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

by GARY DARBY

  Using her binos, Bianca studied the ground where Dason pointed, before giving several slow nods. “Good eyes, scout,” she said. “You’re right, that one seems to have a lot of recent activity. The wind hasn’t covered the tracks.”

  Dason licked at dry lips and eased up a little higher so that he could see over the sand knoll a bit better. “If I had to pick,” he said, “that one gets my vote for sneaking into.”

  Bianca glanced at Dason with a little smile while saying, “Well, since you have the more recent experience at sneaking, I’ll take your word for it. The question is, how do we get in, it’s not like they’d leave the front door unguarded.”

  Dason lifted a corner of his mouth and pointed. “Easy ma’am, the air intakes on the roof. They might have the doors security wired, I doubt if they’d do the same for their vent ducts.”

  He smiled sideways at Bianca and said, “Not only do I have a little experience at sneaking, but in crawling through overhead ducts, too.”

  Bianca’s laugh stirred up fine dust particles that swirled just above the sandy soil. “So you do. All right, let’s see if your gambit works twice.”

  At a rush, they scrambled across the dusky landscape, weapons drawn.

  Dason skidded to a halt at the corner of the gray metal building and took a bead with his L-gun aimed toward the entrance. If spotted, he assumed that their attackers would come from that direction.

  Bianca slid to a halt with her back to Dason’s; weapon aimed at the adjoining building. After a few seconds, Bianca whispered, “If they have snooper eyes, either they’re not paying attention, or someone’s asleep at the board.”

  “Let’s not find out which,” Dason said and whipped his L-gun into his holster.

  With a little boost from Bianca, Dason leaped up, grabbed the building’s edging and pulled himself up and over.

  He turned and reached down for Bianca’s outstretched hands. A few seconds later, she pulled herself up to the roof.

  Hunched over, to provide a low silhouette against the starlit dunes, they eased their way to the nearest large, fishhook-shaped vent. A fine mesh covered the opening, no doubt to keep out flying dust particles.

  Dason sliced through the skinlike membrane with his blade and peeled it back.

  He pulled out his thin nyclar climbing rope, tied it around the vent’s base, and let out the line down the shaft. He started to grip the aperture’s edges to push his legs into the opening when Bianca grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

  “Naughty, naughty,” she whispered, “ladies first.”

  She reached up with both hands, grabbed the inside of the lid, and heaved herself into the black opening. With both gloved hands fastened on the line, she disappeared down the hole.

  Hesitating for just a second, Dason followed her, and found that between holding onto the rope and bracing his feet and back against the vent’s metal walls, he could lower himself with ease.

  After just a few meters, he heard a faint whisper, “Hold up.”

  Dason locked his knees and braced his back, which kept him in place while he listened. Below him, there was a scratching and then the sound of a knife cutting through cloth.

  Another mesh shield, he thought, she must have found a lateral duct.

  After a few seconds, Bianca whispered, “Duct opening, three meters below. Wait until I get in.”

  Bianca grunted as she pulled herself into the opening and then said, “I’m in.”

  Dason dropped until he fronted the dark, square aperture. Crablike, he crawled in and scooted forward until he touched Bianca’s boot. “Right behind you,” he said.

  In the silence and darkness, the two crept forward on all fours. After a minute or so of crawling, Bianca whispered over her shoulder, “Smell that?”

  “Yeah,” Dason mumbled. “Syrupy sweet, like someone was making one huge batch of June apple jelly.”

  “More like nanoplasam jelly,” Bianca whispered back. “I’ve smelled this before; this must be where they concoct the nanoplasam.”

  A dim light outlined an oblong cavity a short distance ahead, and they continued creeping along on hands and knees.

  The sweet smell became so intense that it began to nauseate Dason. He had to fight back an almost overwhelming gag reflex, fearful that the sound of his throwing up his stomach contents would alert anyone nearby.

  Just before they reached the rectangular hole, Bianca lay flat and wiggled her way forward. She motioned to Dason to wait, stuck her head out of the hole for a quick scan, and then lowered herself out of the duct.

  For a moment, she disappeared but then her hand shot up to signal Dason to join her.

  Dason dropped to the latticed catwalk that ran just below the ductwork and crouched next to Bianca. Both drew their weapons and surveyed their surroundings.

  They were at one end of a long, oblong room. Several wall-mounted floodlights emitted harsh beams that lit the interior except near the ceiling, which was in a faint shadow.

  Below, and along the adjacent wall were several large chromium-colored domed vats. Wisps of steam wafted from pressure valves and Dason guessed that the almost overpowering smell came from the tanks.

  From the gleaming containers ran a series of bluish white tubes toward another set of upright metal cylinders farther down the building.

  In the room’s center were numerous smaller vats, some with open clam-shell covers, while others had closed lids. A small, waist-high console sat next to each container.

  Other than the various-sized vats, the room was empty, and the only noise was that of an occasional metal creaking that seemed to resonate from the larger containers.

  Bianca plucked at Dason’s sleeve, and treading with caution, they followed the catwalk as it led toward the far wall before it turned a sharp corner and continued down the building’s length.

  The two moved along the metal footbridge until it crossed over several open vats that contained a dark brew that bubbled and foamed.

  As Dason glanced down at the churning thick goo, his toe caught on the metal lattice. Stumbling forward, Bianca’s hand flashed out to grab his torso vest and hold him steady.

  “Definitely not the place to fall,” she whispered and pointed down. “Acretyline acid. About the same pH acidity as that stuff on Stygar Six.”

  Dason’s eyes widened and his heart beat faster at the mention of Stygar’s caustic brew that had almost cost him his life.

  He nodded thanks and Bianca turned to move forward again. After a few steps, Bianca stopped and gestured below. “The piping,” she murmured, “see how it comes together and then angles down through the wall?”

  Dason bobbed his head in acknowledgment. “A lower level on the other side?”

  “Yes,” Bianca replied. “Which makes sense. This looks like the initial formulating room, so they would keep the final prep room away from the really dangerous stuff.”

  “Dangerous?” Dason asked in a quiet voice. “I thought you said that nanoplasam was nothing more than a gel that resembled human tissue.”

  “In its final form, it is,” Bianca answered just as quietly. “But during the early processing, get the mixture wrong, or put the ingredients too close to a heat source and you get a runaway chemical reaction that ends with one great big boom.”

  “Terrific,” Dason muttered under his breath as he once again looked down at the slowly churning acid.

  Both crouched and surveyed the room. “Two doors leading to the next room,” Bianca observed. “And one small access door up here. Kinda makes you think the catwalk keeps going on the other side, doesn’t it?”

  Dason leaned over and craned his neck to look under the metal footing. “There’s a hangar bay type door below us,” he commented. “It may lead outside.”

  “Most likely,” Bianca replied, “as a way to bring in the ingredients for the vats.”

  Straightening to get a better look, Dason said, “If we go through one of those doors, and there’s someone on the other side, we’re go
ing to be awfully exposed.”

  Bianca wrinkled her nose and peered at the small door. “So, we play what’s behind door number one, door number two, or door number three.”

  She hesitated and then said, “Well, as they say, he who holds the high ground—we go through the catwalk door.”

  They made their way to the small, oblong door and stopped. Bianca leaned over and spoke in muted tones, “You crack the door open. I’ll cover the opening, but go real slow.”

  Dason nodded and reached for the curved door handle. Bianca drew her weapon and aimed it at the doorjamb. Dason glanced at her, and she gave a quick nod that she was ready.

  Dason grasped the handle and in a slow and deliberate manner turned the lever. An almost imperceptible crack appeared and grew wider until Dason had it at shoulder width.

  He started over the threshold when his foot stopped in midstep. In the room below, guarded by a lone man holding an L-gun, was a Sha’anay lying unmoving on a greenish-hued metallic table.

  They had found Tor’al.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Star date: 2443.083

  Marsten’s World

  Steeling himself against the sight of Tor’al lying motionless, Dason’s eyes bored in on the Sha’anay Elder, his fists clenched and his jaws tight. The body’s stillness, the eyes closed, no rising or falling of the chest with each breath and the arms slumped at the side all told the story.

  Dason recognized a dead body when he saw one.

  Before he could motion to Bianca, Dason’s head jerked up at the sound of hurried footsteps. Two men and a woman sped around the corner and rushed over to Tor’al.

  They seemed to be carrying instruments, wore knee-length lab coats, and without a word, bent over the Sha’anay with their implements.

  For an instant, Dason’s heart raced and he leaned forward to get a better look. He thought he had seen Tor’al move, ever so slightly.

  A moment later, his head snapped up. He was right! One of Tor’al’s hands rose in a limp gesture before falling back to the table. He had been so wrong.

  Tor’al was alive!

  Dason turned and gestured for Bianca to follow him onto the catwalk. Kneeling on one knee, she knelt beside him as he motioned below. He could see her own eyes widen as she caught sight of Tor’al.

  Bianca motioned for the two of them to move forward and crouching low, they crept along the bridge toward a nearby metal staircase. They froze when abruptly, shouting erupted at the building’s far end.

  Both flattened themselves on the metal lattice as they heard hard, pounding footsteps racing toward those below.

  A little movement to one side of Tor’al and against the wall caused Dason to turn his head away from the oncoming footsteps and peer toward where Tor’al lay. An electric jolt tore through his body.

  Hidden earlier by an oversized vat, but now sitting in the open on the floor, bound and gagged were Alena and Ri Romerand. Alena was staring straight at Dason, her eyes big and full, but Romerand had his head down and didn’t see the two scouts high up on the catwalk.

  Dason couldn’t help his tiny smile as he brought a finger up to his lips signaling quiet. Alena gave a little nod that she understood.

  Another shout tore his attention away from Alena. Six or seven men, one of whom wore a dark robe whose head covering reminded Dason of a cobra’s flared hood, hurried toward the table and Tor’al.

  One of the men hefted a bulky and triangular-shaped device under one arm and held a bluish appearing sphere in the other hand. Dason became motionless, his eyes never leaving the two devices that the man carried.

  He immediately recognized the orb, had seen one several times on the Alpha Prime planet in the hands of the Mongans.

  For some reason, the sphere along with the apparatus, gave Dason the overwhelming impression that he stared at a Mongan teleportation machine.

  The men reached Tor’al and the robed man began barking orders at the four who surrounded the table. “Out, now! Take him to the ship!”

  His loud voice resounded in the large room as he whipped around and snapped to one of the men, “I’ve changed my mind.”

  The swarthy man pointed a slender hand toward Alena and Romerand. “They’re of no use to me. Take care of them. How, I don’t care. But, if you’re not on board when we raise ship, you get left behind.”

  The tall man snapped his fingers at a nearby companion and hooked a thumb toward Alena and Romerand. For an instant, the two turned enough that Dason and Bianca caught a good look at their faces.

  He didn’t recognize the smaller of the two Gadions, but the other had an all-too-familiar face. The taller Faction thug was none other than Khalid the assassin; the man who had tried to kill both Dason and Bianca and just recently escaped from the scout’s ship.

  Khalid and his companion bent over Alena and Romerand and with rough hands pulled them to their feet. With hard shoves, they pushed them through the nearby door.

  A second later, the hover table lifted Tor’al’s body off the ground by a few centimeters. Using hand controls, one of the men guided the table behind the man in the dark robes while the others strode quickly alongside.

  Dason turned anguished eyes toward Bianca, who returned his stare with her own agonized expression. Without a doubt, he knew what she was thinking; it was just the two of them, but who to save?

  To go after Tor’al would condemn Alena and Romerand to death, but to rescue Alena and her father meant risk losing Tor’al.

  Bianca hesitated before saying in a fierce whisper in Dason’s ear, “I can’t choose one over the other. I’ll go after Tor’al while at the same time contacting Brant. You do what you can for Alena and Romerand.”

  She reached out, squeezed Dason’s arm gently. “Take care of yourself, scout. See you on the outside. Scout’s Out.”

  With that, Bianca charged straight ahead while Dason sprang up and darted back through the access door. Now was not the time to stay quiet and unseen. Not with lives at stake.

  He tore through the door opening and onto the metal bridge. Hesitating for a second, he took in the scene; the two Gadions had L-guns pressed into the backs of Alena and Romerand, pushing them toward the vats that lined the walls.

  Dason understood in an instant what they planned.

  The acid pots!

  Dason dashed along the catwalk, thumbed his weapon to “stun” and took aim on the run at the four below, fired—and missed.

  Spinning at the sound of Dason’s footsteps clanging on the metal lattice, Khalid whipped up his weapon and let off a laser shot.

  Seeing Khalid jerk his gun up, Dason dove and hit the plas-steel plating just as Khalid fired. Crackling and searing the air, the Faction’s energy bolts passed so close that Dason felt the blistering heat on his exposed face and neck.

  Rolling to one knee, Dason returned fire, but the railing grillwork blocked his view so his shots went wide and off-target.

  Two more crimson bolts zipped by his head, and the metal wall behind him exploded, sending fiery hot metal fragments spraying across Dason and the catwalk.

  Like a sprinter coming out of his blocks, Dason sprang forward, taking wild shots with his weapon over the railing in the hope that he might hit his assailants or at least keep them from taking a clean shot at him.

  Another blaster shot from below just missed, blasting the wall behind him and once again, Dason had to dive to the plating.

  For an instant, he peeked through the metal slats. Alena and Romerand struggled against the two killers, but with their hands bound, it was a losing battle.

  In a desperate move, Alena spun and brought her booted heel into the shorter man’s midsection. The man’s lips pursed together, and with an audible “whoosh” of air, he clutched at his stomach and dropped to the ground.

  Enraged at Alena’s attack, Khalid swung his blaster in a vicious sideswipe that caught Alena full on the side of her face with the rock-hard barrel.

  Blood sprayed out from her mouth in che
rry-red droplets as Alena spun away and fell at an awkward angle with one knee on the floor, and her other leg splayed out behind her.

  Romerand’s harsh “No!” reverberated through the room, and he charged into the assassin, sending both of them tumbling to the ground.

  Like a striking viper, Khalid landed a punishing chopping blow to Romerand’s neck which caused Romerand to arch his back and then slump, motionless to the floor.

  Khalid rolled away, sprang to his feet, and targeted his blaster straight at Romerand’s head.

  Crouching, Dason flung his arm over the railing and loosed a shot at Khalid but his aim was off and the stun beam went over the killer’s head.

  Khalid ducked away and instead of firing point-blank into Romerand, Khalid whipped off a blast that narrowly missed Dason on his catwalk.

  Before the enraged killer could turn back to Romerand, Alena dove into him shoulder first, sending the muscular man sprawling to the floor.

  Like a striking hawk, Alena’s vicious kick smashed into Khalid’s outstretched hand that held his blaster sending his laser gun skidding and rattling across the floor.

  With another violent strike with her boot, Alena sent the gun sliding further along the metallic deck where it came to rest between two of the acid vats.

  Khalid lashed out with one leg, catching Alena just above her ankles. Alena’s feet flew out from under her and with a cry, she crashed to the floor.

  Seeing his chance, Dason whipped his stunner around to fire but the other Faction member had roused and before Dason could get off a shot, the killer’s scarlet beam splintered the grillwork in front of Dason.

  The heat and flash of metal vaporizing blinded Dason for an instant, but in desperation, he poked his weapon over the metal fence to get off a stun spray shot.

  In the same instant, another blaster shot from the man caught the railing’s top and the barrel of Dason’s weapon.

  Recoiling in pain, Dason dropped the scorching red-hot L-gun where it clattered to the floor. Blinking hard at the multicolored lights that danced across his vision, Dason scrambled across the deck, trying to find his weapon.