Beyond Those Distant Stars

by John B. Rosenman

  Catching herself, she pulled herself back again. It was all so seductive, so terribly tempting. Even now, despite the horror of what she had almost become, she felt the lure of such power beckon again, begin to pull her back once more.

  Stella, the All-Mother soothed in a voice like fragrant moonlight, don't refuse my gift.

  “It almost worked, didn't it?” Stella said hoarsely, forcing her hunger down. “But you can't have me. I won't let you use my own darkness to destroy me.” She trembled, the All-Mother's voice lingering like a narcotic in her blood. “If I can resist your false Jason, I can sure as hell do the same with any shadow trick you conjure up, even if you snatch it from my soul.”

  Whirling, Stella summoned all her strength and all her resolve. Reaching out, she plunged her mind again into the swirling red vortex that would eject her adversary from the ship. “As I told you before,” she said, “I learned this from your son. Don't you detect a note of irony in that, All-Mother?”

  Her enemy's thoughts hardened. You cannot do this.

  Stella raised the crystal toward the vortex. “Watch me.”

  You must not refuse such power! the All-Mother raged. I give you Creation to dispose of as you will!

  “It's only another lie,” Stella answered. “And even if it weren't, I don't want it-or you.” She moved the crystal into the force field.

  No, I beg you! the All-Mother wailed. Her imperious tone vanished, replaced now by one Stella had never heard before. Please, I beg you.

  Stella smiled, holding her enemy on the edge of eternity. Begging at last, Oh Mighty One? she thought. And do you seek my mercy and compassion? Did you ever show such sentiments to the decillions you must have killed in all your universes? Did you bother even to listen to their cries and prayers, their screams of agony and the weeping of their loved ones? The tube opened into space and Stella watched the crystal leave her fingers and slide down the force field toward the black pit of the singularity, carrying the All-Mother's final cry into eternity.

  Noooooooooo!

  And as Stella's psychic link with her foe waned, she felt five thousand Slugs die in agony as their sustaining bond with their commander was broken. The All-Mother's passing was far from alone, for she was taking the last of an entire race with her.

  Clenching her fist, Stella threw her voice after the crystal in the loudest and fiercest shout of her life.

  “Adios, amiga!”

  An instant later, just before the ship itself plunged down the gravity well, Stella raced across the bow to the drive system to reverse their course. If George was still alive, he would never survive such a passage. She didn't think she had a chance in the universe to save him, but she had to try.

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  * * *

  Epilogue

  The day of the ceremony dawned bright and glorious, a harbinger of things to come. Before the platform, people stretched far into the distance, their mood joyful and expectant. After one year, the long crushing war was fading from their minds as they turned optimistically to the future. They could do that now, the Emperor had assured them, since human beings were once again masters of the galaxy.

  For this one day, though, they would also remember the dead and commemorate the first anniversary of their victory over the All-Mother. When the huge, bearded man rose and advanced to the podium, a million voices cheered. Minicams whirred silently, preserving the event for other worlds. The man spoke quietly, simply, concerned only with introducing the blonde-haired woman who soon rose from her chair. The ovation that greeted her name was deafening, and she paused to smile down at a beautiful boy with dark curly hair. Then she walked across the platform to the podium, accepted the man's embrace, and gazed out at the people.

  Raising her hands, Regent-Protector Stella Singlethorne McMasters smiled, and the ovation became still louder. It pounded against her and made even the platform vibrate. She let it continue for a minute before indicating it should stop, but her gestures only served to excite the people more. Accepting what she could not change, she turned to gaze at those on the platform.

  There was Kolanera the Fifth, ‘Tippi’ as she now privately called him, sitting next to her mother who looked both radiant and overwhelmed. The Emperor held her mother's hand fondly, playing the role of Imperial host with a grace and poise beyond his years. Stella chuckled. Even now, after a full year, her mother couldn't quite believe that the Emperor liked to hold her hand.

  In the first row sat other people who were important to Stella. George Darron overfilled the seat on the other side of her own. She saw him grin and raise his fingers in a victory sign. To his left sat Lee Song, Tessa Farron and her son, General Gage's family, and selected officers of the Spaceranger. Colonel Powers, now General Powers and Supreme Commander of Imperial Forces, sat talking to Pancho Villa, Director of Police. She enjoyed the former pirate's delight in his starched dress greens and regulation spit-shined boots. Though the bandoleers were gone, she was glad he'd kept his mustache, and glad too that despite criticism, this seemingly mismatched pair had already proved remarkably effective in reducing crime and piracy.

  Behind them, in the second row, sat her primary enemy. Lord Quinn Regis Hamilton, tall, handsome, and the head of a prominent family, was a fabulously rich and influential aristocrat. Even now, at the peak of her power and with the Empire still recovering from the war, he worked to defeat her vigorous initiatives in human rights and legal equality. Meeting his eyes, Stella knew he hated her and despised being on the same stage with such people as Tessa Farron and her son, Pancho and the equally low-born Lee Song. If he had his way, the punitive policy of exclusion would be returned with a vengeance.

  Turning around, Stella faced the people, and this time their welcome subsided when she raised her hand.

  “Citizens of the Empire of United Worlds,” she said into the microphones, “it seems only proper, on the day that marks the first anniversary of our victory over the enemy, that we celebrate it on the planet that is the birthplace of our race.”

  Cheers rose as a million throats roared approval. Glancing at the tall, veiled structure beside the platform, she waited for the applause to subside.

  “I'm not good at speeches,” Stella said, turning her head to gaze at individual faces, “so I'll keep this brief. Since our Emperor appointed me Regent-Protector, I have been privileged to preside at a variety of occasions. I have spoken to you of our dead and wounded, of our gallant comrades who gave so much in the recent conflict. I have officiated at the rededication of our defense complex, which will replenish the thousands of ships we lost even though those who perished can never be replaced. And last, though there are those who oppose such views, I have argued for a fundamental change in human and individual rights, a change that combines compassion with strength, mercy with justice. A change that recognizes that despite our differences in birth and wealth and ability, we are all comrades and members of humanity and deserve an equal opportunity to enjoy the good life.”

  The people cheered. She smiled, wondering if she was beginning to turn into a politician, and waited until they again grew quiet.

  When they did, she gripped the podium. “I am happy to tell you that such a fundamental change in our thinking and values has the enthusiastic and heart-felt support of the Emperor himself and the Regent-Protector's Council. They too share my belief that no child or spouse, no clan or family member, should be forced to bear the shame for a kin person's failures and compelled to face censure and ostracism. Instead, they should be treated with love and sympathy, and with the understanding that the same fate could easily befall us all.”

  She paused, glancing again at the tall structure beside the platform with its opaque white veil. The applause that came this time was less intense and certain, but it was there. She knew that before the war's conclusion, there would have been only boos and denunciations.

  “Today,” she continued, “we have gathered here to make flesh the words I have spoken, to embody them i
n a living monument to one of the comrades who made our victory possible. Like General Powers, who now occupies the office lately held by that great soldier and patriot, General Loran, General Gage too had the courage to do what others said was treason for the good of her comrades. She too had the vision to place conscience before rigid creed, and gave her life so that others might live. Today, I am here to tell you, and the members of her family who honor us with their presence, that if it were not for what some might call General Gage's ‘treasonous’ actions, we would have lost the war. Instead of being transformed into rulers of this galaxy who have already trebled our technological knowledge as a result of the ships we captured, we would be buried in the final stages of defeat and ruin.”

  This time when she paused, the applause was the greatest yet. She raised her hands for silence.

  “Of all the state occasions I have attended since the war's conclusion, this is the most moving. General Gage loved books and culture, and I'm sure she would have fervently endorsed the words in an ancient Terran book that we should ‘beat’ our ‘swords into plowshares.’ It is therefore with deep personal pleasure that I greet you here today at the statuary unveiling and ground breaking for the A. Gage Center for Humanistic Studies.”

  A million voices swelled. As they cheered, she found herself remembering the All-Mother. They had been enemies but at the same time, so close. If only she had used her vast powers for good rather than evil.

  Still, that was the same temptation the All-Mother had offered her, wasn't it? And she had almost accepted it.

  After some minutes, she signaled again for silence. What had she been about to say? Oh, yes.

  “The A. Gage Center for Humanistic Studies, which one day will stand on the ground where we are gathered, will be dedicated to the millions of comrades who gave their lives in the war. Every single brick will bear a name, and if necessary, every tile inside will do the same.” She smiled. “No comrade, however obscure, will be forgotten, and I promise that every name shall be preserved for posterity.”

  Stella stiffened and placed her hands behind her. “In addition, I pledge to you that we shall do even more. We will take careful measures to insure that General Gage's illustrious name and valiant image are preserved for ages to come, and that this comrade whom we cherish so deeply will never be forgotten!”

  Stella nodded at the officials who stood near the covered structure beside the platform. They stepped toward it, picked up the veil by its edges, and swept it free.

  On a duroplast plinth, the statue of General A. Gage rose gleaming in the sun, fashioned of Tiranium blue-veined, glistening white marble. Looking at it, Stella thought that Gage looked just as she remembered. Legs parted, hands locked behind her back, jaw thrust up against a taller world, Gage appeared on the verge of launching a blunt, no-nonsense broadside at a hapless offender. The only thing she lacked was her red whistle.

  As the applause for Gage's statue subsided, Stella descended the stairs with the Emperor and headed for the ground before the platform where the culminating part of the ceremony would take place. It was one that she owed to George, for it had been he who had told her of the ancient rite.

  She had arranged for Tessa Farron to present her with the iridium shovel, but instead Quinn Regis Hamilton had carried it down from the platform. He stood there in his elegant, purple, ruffled shirt, smiling at her as others gathered around.

  Stella glanced at Kolanera. He could order Hamilton to surrender the shovel to Tessa even more effectively than she. But an Imperial directive would leave a bad taste at such an event, especially since there were those who still regarded Tessa as a traitor's widow.

  Very clever, Lord Hamilton, she thought. Even here, even this early, you have used your influence to draw the sides. I shall not forget this.

  Holding the shovel in both hands, Hamilton gracefully pointed it at the ground. “You have a hard task, Regent-Protector. The sun has made the dirt hard.”

  Stella looked down, seeing it was true. They had cleared the grass and the dirt that remained had been baked by the sun.

  She reached for the shovel and Hamilton gave it to her. He stood watching her with a slight smile.

  She turned the shovel in her hands. She hadn't thought of it before, but the square design of the scoop wasn't designed for hard soil. If it were only pointed.

  Stella looked at Tessa, who held Ulysses’ hand. Both mother and son seemed anxious, as did Kolanera and her mother. She gave them all a smile and fed it last to Hamilton.

  “It's only dirt,” she told him.

  She raised the shovel in her hands and brought it down with all her strength, driving it deep into the packed dirt. Her hands twisted, her shoulders turned, and with smooth ease she brought the fully laden shovel up just beneath Hamilton's chin. She smiled, seeing that he didn't look so smug now.

  “Would you like to try the next scoop, my Lord? It's not as hard as it looks.”

  * * * *

  Sometime later Kolanera touched her hand as they sat together on the platform. Before it, people in the crowd were now taking turns with the shovel, struggling to widen the hole she had started.

  “I thought you weren't good at giving speeches,” Kolanera said. “I'd say that was the best one I've ever heard.”

  Stella squeezed the Emperor's hand. “Thanks, Tippi.”

  She smiled and gazed out above the people at the turquoise sky. Luna, she saw, was full and clearly visible, and beyond it a whole galaxy waited. Despite enemies, things were pretty fine at the moment. After all, she had her mother, the Emperor, and all her friends here. And she knew that beyond those distant stars Jason waited for her, just as he had promised.

  ~The End~

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