by GARY DARBY
STAR’S HONOR
by
Gary J. Darby
Book Three
In the Star Scout Saga
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter One
Star date: 2443.064
The Alpha Prime Planet, the Helix Nebula
Tor’al’s roar reverberated in the ravine like rolling thunder across a vast savannah. Like a crazed wild animal, he charged into the mass of snarling wolflike beasts knowing that if he must die, his enemy would pay dearly for his life.
Flashing like flaming firebrands in the setting sun’s dying rays, his short swords were a whirl of constant motion, thrusting, stabbing, and slashing in a never-ending attack on his bestial enemies.
Tor’al’s one desire was to kill as many Mongan devil dogs as he could before they brought him down in turn. Knowing he would die under their fangs, Tor’al vowed he would die as he lived, a proud and honorable warrior of the Sha’anay.
The ferociousness of his onslaught slowed the vicious canines’ assault and for an instant, they milled around in confusion. He wheeled to the human who stood nearby, his expression one of surprise and hesitation at what Tor’al had done.
But he would understand in a moment.
Tor’al shouted in Sha’anay, “Go! Now! Remember Tor’al of the Sha’anay and forget not what I have said, human Dason Thorne, my new friend.”
With that, he raised his sword in salute, pivoted on one foot, and leaped again at the canine creatures. He brought one sword down in a flashing stroke across the nearest creature’s lean but muscled back.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the human raise his long knife in a return salute and then dart through a large clump of yellow bushes. The brush swayed back and forth and then the human Dason disappeared.
Tor’al gained some comfort in the fact that he had done what he could to help the human escape, though he knew that the young one faced an all but hopeless task to save himself.
Still, if one drew breath, if one had the will, there was always hope. Twisting and lunging, be brought first one sword down on devil dog, before he swung around and stabbed at another.
His swords fairly sang as they swished through the air.
It was a song of death that Tor’al had heard before but now he understood that it was being sung for him. He accepted its melody as he was satisfied that his long life had been good and with honor.
Though Ma’ala was no longer with him, he had seen their children and their children’s children grow into strong, faithful Sha’anay. They had brought such goodness into his life and he was full of gratitude for the choice persons they were.
His one regret was not seeing a final end to the soulless ones who had destroyed the Sha’anay home worlds two-thousand years ago.
If he could have asked for any legacy, he would have had the Elders say that it was Tor’al, Elder of the Sha’anay, of the House of Tor’al and holder of the Seventh Sword who had killed the last living Mongan.
Putting to an end to their horrific race that had destroyed so many star civilizations throughout the galaxy.
He sprang to one side to avoid the rush of several of the snarling beasts, dipping low with his two swords and leaving behind two dogs whose spines were slashed in half.
Tor’al shuffled in a tight circle, his swords outstretched before him, their finely sharpened points glittering like tiny emeralds of light. A sudden thought came to him that he’d not considered before, a way perhaps out of this death trap.
In a flurry of slashes and lunges, he drove the growling pack back for a moment. He stopped and slowly circled, looking for the alpha canine in the group.
His head snapped right and left, searching for the one snarling beast who would lead the inevitable final charge that would bring him down.
If he could find that one particular beast and his stroke was pure and straight, the loss of the pack leader might just give him the opening he needed to break out of the ring of death. He had seen it before in other places, in other gruesome battles with these devils masked as wolf dogs.
He pivoted, eyeing each animal while the things tightened the circle. He stopped to stare with intense, narrowed eyes at one tawny animal, slightly larger than the rest, whose eyes never left Tor’al.
More telling, the beast’s head and tail were held higher than its mates’, a sign of supremacy among canine pack animals.
Tor’al nodded to himself. There! That is the leader!
The Sha’anay warrior tightened his grip on his swords. His thrust would have to be lightning fast, his aim sure and lethal; there would be no second chance at bringing down the snarling beast.
He gathered himself and was about to launch himself at the creature when the pack whirled to point their snouts in the direction where the human had run.
For an instant, Tor’al held one sword high in the air, listening to the sounds coming from the wooded hillside. An energy weapon fired several times and for an instant his hopes rose high before they were dashed low as he recognized the sound.
It was not the distinctive ta-ruuum of a Sha’anay ta-gun that he heard. It had to be from a human’s energy weapon instead. He smiled in grim satisfaction.
Perhaps, just perhaps, the human Dason had found an ally against their common enemy after all, and together they would hold off the frenzied beasts. If so, then his strategy would have worked and the human Dason would have the chance to warn his people against the imminent Mongan threat.
Tor’al’s hesitation turned to action and with a slashing stroke he brought his sword down on his target. There was a meaty thunk! As Tor’als’ swords bit deep into the brute’s torso.
It tried to spring to one side but Tor’al held it fast, pushing his swords even deeper into the thing. With a ripping, twisting motion he yanked his blades out.
The devil dog staggered away for two steps, its death rattle sounding loud in the small gorge before it slumped, dead, to the ground.
The other beasts stood motionless for a moment before in a frenzied yapping, they scattered in several directions, confused at the sudden, and unexpected death of their leader.
Spurred by his sudden good fortune, Tor’al bounded through a narrow gap in the pack, swinging his swords at two devil dogs who were slow to confront him. Not wishing to give the animals even a second to recover from his ferocious attack, Tor’al pounded down the wide ravine.
His boots crunched on the hard gravel, scattering rocks and pebbles in his wake. On the run, he managed to slide both swords into his scabbards, and pumped his arms to gain more speed.
Sharp yelping behind him signaled that the pack had recovered from their momentary lapse and now gave chase.
For the briefest of moments Tor’al considered trying to make his way t
oward the humans, but that way was not only uphill, it would take him into open country where he would have to face the killer pack without the saving grace of a boulder or tree at his back.
He glanced to his left at the somewhat flat, but tree-dotted terrain. The level ground would give him the greatest chance of speed, and the trees might even provide an opportunity for cover.
Alas, none of these trees was large enough to support his great frame and weight so climbing a tree to escape the dogs was not an option.
Planting his foot, he cut to one side and headed toward a stand of what appeared to be tall, almost bamboo-like slender stalks that shot up toward the sky.
The dusky light was giving way to a dim twilight that heralded the coming darkness of night. While he ran, he tried his wrist communicator to contact any Sha’anay warrior who might be nearby, but as before, there was no response.
Though he had a sizeable lead over the animals, Tor’al knew he could never outrun the enraged beasts, and it was only a matter of time before they ran him down and cornered him again. If that was to be his fate, then his single goal was to find an advantageous place to stand and fight.
Picking his way through the bamboo grove and once through to the other side, he burst into a sprint. He had taken but a few steps when his foot caught on a root, and he went sprawling face first into the ground.
Pushing himself up from the broken ground, he started to dart ahead but stopped cold in his tracks. He peered ahead, trying to decide what was wrong with what he was seeing.
There was nothing but darkness, no trees, no bushes, no . . . Ground!
He sucked in a breath when he realized he stood at the very edge of a precipice. If the fortuitous root had not sent him flying to the ground, he would have stepped straight out into empty space and fallen to his death.
Taking several cautious steps forward, he peered over the white-stoned cliff’s sharp ledge and his eyes widened at what he saw in the deepening twilight.
Like a field of puffball mushrooms, the canopy tops of a thick grove of trees reached upward several of his body lengths below the edge. With no wind to sway their thick limbs, the forest appeared as a solid, dark carpet beneath the ledge.
Tor’al glanced to his left and right. The cliff extended in both directions with no break and no easy way down. For just a second, Tor’al hesitated and then reached into his mid waist pack and brought out a tiny finger light.
He leaned out to shine the miniature spotlight on the cliff’s face, trying to determine if there were sufficient hand- and footholds to justify a climbing attempt down to the gorge’s floor.
After several fruitless seconds of scanning, Tor’al turned off the light. The chalky white facing was too smooth, too lacking in cracks or fissures, or jutting pieces to try and make an effort here.
One slip and he would slide down the wall to crash into the jumbled mass of rocks below and to his inevitable death.
Which way? He thought, left or right? Moreover, would either provide a path down or was he caught between the abyss and the hunting pack that even now closed on him?
He turned and had only an instant of warning before the snarling brown body hit him chest-high.
Tor’al and the dog plummeted headlong through the air, with nothing to stop them but the looming tree canopy below. Tor’al smashed through the first small branches, the reedy limbs ripping at his furred face, leaving bloody stripes across his cheeks and chin.
For just for a moment, Tor’al was able to grab one thin branch, the leaves and tiny twigs snapping off as they slid through his big paw. In desperation, Tor’al gripped the limb, the branch straining ever downward under his weight.
His downward plunge slowed enough that Tor’al kicked one leg out to try and reach a thicker branch. With a crack! The life-saving limb that held him snapped under his weight.
Down he went again, unbending limbs and knifelike leaves ripping at his bloodied face and body. He slammed into the thick, rough trunk, tumbling out of control through leaf and branch.
In desperation, he reached out to grab a handhold, any handhold, to stop his spinning dive through the branches. His pawlike hands clawed at branches as they flashed by, but each time the force of the fall ripped the limb from his grasp.
A last brutal blow from a jutting branch to his head sent waves of darkness through his mind. There was nothing he could do to arrest his fatal fall to the hard, unforgiving earth far below.
His last conscious thought as he fell was that at least he would not die with a devil dog’s fangs ripping out his throat and because of that he was at peace with his final moments.
Chapter Two
Star date: 2443.065
The Alpha Prime Planet, the Helix Nebula
Raising a limp arm, Tor’al tried to ward off the sharp, bright sun rays that tormented his eyes. The light and the pounding in his head were almost unbearable. Nevertheless, it didn’t dampen his amazement that he was alive, and not only was he alive, but voices nearby spoke his tongue!
He tried to rise but someone placed a hand against his chest. “Elder, it would be wise if you continued to lie easy,” a voice said. “Your head looks as though you caught it between the pincer claws of a enormous and hungry Riesha Sea-Beast.”
Tor’al grunted and forced his eyes open. “Well, if that is the case,” he muttered, “then there is no real harm done, is there?”
Someone laughed lightly at his jest and two of his kind appeared in his eye sight. One quickly knelt next to him while the other bent over, both peering at him with concerned expressions.
It took Tor’al a moment before his vision cleared and he recognized the two Sha’anay. “A’kan! Mo’sar!” he said with a forceful breath. “I greet you, clansmen.”
Each warrior raised an open palm to his chest in greeting before A’kan said, “And we to you Elder Tor’al. How are you feeling?”
Tor’al considered the question and replied in a gruff voice, “I am most surprised but grateful to find that I still live. I thought surely that the fall would be my death and the dogs would devour my body.”
The two warriors passed a glance between them before Mo’sar said, “They tried, elder, but those that did will eat no more.”
“Ah,” Tor’al replied, “that is good. No, that is excellent.”
Gazing skyward at the towering tree that shadowed he and his companions, he noticed that there were numerous branches cracked and snapped off from the trunk.
He raised a hand upward and said, “I know not how I survived the fall.”
A’kan glanced upward with raised eyebrows at where Tor’al stared. “It was not your time to die,” he offered. “The branches slowed your fall by bending and snapping with your weight. You must have lost consciousness, and your body was totally limp when you hit.”
He snorted and swept a hand outward. “You landed in a centuries-old pile of decomposed leaves and rotting vegetation, not exactly the softest of landings, but suitable enough so that you did not die on impact.”
A’kan leaned closer to say, “Elder, we examined you the best that we could and it does not appear that you have any broken bones. However, we do not have a portable diagnosticator with us so we cannot tell if you have internal injuries.”
Tor’al considered A’kan’s statement before saying, “Then we will assume that I don’t until evidence appears otherwise. Now, tell me, how did you find me?”
A’kan gave a little tap on Tor’al’s wrist communicator. “It activated, and gave us your location.”
Tor’al grunted and raised his arm to peer at the little device. “Ah, yes,” he murmured. “Small things can sometimes be big life-savers, wouldn’t you say.”
At their nods, he waved a hand at the two. “From the ache in my old bones, it is obvious that I have lain here the night and I take it none of our flyers are working yet, so you could not transport me back to the A’Gesi?”
Hesitating, A’kan replied, “Yes, elder, that is true.”
&nb
sp; Speaking in a growl, he said, “And the hated ones have reappeared in the this planetary system. They have not attacked yet, but Ki’mi Som’al recalled most of our warriors to work on repairs. She is afraid that they will catch us on the ground before we can raise the ship into space.”
“In that she is right,” Tor’al agreed.
A’kan took in a breath and almost in an apologetic tone said, “She could send out only a few small parties to search for you and we were the closest when your locator sounded. We did not move you because of our concern that you might have internal injuries.”
“And,” he said with flared nostrils, “the devil dogs have attacked twice in the night.”
Gesturing toward the nearby cliff wall, he went on, “That protected our backs and made fending off the wolf-hounds and guarding you that much easier, so we stayed here.
His voice was a rumble as he said, “Ki’mi Som’al has said that she will send a flyer as soon as one is working.”
He nodded in satisfaction at the many canine corpses that littered the brown, leaf-covered ground. “You are fortunate that we found you before they did.”
A’kan peered down at Tor’al, lifted one corner of his full mouth saying in a light-hearted tone, “Perhaps in the future we should use you as bait to lure more dogs to their death. You seem to have held a unique interest to them.”
“Indeed,” Tor’al grunted. “Of course, you could have fed me one piece at a time to the dogs. Kept them at bay that way.”
“I think not, elder,” Mo’sar replied with a wide grin. “You are too old and tough. They would have preferred something more young and succulent.”
He peered over his shoulder to say, “Maybe something like the cub. If the fight had gone against us, we could have fed him to the dogs.”
“Cub?” Tor’al grumped. “What cub do you speak of?”
A’kan raised his hand, and gave a short wave to invite a smaller Sha’anay to join them. Tor’al raised himself to a sitting position while a young Sha’anay, who had stood a respectful distance away, loped up.
