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

by GARY DARBY

  “It is our desire that we might speak with your leaders on a matter that we believe to be of great urgency and importance to our two great civilizations, namely to seek an alliance against our common enemy, the Mongans.”

  For several seconds, the Sha’anay didn’t respond. Unlike the Sha’anay on the Alpha Prime planet who wore attire that resembled field uniforms, these three wore great flowing robes of a striking crimson color.

  A full, white collar melded together into a single, wide band that flowed down the middle and length of their garments to end in a thin hemline.

  Twelve emblems, of the same scarlet color as their robes and six to each column, ran lengthwise down the broad snow-colored stripe.

  None of the Sha’anay wore any weapons that the humans could see, and nothing in their manner suggested anything but peaceful intentions.

  The Sha’anay in the middle stepped forward and gave a curt nod. He spoke in Sha’anay for a few moments before he stopped and then began again.

  The three humans heard, “Human Rosberg, I am Elder Kur’al, and this is Ki’mi Am’nol, and Elder Lor’ak. We bid you welcome to the A’Cilles, the flagship of the Sha’anay Nation.

  “We are the designated Caretakers of the People until a new St’ort He’scher is chosen. What you would discuss with us must come before the Korha’pec, the Grand Council of the Great Houses.

  “But, be aware that while we will listen, the Korha’pec will not act until a new leader is chosen.”

  Gesturing toward the IntrepidX, he said, “Your people are to remain on board their ship. I assure you that they will be safe enough.”

  At that, the three Sha’anay removed their halo bands and Kur’al said, “You may remove your sensators. We will understand each other’s speech now. Come, we will take you to the council chambers.”

  Rosberg and his companions handed over their own halos and with that the three Sha’anay turned, leaving the three humans to follow behind the lumbering extraterrestrials.

  “Those sensators are astonishing,” Federov remarked as he rushed along with Rosberg and Tarracas. “What I wouldn’t have given for one of those when I had to learn Tyrellian at the Naval Academy.

  “Why those people had to go and invent their own language instead of sticking with Imperial Common, I’ll never know.

  “Especially when they came up with something that sounds like a mixture of a bullfrog croaking and a hyena laughing.”

  “Language often sets one culture apart from others,” Tarracas murmured. “Gives identity and a feeling of belonging to a particular sect.”

  “In that case,” Federov groused, “the Tyrellians have a definite identity but I wouldn’t call it flattering.”

  With long strides, the three Sha’anay led the trio of humans through the ship until they ushered them into an large, ornate, decorated room.

  On the walls to each side, six magnificent tapestries hung from ceiling to floor, forming an opulent hallway.

  Each fabric seemed to hold a different design, and in front of each full-length drapery sat a high-backed, beautifully carved wooden chair whose delicate engravings were masterpieces of art and design.

  The exotic-looking golden brown wood seemed to glow in the soft light that washed over each chair.

  At the room’s head, three more of the beautiful, carved chairs sat on a raised oval platform. Behind each were similar-looking embroidered cloths that hung from the ceiling but on each of them were the twelve emblems again.

  The center seat was somewhat larger and even more elaborate in design than all the others in the room. The three Sha’anay stepped to the raised dais and turned toward the humans. As they did, a loud chime sounded in the chamber.

  From each side marched out six Sha’anay, each dressed in the same blood-red robes of state, and took their places in front of a chair.

  However, each of their broad, white stripes held but one emblem and it matched the large design found on the tapestry above their chair.

  At some unseen signal, the Sha’anay sat in one motion, and those who had just entered placed sensator halos on their heads.

  “Humans,” Kur’al began, “this is the Korha’pec of the Sha’anay. Those who sit here represent one the Great Houses. Consider it an honor that we allow you to witness this for seldom it is that any but a Sha’anay Elder or Ki’mi find themselves in this place.

  “But word of your race has come to us and since we face a common foe in the evil ones, perhaps it is well that we learn more of each other. So, human Rosberg, speak, what is it that you would have of us?”

  Rosberg took a step forward and gave a slight bow to each side of the room.

  “Thank you,” he began. “Honored leaders of the Sha’anay Great Houses. Already many of my people speak reverently of the courage and tenacity of the mighty Sha’anay warriors. To be among the greatest of you is indeed a privilege of the highest order.

  “Our desire is quite simple, that we might find a way to unite, to battle the Mongans together and remove their threat against your people and mine once and for all.”

  Several Sha’anay grumbled in low tones before one stood and said, “I, To’ran would speak.”

  At a nod from Elder Kur’al, the large alien stepped forward and said, “Human, it is no secret that your first encounter with the hated ones in battle was a disaster.

  “Ki’mi Som’al has reported that she witnessed many of your battle fleet destroyed or damaged, and those that survived scattered like a herd of Gasalle Bucks caught in a wildfire.

  “Why would we ally with a people who are so weak that they cannot even engage and destroy a few Mongan craft, let alone a whole fleet?”

  Rosberg was tight-lipped, willing himself not to retort in anger. He took a deep breath to calm himself before saying, “It is true that our first encounter with the Mongans went terribly.

  “I offer no excuses. We underestimated the Mongans’ strength and ability and they caught us unprepared. It was a hard lesson learned, at a cost not only of many ships, but of many brave warriors among my people.

  “But I can assure you that that will not happen again. Even now, those like myself, who lead our warriors, are working on new strategies and weapons that will enable us to strike back at the Mongans.”

  He turned to face To’ran, his body square to the Sha’anay and his eyes meeting the alien’s without blinking. “We know of how valiant and courageous you have fought the Mongans for decades. We, on the other hand, have only begun, but fight we will, and win we shall.

  “Of that, I have no doubt.”

  To’ran seemed to consider Rosberg’s comments for several seconds before he rumbled low in his chest and said, “A noble sentiment, human Rosberg. Let us hope your actions are as bold as your words.”

  As To’ran turned to sit, Kur’al said, “We have but recently sent Ab’nadi the St’ort He’scher, on his last journey. There is to be a Great Gathering of the Houses to deliberate and elect his successor.”

  Kur’al’s shoulders seemed to sag just a bit while he said, “But first, we must mourn the loss of one of the Korha’pec, Elder Tor’al, of the House of Tor’al. For now, his son To’ran will represent his house in this council until they too, select a new leader.”

  He shook his head and raised a hand toward Rosberg. “Until we settle these matters, there is to be no discussion of an alliance. That is our way; that is our law.”

  Rosberg’s own shoulders sagged just a bit at the news that there could be no further deliberations on his request. “I understand, Elder Kur’al,” Rosberg replied quietly. “We too have our way and our law.”

  He paused and then said, “Would it be permissible to speak in private with my comrades before we end this audience?”

  After Kur’al’s nodded assent, Rosberg and his companions took several steps away from the council. “What do you think, Scoutmaster?” Rosberg whispered. “Is now the time to tell them of Tor’al? I had hoped for a little better circumstances but I don’t se
e that happening.”

  “There is little choice,” Tarracas replied. “They must be told, particularly now that they believe he is dead. To hide the matter would most certainly call into question our honesty and our fidelity to any alliance that we might establish in the future.”

  He remained mute as if studying out the matter in his mind before saying, “They seem to hold much stead in law and their sense of loyalty to each other, so when you speak, I suggest that you center your comments on those themes.”

  Rosberg eyed Federov. “Captain? Your thoughts?”

  “I agree with Scoutmaster Tarracas,” Federov murmured. “If we enter into negotiations and they find out later that we were hiding something of such importance to them, it would damage our credibility.

  “Under the circumstances, they might even choose to never meet with or talk to us ever again. Not to mention that it seems that we need them more than they need us.”

  He hesitated and then said, “But I would also say to be prepared for quite an uproar once you deliver the bad news.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree,” Rosberg answered. “And something tells me that we would have an easier time riding Halley’s Comet than what they’re going to throw at us in the next few minutes.”

  The three returned to their places and Rosberg again took a step forward to begin speaking in a respectful but firm voice.

  “Honored members of the Korha’pec, among our people, there are many who obey and sustain our shared laws and take great pride in our unique cultures under those laws.

  “To know that we stand among a people who value similar ideals tells me that we have much in common.

  “Also among my kind, we have individuals who obey additional laws. My companion, Tarracas, and I are two of those who adhere to a code called the Scout Oath.

  “Among the precepts of our oath is that we will always strive to be morally just with all people and that wherever we go, we will endeavor to be honorable in our actions and decisions, and that our words are truthful and more so followed by deeds that match the loftiness of our words.

  “However, not all humans obey even our universal laws. They are criminals. Their lives are cold and heartless. They have no sense of honor, or of loyalty other than to their own pathetic lives.

  “In many respects they are like our mutual foe, the Mongans. Those who wantonly kill without a moral justification or seem to be totally oblivious to the decimation and destruction that they have wrought upon whole star systems.

  “My people reject these criminals who live among us outright and wherever and whenever we can, we bring them to justice and remove them from our society so that they might not be a cancer upon the whole body.”

  Rosberg glanced over at Tarracas and took a deep breath. “Just before we encountered you, I received a message concerning Elder Tor’al.”

  The room became silent, the complete quiet broken only by the Sha’anay’s raspy breathing. Out of the corner of his eye, Rosberg could see Tor’an lean forward in his chair, his face set, his eyes like stone.

  “Elder Tor’al is not dead,” Rosberg started in an even, frank voice. “He is being held captive by the Faction, a monstrous group of criminals who are to us as evil as the Mongans are to you.”

  To’ran’s roar split the air, and he threw back his robes. The drawing of his two short swords was like the hissing of a great snake.

  Springing upward in a giant arcing motion, the enraged Sha’anay brought both swords slicing through the air straight at Rosberg’s open and exposed neck.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Star date: 2443.082

  Aboard the Sha’anay Warship A’Cilles

  Hurdling in front of General Rosberg, Tarracas’s hands flashed upward just as Tor’an’s arms slashed downward. Grabbing the Sha’anay’s wrists in a powerful hold, Tarracas bore the Sha’anay down and then went limp.

  Unable to stop, Tor’an flew over Tarracas to land with a thud on the elaborately tiled floor. Scrambling to his feet, Tor’an’s face was aflame with rage as he charged the much smaller human.

  “Hold, To’ran!” Tarracas commanded in a deep, baritone voice that was so powerful, so riveting, that To’ran faltered just for an instant before the sharp edges of his two swords came to rest against the brown throat of Tarracas.

  Tarracas didn’t move, his eyes never blinking as the combatants stared at each other with piercing gazes, mere centimeters apart.

  “Would you stain the Korha’pec’s honor,” Tarracas demanded, “by shedding innocent blood in this sacred place?

  “Would you shame Tor’al and his great house by killing those who have come unarmed and in peace and friendship?

  “Is this what the father has taught the son or has the son forgot the code of honor that his father lived and breathed?”

  To’ran’s nostrils flared in and out, his breathing so heavy that it seemed to fill the room. Several Sha’anay milled around the humans, their swords drawn, low and threatening mutterings coming from bared teeth.

  A Sha’anay sword sliced upward, striking To’ran’s swords and lifting them up and away from Tarracas. “To’ran! Enough!” Ku’ral grated in a harsh tone as he held Tor’an’s swords aloft.

  “The human speaks truly. This is not the way. If they were guilty of this crime, would they have come so freely?

  “Would they have even mentioned what they know of Tor’al in our presence if they had anything to do with this monstrous wrongdoing?”

  To’ran held his swords high, his eyes never leaving Tarracas, before he brought the blades down and jammed them into his scabbards.

  “Be that as it may, Ku’ral,” To’ran responded in a low growl, “I still say that these humans have much to answer for.”

  “And, I say,” Ku’ral snapped, “that you should bring the news that Tor’al is alive to your house, so that they will cease mourning and rejoice that he lives and may still rejoin them.”

  He raised a hand to the other Sha’anay, who continued to grumble, their cold and hard eyes never leaving the three humans. Kur’al lifted his hand up. “Listen to me!

  “While To’ran speaks to his House, I would offer that the Korha’pec should rest for a small space until To’ran can rejoin us for further discussion.”

  After some discussion among themselves, the assembled Sha’anay muttered assent. The three Caretakers stood on the dais and Kur’al, lifting both hands high, intoned, “I pronounce this session of the Korha’pec closed and the scribe to seal the record until a quorum is called and seated.

  “Such is our way, such is our law.”

  Together, the Korha’pec members repeated the phrase, “Such is our way, such is our law.” One by one the Sha’anay slowly filed out of the chamber, all ignoring the humans, except Tor’an.

  He took several ponderous steps toward the three, growled deeply while drawing his lips back in a snarl and then stalked out of the room.

  Ku’ral and the other two Caretakers stepped off the dais and motioned for Rosberg and his companion to join them. Rumbling low, Kur’al said, “Come, we will talk, but not here. It would be wise if we continued this elsewhere.”

  He whirled away, followed by Am’nol, and Lor’ak, their robes swishing along the floor. As the three humans strode behind, Federov whispered to Tarracas, “How did you know that he wouldn’t kill you with those swords?”

  “I didn’t,” Tarracas declared.

  Both Rosberg and Federov exchanged glances with eyebrows raised high at the Scoutmaster’s response.

  Rosberg leaned over to Tarracas, murmuring, “Just like the old days, eh, Israel? You’re still watching my backside.”

  “And I shall continue to do so, general,” Tarracas returned, “until you learn to take care of it yourself.”

  Chortling, Rosberg answered, “That may take a while.”

  Turning serious, he said, “Thanks Scoutmaster, if you hadn’t jumped in there, I’d probably be a bit shorter than I am now. I admit, Tor’an caught me off-
guard. The reflexes aren’t what they used to be, I guess.”

  “Scoutmaster,” Federov asked, “how did you know Tor’an was Tor’al’s son?”

  “Didn’t know actually,” Tarracas replied. “Suspected it based on their similar sounding names and the way he was agitated from the moment we walked into the room.”

  Ku’ral led them down a long corridor, wide enough for two Sha’anay to walk abreast, and almost twice that number for humans.

  Stopping before a wide metallic-looking door, he waved his hand across a green light that glowed next to the door frame. The hatch opened with a soft swish and the humans followed the Sha’anay into a large room.

  Inside was a plain-appearing compartment with a dozen or more high-backed chairs, each the color of desert sand and arranged in a great oval.

  Ku’ral motioned for Rosberg and the others to sit while he and his two companions removed their robes. Underneath, they wore their warrior uniforms with matching sword scabbards.

  After laying ceremonial garb aside, Ku’ral stared at the three humans through narrowed eyes, before, in a symbolic gesture, he removed his scabbards and placed them on an empty chair.

  Am’nol, and Lor’ak followed suit, though it was evident that neither was comfortable in the act.

  Taking chairs directly across from Rosberg and his companions, the three Sha’anay remained mute until Ku’ral said slowly, “You have brought both ill and good tidings, human Rosberg. It is well to hear that Tor’al still lives but that he has met with such treachery . . .”

  Rosberg spread his hands wide in an apologetic manner. “I’m sorry that we have disrupted your deliberations, it was not our intent to do so. We are just as saddened and upset about Tor’al as you are.”

  Ku’ral shook his head and held up a hand. “For now, you give us no cause not to believe you. You were wise in not withholding the news from us. If we had found out through other means, be assured that we would not be sitting peacefully here.”

  Rosberg shot a quick glance toward Tarracas before saying, “Ku’ral, we seek nothing but peace between our people. What can we do to assure you of this?”