabric and robe apart and cast them aside, bringing her back into life.

  Above her, Thunderheart knelt, still alive amid the din of death, and kissed her cheek. Then he was up and the guns flashed. Stella rose to follow, but two soldiers rushed toward her. A bullet whizzed past her cheek. She clubbed one, then the other, a heavy man who fell on top of her and carried her to the floor. She killed him with another punch and threw him off her.

  Before she could rise, a soldier aimed a rifle directly at her. “Don't move,” he shouted, “or I'll shoot!”

  Weaponless and on the floor, Stella was unable to help Thunderheart, surrounded by soldiers ten meters away. A bullet took him pointblank in the chest, yet he closed with his attacker as if he had missed. A quick chop and the soldier dropped like a stone. Thunderheart whirled, taking another soldier out with a flashing kick to the chest. As he spun back, another bullet struck him, but he only leapt through the air and delivered a series of lethal punches in lightning succession. She saw two more soldiers fall, then a third as they closed in about him, firing again and again until he could not rise.

  It was over. Within seconds, the docking bay was secured, the soldiers in full control. Staring at the floor in misery, Stella saw a pair of black boots obstruct her view. She looked up.

  Colonel Powers gazed down at her with a strange expression. In her present state, it seemed sphinxlike or mystical, a mandala she couldn't read.

  “Congratulations,” she rasped. “You have just lost us the war.”

  Footsteps approached in the distance, clear and coldly distinct. Through a surreal haze, she saw the tall figure approach in its magnificent crimson robe. She laughed weakly. Hail, the Angel of Death.

  The footsteps stopped. His face taut, Regent-Protector Malek held out his hand. “Colonel Powers, give me one of your pistols.”

  Powers frowned. “Ser?”

  “A pistol, Colonel. At once.”

  Powers looked away, perhaps hoping that the Emperor would arrive and stop this. But the Emperor, of course, was only a little boy, probably unconscious in a drug-induced sleep.

  Powers drew his pistol and gave it to Malek.

  “Thank you.” Malek, whose eyes had never left hers, raised the weapon and aimed it between her eyes. “I should have ordered this done when you dared offend the Imperial Court.”

  “No!”

  To her right, Jason lunged forward with a bloody arm, only to be seized by soldiers. Malek didn't even look.

  “Traitors without honor who disgrace their uniform and defile their sacred vows deserve to die on their face in the dirt. But in your case, I'm willing to make an exception.” He flicked the barrel. “Get up. I want to see if you have the guts to take it on your feet.”

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  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  She rose, facing the barrel pointed between her eyes. Slowly, so there was no chance Malek would think it a threat, she raised her hand and saluted him.

  Malek's lips hardened. She saw his finger start to move.

  “Ser,” Powers said, “don't you think we should take her to the brig?”

  Malek didn't answer. His finger tightened.

  The gun exploded in a loud discharge, but the bullet missed her head.

  Stella didn't flinch. “It's you who are the traitor, and you who have betrayed your trust,” she said. “Worst of all, you have willfully failed your own Emperor.”

  Malek's head snapped back in surprise, and the gun sagged in his hand. He would like her to crawl or at least cringe, so she smiled instead. She would give him nothing.

  As Jason strained in his captors’ hands, others protested too. George and Lee-still alive!-pressed forward, only to be seized.

  Farther off, Brett Duvall was cursing with an imaginative richness that rivaled Thunderheart's. Malek listened to none of it. Instead he raised the gun again. Stella s
tared at the barrel.

  There was a streak of movement as Powers drew his gun and pressed its barrel to Malek's temple. “No,” he said.

  Stunned seconds passed. “C-Colonel,” Malek finally managed, “what are you doing?”

  Powers’ Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. “With all due respect, Regent-Protector, I think we should take Commander McMasters to the brig to await her court-martial.”

  Malek's face reddened. “This is treason!”

  Other officers advanced. One, Stella saw, was Major Chong, who had led her interrogation. “Colonel, you're the security officer. Holster your weapon at once!”

  Powers’ eyes dropped to the pistol in his hand. He stared at it in confusion, as if he had awakened from some dream and couldn't believe what he saw. Stella watched his resolve waver.

  “Colonel Powers,” Lee cried, “I know how you feel. I had to destroy a guard ship carrying several of our own comrades in order to save my commander. I hated to do it and it's going to hurt a long time, but I knew it was right no matter what others would say.”

  Chong sneered, the cast of his features identical to Lee's, but his voice icily different. “Sheer sophistry! It's only a cheap rationale for treason.”

  “No,” Powers said, “it's not.” He stared at Malek, pressing his pistol harder against the Regent-Protector's temple. “I serve a higher good too.”

  “What higher good?” Chong laughed mockingly. “Killing the Regent-Protector? Where in your vows does it say you should do that?”

  Lee squirmed, his arm locked behind him by a soldier. “I'll tell you where! It says in the third paragraph of the Imperial Oath that any enemy of the Emperor, no matter what his side or how high his position, shall be your enemy, and his orders rendered null and void.” He glared at Chong. “Try reading it sometime, Major!”

  Before Stella, Malek trembled in fear and rage. “All this stupid talk. You're nothing but a damned traitor, Colonel.”

  Powers stiffened, cocked his pistol. “I'm getting a little tired of that word. It seems only those with the most power feel they have the right to use it.”