Starhold

by J. Alan Field

  The car turned off the main street and began the climb up the drive toward the administration complex. Cheprin had said little on the trip, but Sheel could feel his relief. The Lord Governor had worried that the nearby human governments would send war fleets of their own before the Rhuzari reinforcements arrived. Especially troubling was an incident six months ago, when the camouflage network crashed for a few days. An alien mining vessel had stumbled into the Sol system at precisely that time, and it turned out to be an awkward affair. No matter, thought Sheel, it looks like everything is going to work out.

  Undoubtedly hoping to be greeted by Naar upon his return to the Compound, Cheprin was visibly disappointed when he found his other aide, Goran, waiting at the front entrance. Ah yes, Goran, thought Sheel, the one who actually does all of the work.

  “And welcome back, sirs! I trust all went well at the school dedication!” Goran beamed as the two men entered the building.

  “Where is Naar?” Cheprin sourly demanded.

  “I believe she is in your suite, sir. She mentioned something about a nap before dinner,” Goran eagerly answered. He was in his mid-thirties—a tall, gangling sort with a high forehead and an oblong face that was perpetually wreathed in smiles. Sheel was positive that most of Naar’s work was actually performed by Administrator Goran.

  The Lord Governor stopped just short of his office door. “Perhaps I should look in on her,” he considered aloud. Goran and Sheel traded glances. Goran had a look of befuddlement, while Sheel was amused at the predictability of it all.

  “Ah, sir, she did insist that she was not to be disturbed before six o’clock,” put in Goran earnestly.

  “My Lord Governor,” offered Sheel, “Fleetmaster Haldryn will be waiting on your communication. Perhaps you should let Madam Naar sleep a while longer and then you can check in on her after you’ve welcomed the fleet.”

  Cheprin turned to snap at Sheel, but thought better of it. As the Lord Governor proceeded into his office, Sheel murmured something to Goran, then followed Cheprin in and closed the door.

  “Oh, Sheel, are you still here? Well, make yourself useful and pour me a glass of wine, the red. Let’s get this call over with. ‘I welcome him, he acknowledges my authority, blah, blah.’ You know I appreciate form as much as anyone does, but I really do have better things to do with my time. I can meet with him later, when we begin planning the military campaign to conquer this space for our Lord Emperor.” Cheprin had stopped short of his desk and was preening in the wall mirror.

  “Yes, my Lord, all very tedious protocol,” Sheel said as he poured the wine. The single glass…

  Cheprin hadn’t moved away from the mirror when his Deputy Governor handed him the drink. “Sheel, get this Fleetmaster Haldryn on the comm so I can get this over with.”

  “I’ve instructed Goran to set things up and signal us when the connection is ready.”

  Cheprin knocked back the glass in his usual two or three gulps and sat down behind his desk. “You know, now that the first of the fleet reinforcements have arrived, I look forward to unleashing our forces. I think this Commonwealth will put up the best fight, but in the end, their worlds will belong to our Honored Emperor. Our forces are simply too powerful for them to resist. The bridgehead we’ve established here will only be the beginning,” he said before reaching to unbutton the top of his tunic. “Sheel, it’s incredibly warm in here. Be a good fellow and turn down the temperature.”

  Sheel tapped at a control pad he held in his hand. “You were saying, my Lord.”

  “I was—saying. Ah, yes, then…” Cheprin’s voice dropped off. He placed his right hand over his brow and perspiration began beading up on his face.

  Sheel gazed at the Lord Governor, his eyes growing wide. “My Lord? My Lord, is there something wrong?”

  Cheprin looked up at his subordinate. “I don’t know. I feel—I feel dizzy, and very warm. I feel ill. Perhaps I’ve had too much sun today. Call for Doctor Devi.”

  Sheel moved quickly to kneel at the right side of his superior, placing his hand on Cheprin’s arm to steady him, lest he tumble from his chair. “My Lord, you’ve been poisoned!”

  Cheprin’s eyes swiveled to find Sheel’s face. “Don’t be absurd, Sheel,” he said as his words beginning to slur. “Why would you think I’ve been poisoned?”

  “Because I’m the one who poisoned you—just now, with the wine.” Sheel steadied the slumping Lord Governor as Cheprin tried to say something, but couldn’t get it to come out. Just then, the door opened and Naar stepped into the room.

  She stopped cold and gawked at the two men, trying to gauge the situation.

  “Close the door,” Sheel ordered brusquely.

  Frozen for only a moment, the blonde shut the door and then walked quickly to take up a position on the Lord Governor’s left side. “Sheel, what the hell is going on? You promised me I could do it!”

  Sheel shrugged. “I know, but you weren’t here and an opportunity arose. Besides, he was about to speak with the fleetmaster of the battle group and I had to prevent that. It had to be done now.”

  “Where’s Goran?” she asked.

  “He’s off running an errand I gave him to get him out of the way. The only ones nearby are our people.”

  Cheprin’s head bobbed back and forth trying to follow the exchange. “Naar… What are you…? Why are…?” He tried to demand an explanation, but his brain and body were failing him. Slumping back in his chair, his dilated blue eyes simply stared at the bearded Lesser Lord.

  Sheel placed a hand on the Lord Governor’s shoulder. “You were about to hand over everything to your beloved Emperor and I couldn’t allow that to happen. Your esteemed Emperor this and your honored Emperor that! By the stars, all that deference to him is so nauseating. This planet and the nearby worlds, all that we stumbled onto a dozen years ago is too good to hand over to anyone back home, least of all your fool Emperor! If anyone’s going to be emperor here, it’s going to be me.”

  Cheprin stared back with a blank expression.

  Naar reached for his arm and failed to find a pulse. “Yeah, I think he died about halfway through your little rant. It was a great rant though. Congratulations, Lord Governor Sheel. You’re sure the stuff you used won’t be traceable?”

  “Doctor Devi’s autopsy will show that our late Lord Governor died of a cerebrovascular accident—a stroke.” Sheel reached up to Cheprin’s horrified, vacant eyes and gently closed them. “It was a means to an end. He was just a pathetically narcissistic man with misguided loyalties. We needed him out of the way, but I take no great joy in his death,” said Sheel.

  “I do,” said Naar.

  “Yes, my dear. I’m sure you do.”

  “Hey, you weren’t the one sleeping with him for the last six months,” Naar said bitterly as they walked to the front of the desk. “He was so ordinary in bed.”

  “Spare me the details,” Sheel countered as he gazed upon the dead Cheprin, whose strawberry blond hair looked as if it had been combed for the occasion. “I’m sure he would be pleased with how handsome a corpse he makes.” The new colony leader moved to pour himself a small glass of wine.

  “So now that you’re Lord Governor, does that make me Deputy Governor?”

  “I think not. It’s best if you continue as the Lord Governor’s aide—my aide. I will appoint Goran as the new Deputy Governor. He’s a hard worker and a capable administrator and I’m sure he will do nicely. Our bigger problem may be this Fleetmaster Haldryn. We’ll just have to take the measure of the man and see how it goes with him.”

  Sheel drained his glass and then wiped it with a handkerchief before pressing it into Cheprin’s hand. As he handed Cheprin’s original glass to Naar, he embraced her. “Take that glass back to your apartment and wash it up, then break it on the floor as though you’ve dropped it. Let the maid throw it in the trash tomorrow.” He gave her a lustful look and grabbed the back of her hair, pulling on it until she let out a whimper.

  “You
’re hurting me,” she said in a distressed voice.

  He peered into her face and saw her pain. “I know. You enjoy it” he replied, pulling her head back further and kissing her hard on the neck, then on the lips. She responded passionately, pressing her body against his. “Better go now before Goran gets back,” he said as he released his grip, pushing her away hard enough to make her stagger.

  She steadied herself and moved to the office door. Turning back to Sheel, Naar wore a wicked grin. “You know, everyone thinks you’re so timid,” she purred. “It excites me to know different.” Even in the midst of an assassination, Naar felt compelled to flirt. Of course, it was unnecessary, as the two of them had been lovers for over a year now.

  After she exited the room, Sheel looked around to see that things were just so. When he was satisfied, he opened the office door. A boyish-faced thug, one of the security guards in Sheel’s pocket, was standing watch in the foyer. “Tharp,” beckoned Sheel, “I want you to summon Administrator Goran immediately. There’s been a terrible tragedy.”

  8: Mirror

  Near Planet Venus

  Two standard days later

  A brilliant burst of light announced the arrival of Kite as it concluded its twenty-six standard day journey from Rusalka to the Sol system. The ship’s flight program had been executed perfectly and it was now situated nearly 260,000 kilometers from the planet. However, the planet was not Earth. Despite the fact that Kite was stealthy, popping into existence near Earth amidst a host of likely hostile warships was a sure way to make the visit a brief one. Sanchez had programmed the ship to exit hyperspace behind the planet Venus, where they could wake from hypersleep, collect themselves, then begin an ion drive journey to Earth.

  Frank Carr was awakened by a series of injections and the rising temperature inside his coffin. As the hypersleep chamber slid from the wall, he heard a gentle female voice say, “Good morning, Captain Carr. I trust you slept well.” Initially he thought it was Sanchez, but it turned out to be the ship’s computer using verbal niceties to stir him.

  The first thing Etta Sanchez said to him was “Hey, you look like hell.” Carr swung his legs to the floor and stood, wobbly at first. “It’s all right, I looked like hell too an hour ago. Take it slow for the first few minutes,” she advised. Sanchez had arisen earlier to do ‘pilot stuff,’ checking the ship to make sure all was well after its eleven light-year jaunt. She was wearing tan coveralls, which got Carr wondering for a second if his memory of her semi-nude body just before hypersleep had actually been a dream.

  He hit the head to relieve himself and get cleaned up. Shaving his face, he thought about leaving the stubble that had grown on top of his head but decided to remove it too. Afterward, he made his way to the co-pilot’s chair and wolfed down one of the CRPs, combat ration packets, thoughtfully provided for the journey by the Union Marines. It was his first meal in twenty-six days. Sanchez was finishing her ship checks having already eaten, as evidenced by an empty CRP carton at her side. Wheat cereal wedges, taffberries, and an apple slice for breakfast wasn’t half-bad, but none of the CRPs contained the one thing Sanchez craved.

  “Man, I wish I had a cup of coffee right about now,” she said in a desperate tone.

  “So, how’s the old girl looking?” asked Carr.

  “Assuming you’re asking about the ship and not her pilot, Kite is looking very fine. And, she’s not an old girl, she’s a hot young chick and she’s ready to party. There’s no activity in the neighborhood. I was afraid they might seed this region with sensor pods, but nothing’s showing up. I suggest you use part of the travel time to Earth to work on some pilot sims, just in case you need to fly this thing.”

  “Will do. However, for the record, I’ve already put in some sim hours back on Sarissa.”

  Sanchez shot him a surprised look. “Really? And here I thought you were just flying through all of this by the seat of your pants.”

  “I read the briefing tabs and everything. I may be somewhat cavalier, and maybe a bit bad-tempered, but I’m not entirely unprofessional.”

  Sanchez groaned, rolling her eyes. “Oh, Gods, I should have stayed on the coffee plantation,” she laughed.

  On the four-hour trip to the Earth, Carr worked through some piloting sims as promised, ran several low-level sensor sweeps of the system and actually dozed for thirty minutes or so. He didn’t understand why he would be sleepy after hibernating for almost a month, but afterward he felt refreshed. For most of the journey, Sanchez allowed the computer to fly the ship. To Carr’s amusement, she looked over the equipment again—that’s got to be the third or fourth time she’s checked the same stuff—found a small area of the cabin to do some stretching exercises, and ate another CRP, this time Rusalkan shark steak and a zavaleaf salad. The two of them talked, mostly about the mission, but occasionally the conversation strayed off topic. They seemed to be more at ease with each other now. Perhaps the confrontation back at Camp Caspeta had been a turning point in their relationship. At the first mention of family however, Carr quickly steered the discussion elsewhere. Once was all it took and Sanchez didn’t bring it up again.

  “Attention: entering area of active sensor engagement. Counter-measures ongoing and evidence suggests counter-measures are successful at this time.” It was the computer’s way of saying “we’re here.”

  “Thanks, Ship. Initiate passive scanning program Earthview-Zero-Zero-One.” Sanchez took control of the helm as they crept into what had to be considered hostile space about a half-million kilometers from the Earth. Kite wasn’t actually invisible, but the chances of someone eyeballing the ship were so small, it might as well have been. Just in case, she would keep a healthy distance from the numerous vessels and other objects flying about.

  Kite’s computer tracked thirty-two objects that it identified as spaceships in the vicinity of Earth. Some looked like transports of various sizes, but many were almost certainly warships. There were numerous satellites in orbit as well, several of them receiving particular attention from Sanchez.

  “That’s how they were able to keep all of this a secret. These sats are emitting some sort of sensor haze that’s masking what’s actually here. You have to be close to the planet to read any of this. If we were, say ten million kilometers away, we wouldn’t know this stuff was here.” Sanchez was impressed and it showed in her voice.

  Carr squirmed in his seat. “So, any indication they know we’re poking about?”

  “None. Either they know we’re here and are playing it very cool, or our stealth is better than their anti-stealth. Let’s move a little closer, shall we?”

  The Lieutenant Commander nudged her ship forward, taking care to stay away from the main body of spaceships moving to and fro. Most of the ships were shaped vaguely like crescent moons, the convex portion of the crescent being the front of the ship, with the pointy sections dragging behind. Several big objects caught their eye and the interest of Kite’s computer.

  “Look at this,” said Carr, simultaneously caught up in the fascination of the moment but still diligently manning his station. “The computer has tentatively ID’d this large object as a small shipyard and this big one as either a space station or orbital habitat.” A low whistle came from Carr’s lips. “This is quite an operation.”

  “Whoa! Carr, check out what’s behind your space station.”

  As Kite crept through space, moving slowly to attract minimal attention, an enormous spacecraft revealed itself on the other side of the large station. Almost as big as the station itself, the goliath was not a crescent silhouette, but shaped something like a gigantic manta ray, well over four-hundred meters across. Shuttlecraft were coming and going from hanger bays located directly in the center of the beast’s belly. Needle-like spires stuck out across the surface of the great ship. Carr didn’t know what they were, but they looked nasty.

  “Sanchez, that could be a problem.”

  After another hour or so of drifting around and collecting soft sensory data,
Sanchez nudged Kite away from the community of ships and orbital facilities. They were heading around Earth for a position over the continent of Europe and the site of the known colony.

  “Co-pilot, take the controls,” she said as she stood from her seat.

  Carr’s face flushed as he complied with her instructions. “What the hell! Got someplace better to be?”

  “Right now? Yeah, the head,” she laughed. “Just hold her steady for a few minutes.”

  Actually, Carr was aching to give it a go. He had piloted shuttlecraft before, but never a ship like the stealth scout. The controls were responsive and smooth, and the hours he’d put in on the simulator turned out to be time well spent. Just when he was feeling relaxed, a low-toned alert went off and the computer highlighted something off the horizon.

  “If you liked that big-assed battleship, you’re going to love this,” he said as Sanchez slid back into her seat.

  “What is it?”

  “I have no idea, but it’s huge.” The object hung about 1.5 million kilometers from Earth. Kite’s computer showed it to be enormous, but was having trouble trying to render a visual representation to show the human crew.

  Sanchez scanned over her instruments. “Whatever our new treasure is, it’s positioned at Lagrange Point Two. That’s a bit of a hike out and back, but we definitely have to check it out. Listen, I have a recommendation. Let’s call it a day, park, and get a few hours rest before we pursue this. We can add it to tomorrow’s work schedule.”

  “Agreed,” Carr responded. Even though he knew the adrenaline pumping through him could keep him going for hours, his mind told him her notion was sound. Kite headed for their planned ‘parking place’—the dark side of the Moon.