Beyond Those Distant Stars

by John B. Rosenman

  When they were in her cabin, he came to the point. “Jason told me what happened.”

  Stella let her face freeze over. “Really.”

  “Yes. He's very upset, Stella. He came to me in a frenzy. I had to sedate him.”

  “I presume there's a point to all this?”

  “He told me about his mother dying,” George said quietly. “About the man who came between them. He said he'd only told it to one other person before and that was you.”

  She folded her arms, trying to seal the hurt in, not let it erupt. “Is this all supposed to excuse what he did? Or make me feel sorry for him?” She managed to smile even though it felt ghastly. “Congratulations, George. You were right when you warned me about him. Jason's a womanizer, and that's all he is.”

  “Stella, when Jason's mother died, she took his childhood with her. I haven't run a psy-con on him, but it doesn't take any deep insight to see that he distrusts women because of what his mother did. He sees her absorption in the man as a betrayal, and her laughing at him and calling him a little boy as proof that she didn't love him. The fact that she died soon after only makes it worse. It explains why he runs from woman to woman to avoid being hurt again.”

  She lowered her arms, feeling her control go. “What is this, instant diagnosis? Psycho-babble?” She stepped forward and tapped George's chest. “Let me tell you something. You didn't see his face when he was rutting Dr. Wynn. His mother wasn't there, and he enjoyed every moment of it.”

  “I know you've been terribly hurt,” George said. “Ordinarily, you'd have every right to shut Jason out. But Stella, this is war. You don't have time to adjust, don't have time for personal concerns. We could all be dead soon, blown into atoms amid the stars. If you lived and Jason died without you seeing him one last time, imagine the pain you'd feel.” His mouth twitched. “Believe me, I know all about remorse.”

  “What are you saying, George?”

  “I know it's a lot to ask, but would you consider talking to him? Perhaps give him a chance to explain?”

  Explain. She couldn't even think of seeing Jason, much less talking to him about why he'd broken every promise he'd made to her, all the way back to their first meeting. To seek him out, to ask him why he had taken something that was so beautiful and spat on it-no, she just couldn't do it. Nor could she bear the thought that Jason and everything they'd shared had been an illusion, a glib lie. How could she have been so stupid, and how could she ever trust any man again?

  “I know how you feel,” George said.

  “You know how I feel?” She snorted. “Believe me, George, you don't have the faintest idea!”

  “Then maybe I don't,” George said. “Maybe you can explain it to me. It has something to do with your accident, doesn't it, and your feelings about your ... body?”

  She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “Just that if it hadn't happened, you might feel a little differently about Jason and his actions the other day,” George said gently.

  “I see,” Stella said, her voice hardening. “Let me try to guess the rest. You're going to say that if I hadn't lost my body in an accident, I wouldn't take his rejection so badly. Or maybe it's not a rejection at all. Maybe you think we're both sick or wounded inside. Is that what you feel, George?”

  “Look,” George said, “I'm not trying to minimize what Jason did. It was a terrible betrayal. If this was peacetime, you'd be justified in freezing him out. But this is war, Stella, and we're fighting for our survival. As Commander, you must be logical, analytical. You can't allow anything to cloud your judgment. You can't make decisions based on anger or rage or personal feelings. Too many lives depend on your being in complete control.”

  “I'll tell you what I think,” Stella said. “I don't want to talk about this anymore.” Despite herself, she continued. “Damn it, he didn't lose most of his body, I did. He can slip back into his nice beautiful hide any time he wants. But me-what can I go back to, George? Believe me, you'll never, never know what it feels like.”

  “You could tell me,” he said softly. “I'd be glad to listen.”

  She stepped back. “I don't want to talk about myself. I've already done it enough.”

  He extended his palm. “Then what about Jason? We could talk about him.”

  “Why would I want to?” she said. “Why should I want to at all?” She ran her hand through her hair, seeing Jason in her cabin after Wynn had left. Please, he had said. I love you. She pushed the memory away, hardening herself. “Why should I even care? Don't you remember that it was you who warned me about him in the first place?”

  “Yes, and I was wrong,” George said. “I've watched you both the last couple weeks and if any people belong together, it's you two.”

  She reached out and touched George's hand. “If I hadn't been so blind, I'd have picked you instead of him.”

  George's face twitched. “No, not me.” His eyes moistened. “I've loved you, Stella, but I've had no right. Not after what I did as a soldier. Compared to me, Jason is a saint.”

  “That was when you were young,” she said. “You've changed. Unlike Jason, you've grown, matured. Besides, there were extenuating...” An insight broke upon her with such force that she trembled. “My God, we're both similar. I can't bend with Jason even though it's war, and you can't forgive yourself because in your heart you'll always be what you once were.”

  George smiled painfully. “You would have made a good psyche-physician, Stella.”

  She sighed. “It doesn't matter. I can't change the way I feel.”

  George stared back, and then shrugged. “Well, there you have it,” he said.

  Her comconsole beeped. She went and tapped in to Lee.

  “McMasters here,” she said.

  “Commander,” Lee said quickly, “we've got a ship coming up on us fast. I've boosted power, but it's still gaining.”

  “Ship?” She flashed George a look. “Is it a pursuit ship from Loran Base?”

  “Negative. It looks like a rebel scut, ser. And its message...”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “Commander,” Lee said, “its captain sounds determined. He's ordered us to surrender at once.”

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  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  When they reached the bridge, George announced at once that they weren't rebels. “See those ventral fins, the pointed bow and overall streamlining? They're Denzee pirates, and those ships are cutters.”

  “What are they doing here?” Stella said. “Pirates usually haunt the trade runs, dart in and sting us before our police can arrive.” She waved at the open space before them. “There's nothing out here but void.”

  “Ser,” Lee said, “there might be more. It's common knowledge that in a week or two the greatest battle of the war will take place here.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I see. These are the vultures who will feast on the remains, no matter what side wins.”

  “They don't know the Slugs would eat them too,” George said.

  Stella nodded and checked their velocity. “Are they still gaining on us?”

  “It's leveled out, ser,” Lee said. “They're twelve thousand kilometers behind, and in a minute we should start to gain.”

  “They haven't fired,” George pointed out.

  “We're probably outside their effective range,” Stella said, “and in any case, they'd want us as undamaged as possible.” She gnawed her lip, studying the control panel. “They haven't commed us again?”

  “No, ser,” Lee said.

  “Try to reach ‘em. See if you can get some vid so we can see what we're dealing with.”

  She watched Lee run the frequencies, tightbeam to broad. Nothing. Only static and white noise on the bands. Then came a flash and a face appeared.

  “Ser,” Lee said, “they're sending again.”

  “Shh.” She studied the face, which was swarthy and wore a broad-brimmed, tall crowned hat tied under the chin. The
man was small and gave them a wide, toothy grin.

  “Ah, buenos dias, amigos. It's so good to see you!”

  She stared at him. “I'm Stella McMasters, Commander of the Spaceranger. Who are you and what do you want?”

  “Mis companeros,” the man said with a smile. “I am Pancho Villa of La Libertad, and I am proud to inform you that I am the spiritual reincarnation of that great revolutionary leader of old Mejico.” He crossed his arms. “I demand your unconditional surrender at once.”

  Stella glanced at George, who covered his mouth with his hand. “I've seen his compfile, Stella. He's a sombrero-wearing crackbrain, and he's not even of Mexican descent. Don't be fooled by the skin treatment and dyed beard. His ideas are a mishmash, like that crazy religion Malek hooked the Emperor on.”

  “Mis companeros,” Pancho rumbled. “Please, do me the courtesy to speak to me. And do so muy pronto, eh?” He glowered at them. “Now, be so good as to tell me if you will accept my terms.”

  Terms? He was asking for unconditional surrender. Stella leaned forward. “Ride off into the sunset, amigo. And do so muy pronto.”

  Pancho's face darkened and he rattled off a string of language she didn't understand. She looked at George.

  “Old-style Terran Spanish,” he said. “I'm no expert, but most of it's pretty bad, especially the accent.”

  Stella turned back to Pancho. “Look, let me explain something. You and your ship tried to sneak up on us and it didn't work.” She glanced at a vid that plotted the distance between them and their pursuers. Fourteen thousand, seven hundred kilometers. “We're rapidly leaving you behind in our dust.”

  “Ah, it is all so mucho triste.” Pancho's fingers stroked the drooping ends of his mustache, and he gave them a hangdog look that made Stella smile.

  George placed his lips to her ear. “What are we talking to this clown for? Let's break contact and tend to business.”

  She nodded and started to order Lee to do just that.

  “Mucho triste,” Pancho said. “It is muy hard to serve the little nino these days.”

  “What was that, Pancho?” Her mouth quirked as she realized she'd just called a hostile pirate by his first name.

  “What did I say?” Pancho said. “I was merely stating that these are bad, sad times for un hombre who loves and serves his Emperador. The war has made his merchants so muy pobre that they have put me in a casa de caridad.”

  Stella heard laughter. She turned, seeing several crew members clutching their sides at Pancho's woebegone expression. Even Colonel Powers was trying hard to contain himself. Beyond him, she saw Jason entering the bridge. She turned quickly to George.

  “I think that means ‘poorhouse,'” George chuckled. He leaned toward Pancho's image. “You say you have no dinero for your companeros?” he asked. “You are what they call, los pobres-the poor?”

  “Ah, si,” Pancho nodded vigorously. “It is muy mucho triste. My Emperador-may the saints protect him!-has been unable to look after his servants in his war.”

  To Stella, it would have been comical if it weren't so infuriating. This ugly little rascal claimed to be patriotic. Did he actually believe his screw-brained statement?

  “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You say you love your Emperor, Kolanera the Fifth.”

  Pancho's dark face bobbed up and down. “Ah, si, muy mucho! As I loved and revered his padre y madre before they died. Tanto trajico. Tanto trajico!” She watched Pancho cross his heart with two quick gestures. “Such a sweet little nino he is. He will make a muy grande Emperador one day.”

  “I don't understand,” Stella said. “If you love your Emperor so much, why do you steal from his merchants and representatives? Why have you come here, if not to be scavengers who will plunder the Emperor's ships after they've been destroyed by the enemy?”

  There. That should prick anyone's conscience. But Pancho's eyes only widened at her apparent obtuseness. “Ah, Senorita, even a dog has its fleas, no? You can't have one without the other. It is the way of things! Through it all, I remain el Emperador's loyal pirata.” He struck the surface before him. “I love my Emperador muy mucho! I steal, yes, but I never, ever touch his personal ships or molest his, how you say it, his ambassadors.” He wagged a chastising finger. “If I was asked, Comandante, I would gladly lay down my life for him.”

  Stella considered this outburst then felt an amazing idea take form. If Pancho was genuinely loyal, perhaps she could have two ships to use in case General Loran rejected her plan. If he didn't agree to withdraw his forces while she faced the enemy alone, she would have Pancho threaten to kill Malek.

  There were only two problems. First, what if Loran refused? Second, could she be sure Pancho wouldn't run off with Malek and hold him for ransom? After all, Pancho was a pirate. Perhaps she could arrange for an exchange of crew so her watchdogs could be in two places at once.

  What else? She gnawed her lip. Loran knew Powers, so Powers should accompany her to Loran as Gage's representative. But what would she say when Loran asked why no one had radioed the news first? Hmm, perhaps the enemy had blocked the transmission.

  “Pierce,” Stella said, “have Malek brought here at once.”

  Powers frowned, then lifted a comlink and spoke into it. “He'll be on the bridge in two minutes,” he told Stella.

  “Good.” She smiled at Pancho. “Capitan Villa, would you mind, por favor, if we terminate contact for uh, tres minutes to discuss your terms?”

  “Ah, por favor,” Pancho said, obviously pleased. “Of course, Senorita.”

  Lee pressed a button and Pancho flashed into black. “All right,” Stella said to George, Lee, and Powers, “I want you over here. And Peter,” she said, addressing the jump pilot, “I want you to keep a close watch on that ship. Let me know if they do anything suspicious.”

  “I will, ser,” Peter said. Ignoring Jason, who stood near the bridge's entrance, Stella smiled at George.

  “Well, George, have you figured it out yet?”

  George made a gesture to show he was completely lost. “All I know is that you're not about to surrender this ship to that cut-rate bandido. Why do you want Malek here?”

  “I think I know,” Lee said.

  George put his hands on his hips and jabbed his chin out. “Perhaps you'd be so kind as to let the rest of us know.”

  “Of course, Dr. Darron,” Lee said. “Commander McMasters, I believe, feels that we need an extra ship.”

  “'Extra ship'?” Powers said. “For what?”

  Stella saw Lee smile. “To hold a hostage, Regent-Protector Malek,” he said.

  George was about to reply when Peter's voice swept the bridge. “I get it! That's a brilliant move, Commander. You're going to see General Loran and if for some reason he won't agree to your plan, you'll have—”

  “An ace in the hole,” George finished. He placed the heel of his hand against his forehead and ground it in. “God-talk about strange bedfellows! And you think since this Pancho claims to love the Emperor so much that if you show him this bastard Malek...”

  Powers, who had been following the exchange in confusion, suddenly stiffened. “You're going to put the Regent-Protector on a pirate ship?” He gripped his hat as if to keep it from flying off. “What the hell's going to keep them from just flying off and ransoming him themselves?”

  Stella looked at Lee, who seemed to be right in tune with her. “An exchange of crew,” he said.

  “That's right,” Stella said. “A good will swap. We give them say, half of ours and they can do the same.”

  Powers stared at her, then turned to George with a stunned expression. “Is she often like this, George?”

  “Oh, si,” he nodded. “Things are always muy interesante with our commander.”

  Footsteps. Stella turned to see Malek, his arms bound behind him, ushered by two guards onto the bridge. He looked considerably chastened as a result of his confinement during the past two weeks.

  When Malek was standing with th
em, she nodded at Lee, who reestablished communications with Pancho.

  Pancho's face quickly filled with disgust. “Mierda! The Emperador I love but not this dog.”

  “You know this gentleman, Capitan?”

  “Know him?” Pancho broke into a string of guttural Spanish.

  “Please, Capitan,” Stella said. “Use English!”

  Pancho cursed and thrust his finger at Malek. “This gentleman, Comandante, this dog of a whore, he killed my blood brother Ramos.”

  Malek stiffened, trying to recover some dignity. “If I did,” he said, “then he deserved it. It's my sworn duty to protect the Emperor.”

  “Protect what? A shit-filled, third-rate merchant scug that wasn't worth the money to blow up? I heard all about it from some of his crew who escaped.”

  Stella, noting that Pancho was no longer speaking Spanish, gave Malek a nudge. “He's done more than that, Capitan. At Loran Base, which we recently visited, he was responsible for more of your brothers dying.”

  Pancho's eyes narrowed to slits. “So that's why he's on your ship. You take him captive, eh?”

  George leaned forward. “We're starting una revolucion, senor.”

  “Una revolucion?” The word seemed to hypnotize Pancho. Stella saw him repeat it silently.

  She shook her head. “No, not just una revolucion. Una GALACTIC revolucion.” Pancho's eyes got wider and wider. Stella continued. “It will be una revolucion that is worthy of a great leader like yourself rather than a cut-rate bandido. And you know why we will fight for it, Capitan Villa? Because this dog of a whore has betrayed the Emperador you love so much.”

  “That's true,” George inserted. “He has him addicted to drugs. I saw it myself.”

  “Drugs?” Pancho said.

  “Probably meroxadex,” George continued. “We all saw el Emperador forced to take it. But there is something even worse, my loyal pirata. Though el Emperador is but an innocent, vulnerable child, this dog has grown men and women use him, if you know what I mean.”

  Pancho's mouth sagged open. “He has done this to my Emperador, my little nino?”