STAR'S HONOR (THE STAR SCOUT SAGA Book 3)

by GARY DARBY

  “I want their language decoded. I don’t care how you do it, but I want to know everything they know.”

  He whirled back to the diminutive woman, his eyes almost glowing within his hood. “Don’t make me wait,” he murmured menacingly, “or I will get someone else who can do the job for me. Do you understand?”

  The woman gasped, and she stepped back from Peller, a hand flying to her mouth. Her already pale skin seemed to become almost ghost-white. Wide-eyed, she nodded hard several times in response.

  “Good,” Peller stated. “See that you remember.”

  He turned again to his hard-faced killer and demanded, “Where is the device?”

  “Over here,” the man replied.

  With quick steps, he led Peller through a connecting tunnel into a domed, well-lit room. Inside were several individuals working within a maze of tables that appeared to be a fully functioning, though small, laboratory.

  Sitting on several waist-high tables to one side were flasks and beakers, centrifuges, and porta-compus. Nearby, on long workbenches were diagnostic and testing equipment, along with an assortment of small machinist-type electro-drills and presses.

  Sitting in the room’s middle on a long gleaming metal table was a triangular device. In an instant, Peller’s eyes were riveted on the apparatus. With quick steps, he strode over to stand next to the table and peer with an intense expression at the mechanism.

  He glanced to one side and saw a small silvery blue sphere. Peller’s eyes grew wide when he spotted the featureless globe.

  That he recognized!

  A duplicate of this very orb rested in his secret hideaway on Earth. His hand quivered as he reached out to the metallic ball.

  “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” a firm voice said from behind.

  Peller snapped his head up at the intrusion. Behind him, his assassin leader said, “This is Professor Weltz, the research team’s chief scientist.”

  Peller gave the tall, plain-looking woman a curt nod, and then said, “Tell me what you have learned.”

  She dropped her hands into the pockets of her short lab coat and walked closer to the table. “I can tell you that it’s an unknown meta-material. We’re having some difficulty in breaking down its elemental composition because it’s very resistant to our metal analysis techniques.

  “But whatever it’s made of, it’s definitely not of Imperium origin.”

  She walked around the table and pointed at the deep indentation in the disc. “The orb’s diameter perfectly matches this groove. Apparently, you fit the sphere into the depression.”

  Gesturing toward the device, she went on. “On each side there is a pattern of three shallow notches. Below each is a small dimple, again, a set of three that are centered exactly in each panel.”

  She nodded toward the small orb. “It too has a pattern of tiny grooves that matches one of the sides. That the sphere’s pattern corresponds to a particular side suggests that’s the device’s control side.

  Peller waved an impatient hand. “But do you know what it does, how it works?” he demanded.

  “Not yet,” Weltz replied. “We’re dealing with alien technology here so we’re taking it slow.”

  “No!” Peller bellowed. “You must go faster. I want to know what this device does!”

  Unlike the female linguist, Weltz didn’t flinch or cower before Peller. Her unruffled demeanor was in marked contrast to her flighty contemporary in the next room.

  Coolly, she met Peller’s fierce gaze and said, “I would like nothing more than to be able to tell you what it does, but there are three excellent reasons why we’re not rushing this.

  “First, we humans have built fail-safe devices in certain critical and sensitive pieces of our own technology, such as n-bombs, whereby someone starts fooling around with them, they get a very nasty and unpleasant surprise.

  “I have no doubt that these aliens are every bit as smart as we, perhaps more so, and have the capability to do the same with their technology. I, for one, don’t like nasty surprises.

  “Two, there are nine dimples on the device. Three sets of three, one set on each side. One set on the sphere. Since they’re in sets of three that seems to indicate that you have to use at least one key from each set to turn on the machine.

  “But, in what order? Which set is first, second, or third? Which key in each set do you push first, second, or third, and so on? That’s a lot of permutations. Not unsolvable and we already have a computer program working on the sequencing.

  “However, what if this device is tuned strictly to recognize the molecular pattern of its owner, or species? Even if we get the precise order down, it still might not work for that very reason.”

  Pausing, she took a breath, let it out, and said, “And third, and the most important reason to go very slow—what if this is a weapon of some sort?

  “If we push the wrong thing, or aren’t careful in our experimentations, for all I know we could end up vaporizing a good chunk of this lovely planet, including ourselves.”

  She shook her head in a firm manner. “So, no, I haven’t gotten old by rushing into things that I know nothing about. We will proceed in a methodical, logical process until we reach some reasonable conclusions on just what it is we’re dealing with.”

  Peller ground out through clenched teeth, “I’m paying you and your team a great deal of money for answers, not excuses.”

  “Yes, you are,” the woman casually replied. “And we’ll get you your answers, but I want to be around to spend my money.”

  The woman stared unblinking at Peller. Peller could tell by her stern, tight expression that she was going to stand her ground. Also, Peller knew she was top-notch in her field. If anyone could determine the device’s purpose, she could.

  He also knew that he wouldn’t be able to bully her as he did her weak associate in the other room.

  Peller’s voice was raspy and tight as he said, “Then do what you must but I want you and your team working on this around the clock.”

  He spun away, his robes billowing out almost like a small sail. Over his shoulder, he said to his assassin, “Walk with me.”

  In low tones he muttered, “Be prepared to move the XTs. I don’t want the aliens and that device in the same place. Too easy to lose both if there is an attack. I’ll let you know in a day or so.”

  His countenance grew rigid, and he lowered his voice even more. “You’re in charge here, keep on them. I want answers, and soon. If either of them can’t produce what I want—you know what to do.”

  The assassin didn’t blink at the harsh edict, he’d heard it many times before and had always obeyed without giving it a second thought. He gave a curt nod in reply, his lips compressed into a thin line at Peller’s order.

  Their quick strides brought them once again into the room that held the aliens. Peller stopped to peer at the extraterrestrials. To himself he murmured, “I’ll be seeing you three in a few days, and when I do, we’re going to have the most interesting discussion.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Star date: 2443.083

  Nearing the Gas Giant Planet

  Turning at the sound of heavy footsteps behind him, Dason peered up at the tall Sha’anay who ducked his head into the pilot pod. El’am pointed a furred finger at the hologram floating above the pilot’s console. “We near the moon?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Dason replied, “We’re getting close.”

  He sat back, his eyes studying the holographic image. “I’ve been thinking that it might not be a good idea to make a straight-in approach. Those that took Tor’al headed for this moon for a reason, and I suspect it’s because they have a base there.”

  “A fortified base?” El’am questioned.

  “Could be,” Dason acknowledged. “I’m not sure what weapons they might have, but if they’ve emplaced space or land-based energy weapons, I’m afraid that the Zephyr is no match for them. We’d probably get blasted out of the sky before we even had a cha
nce to land.”

  “So you think that we must find another, less open approach?”

  “Yes,” Dason returned. “I’m not sure how ‘less open’ it is, but it’s the best we can do under the circumstances. Here, let me show you.”

  He caused the holographic image to change so that it zoomed in on the circle of ice and rock that ringed the gaseous planet.

  “This particular moon has a very fast rotational period around the gas planet. As it orbits, its gravity well tugs at the rings, causing them to curve out almost like a tongue wagging at the moon.”

  Motioning toward the image, he explained, “It’s like a never-ending swell through the ring belt as the moon glides along in its orbit. And some of those rock fragments are pretty big so we—”

  “Could use them to camouflage ourselves and ride this swell close to the planet before we have to reveal ourselves, yes?” El’am said.

  “Yes,” Dason answered, “that’s the general idea.”

  He scratched at his cheek while he contemplated the orbital maneuver needed in order not to look like anything more than another rock in the fragment flow.

  “Once we’re inside the rings, we ease our way outward before we use the swell to hide our approach to the moon. On the other hand, if we do a fast transit through the rings—”

  “They may see that one ‘rock’ moves faster than the others,” El’am said, “thereby arousing suspicion.”

  Dason nodded in response and said, “Precisely.”

  El’am didn’t answer right away but stood contemplating Dason’s words. “Perhaps,” he began, “we give them credit for more capabilities than they have. Are you sure that they would scan the rings rather than open space?”

  Dason shrugged in response. “I don’t know,” he replied frankly. “If I thought we had the time, I would say that we should opt for the first choice, but I don’t think time is on our side.”

  El’am nodded and said, “That is how I feel as well. Let us choose the faster way, and hope that they consider us an errant fragment of rock that is wandering out of its standard orbit.”

  Dason gave El’am a crooked smile. “Uh huh, an errant rock that is going to have to do some pretty tight flying so that we don’t collide with the non-errant rocks.”

  “How soon until we enter the ring?”

  “A few more hours,” Dason said. Glancing up at the big alien, he asked, “By the way, how are the wounds doing?”

  “I grow well,” El’am replied. “Apparently I am not to die from the devil dog’s fangs or your medicines.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Dason replied. “Ready for another lesson?”

  “Yes,” El’am replied and tilted his head to Dason. “Are you?”

  “Absolutely,” Dason readily answered.

  El’am somehow managed to squeeze his bulky frame into the copilot’s chair. Over the past several days, Dason had taught El’am how to fly and navigate the Zephyr, while El’am had cultivated Dason’s knowledge of Sha’anay history, customs, and culture.

  A little over four hours later with the rock cloud was coming up fast, Dason muttered, “Okay, it’s time to make like a big rock and see if we can sneak up on them.”

  He let his eyes rove over the massive planet that framed their whole port side. As if some titanic giant had swiped a finger through the enormous ocean of orange gas, great swirls of blacks and browns fractured the otherwise placid lake of colors that marked the planet’s gaseous exterior.

  However, Dason knew that those gigantic eddies represented colossal storms that would make even the greatest of typhoons on Earth look like a gentle breeze on a summer day.

  Turning his gaze from the mesmerizing gas planet, he reached for the pilot controls to slow their speed and at the same time began side-slipping the craft into the fragmented mass.

  “I’m not going to take us in very deep,” he remarked to El’am. “We can avoid the significant stuff easy enough, but it’s the little pieces that worry me, they may be small but they can make big holes if we get hit.”

  With nimble maneuvers, Dason flew the hurtling Zephyr in and around the asteroid-sized rocks. He kept his eyes glued to the forward-looking 3-D moving-target indicator, using the sophisticated radar to find a clear path through the tumbling mass.

  The deeper they went, the denser the rocky mass became until the jagged rocks were streaming past the craft on each side.

  Dason barrel-rolled the craft to squeeze between two mountainous asteroids, and then wrenched the ship to one side to miss by a few meters a house-sized rock that appeared out of nowhere on the giant boulder’s backside.

  El’am raised a hand to gesture outward. “The moon,” he said.

  Daring to take a quick peek at the green and tan sphere, Dason acknowledged with a quick, “Yes, and there’s the tidal swell.”

  The radar showed a distinct bulge in the asteroid belt that pointed toward their goal. Dason continued to maneuver the little craft through the fragments until he had them aligned with the bulge’s base.

  “Okay,” he said to El’am, “here we go. Ready to lock and load on the weapons?”

  “If you mean are the cannon and missiles ready to fire, yes.”

  Dason smiled to himself at El’am’s response. He added a bit more power to the main engine and sent the craft straight through the bulge’s center.

  The cloud of rock fragments began to dissipate and Dason had to do very little avoidance maneuvering. Within minutes, the small ship shot through the last of the rocks and into clear space.

  Dason increased the engine power to full thrust and headed straight for the planet-sized moon. He whirled the Zephyr through a series of side-winding maneuvers that would have done credit to any Terran bat on a feeding frenzy in the middle of a swarm of mosquitoes.

  As the little ship danced through open space, Dason couldn’t help but notice that El’am poised one hand over the weapon controls while the other held tight to the chair’s armrest.

  He couldn’t tell through the fur that covered the Sha’anay’s paws, but he suspected that El’am’s knuckles were as white as his own.

  Racing toward the moon-planet, Dason began to make out distinct features on the orb. Large formations of dark, chunky clouds clustered together, indicating that the moon had storms of some magnitude.

  Across the planet’s upper portion were long streaks of a light purple that well could be large lakes or small seas. Interspersed among irregularly shaped patches of dark tan were large swaths of a drab, olive green, indicating dense vegetation.

  With the planet looming big and full, Dason stopped the ship’s jitterbugging and brought it into level, stable flight. From the corner of his mouth, he said to El’am, “You can let go of the seat now. If they had space-based weapon platforms, they would have fired on us by now.”

  El’am grunted and eased back in the seat while Dason entered several directives into the pilot console and said, “Inputting landing coordinates.”

  The Gadion’s dead ship had given them only an approximate area of the Faction’s base location, but it was such that they had to search only a small expanse instead of the whole planet.

  The little ship darted through the planet’s upper atmosphere and began a long, swooping arc. On purpose, Dason piloted the Zephyr to a point some hundred kilometers away from their landing area before making his turn toward the supposed Faction encampment.

  His plan was to hug the terrain, thereby offering as small a target as possible and land out of sight so that hopefully, the Faction wouldn’t suspect their presence.

  As the Zephyr flashed mere meters off the ground, Dason could tell that while this moon’s foliage was lush, it didn’t have the Alpha Prime planet’s giant trees.

  Instead, short, stocky, stunted-looking stalks rose from the ground while large bushes resembling oversized sagebrush almost hid the landscape.

  Seeing that they were nearing their landing spot, Dason said, “We’re about two minutes out.”

&nbs
p; El’am rose from his seat and made his way toward the craft’s aft section. Moments later, he ambled forward, his sword scabbards in place and an L-gun, in place of his usual ta-gun, in his side holster.

  He laid Dason’s torso vest, along with extra charge clips and an L-gun on the passenger seat closest to the pilot pod.

  Dason slowed the ship down until it glided through the air just above a large grove of palmlike trees whose turquoise-tinted boxy leaves swayed as the Zephyr passed overhead.

  Finding a small clearing just wide enough for the Zephyr, he eased the craft to the ground. Once the ship was firmly settled on its landing pods, Dason quickly scanned the environmental readouts. “A little less oxygen and nitrogen than Terra, but close enough.”

  He frowned while he read a secondary display. “But a much higher radiation count.”

  Glancing up at the sky-filling gas giant overhead, he muttered. “And that most likely would be thanks to you, big fella. But since we don’t intend to stay long, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Rising from his seat, he quickly donned his torso vest, slid the L-gun in his holster, and cinched down his knife scabbards.

  Dason picked up the sensator device and tucked it inside a side pocket. He noticed El’am watching him and said, “I’m not sure why I’m taking this, but I have the feeling that we might need it.”

  El’am nodded in reply. “It is well not to ignore such feelings. Sometimes the mind’s eye sees things that our physical eyes do not.”

  “I agree,” Dason answered.

  He switched on his comms and pointed to a shaved area on El’am’s cheek. Centered in the middle was a cheek mike. “Your mike is in place, how about your earpieces?”

  El’am stuck a finger in one ear and growled, “They are very loose. I am not sure they will stay in place.”

  “Well,” Dason replied in a dry tone, “we could always glue them in.”

  El’am bent down and stared at Dason. “Let us first glue yours in, human Dason,” he offered

  Dason held up a hand in response and smiled. “Hey, it was only a suggestion.”

  His expression grew serious, and he said, “Ready to go?”