Dark Star Rising

by Bennett R. Coles

  “Really?” Amelia asked, watching the blackened, tortured cliffs around them.

  “Gravity’s still strong enough to hold an atmosphere,” Liam said, “but on this side of the planet it pools in these valleys.”

  “So no climbing back to the ship, then?”

  “Wouldn’t recommend it,” he said with a grin.

  The sky around the boat brightened, but not in the usual blue of a healthy planet. It was a golden light, cast upward by the thousands of artificial lamps in the town below. It was barely enough to see by, and Faith steered the boat down to a long line of public docks with difficulty. Hunter jumped ashore and tied them fast, scanning the broad platform. Amelia followed Sky in stepping down to the dock and did her own survey. Boats of various vintages and conditions were tied up along both sides of the jetty. Some were unattended, others had crew loading or unloading stores. There were dozens of locals about, but none offered more than a passing glance to the newcomers. Other than the sparkling dust clouds high above and the ethereal golden light, this could have been any typical port in any system.

  “Nothing unusual,” Swift commented.

  “I guess folks are just folks,” Amelia agreed, “no matter where we go.”

  “Except these folks work for Dark Star,” Sky muttered.

  Amelia stiffened, suddenly reminded of the truth of Sky’s words. Daring had been hunting down pirates for months, but this was the first time the mission had taken them into the lion’s den. She looked anew at the sailors and stevedores bustling along the jetty. No one was neutral here. No one could be trusted.

  “We shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes,” Liam said to Faith and Hunter. “Our contacts have an office less than a block from the end of the jetty.”

  He motioned for Amelia and the others to follow and strode off down the jetty. She slipped in at his side, hearing the soft footfalls of Swift and Sky behind. The entire town was eerily quiet, and she realized that there was no wind. No movement of the cool, heavy air. When atmosphere clung to pockets in the rock like this, she realized, there was nothing to get it moving. They were in a breathable oasis in a shattered wasteland. Her eyes drifted up to the maelstrom high above them, but it was a chilling sight. She forced herself to look ahead and focus on the environment around her.

  The town rose up from the jetty front, stone buildings that teetered in an old-fashioned style reminiscent of some Hub worlds. The cobbled streets were uneven and in disrepair, but carts still trundled along in both directions. There were a few merchant stalls active, hawking a variety of basic household goods. A small pack of Theropods loped by, laden down with heavy sacks. The crowd suddenly parted with shouts and curses as a group of what looked like rolling coffins wedged their way forward before turning sharply toward the jetty. Amelia stepped aside with her companions, watching in fascination as the Aquans passed, the tail end of their coffins swishing back and forth to drive the rear wheels. Liam had told her about his previous meeting with these aliens, and Amelia paused in delight, marveling at how the Aquans had adapted their environment suits to allow them to mimic their own natural swimming movements.

  “Come on, Amelia,” Liam prompted, tugging her sleeve.

  She followed along, still observing all the details around her. Old women paused in their chores to watch from upper windows. Dogs, cats, and children scampered among the alleys. The usual rumble of casual conversation and wheels rolling spoke of a normal working day. In so many ways this was just like her home on Passagia—just with no sun, and more aliens.

  Liam paused in the overhang of a house and looked back at his companions.

  “That’s our place,” he said, nodding to an office across the street. “Anything to cause alarm?”

  Amelia noted that the door was unusually wide, probably for getting larger cargo through, but otherwise saw nothing remarkable in the three-story stone structure.

  “It looks more solid than a lot of the other buildings,” Swift remarked. “But it would have to be if the Aquans have created a full environment for themselves within.”

  “A what?” Amelia asked.

  “A giant fishbowl, so they can take their suits off.”

  “Huh.”

  “There are at least three people watching us,” Sky said. “Two Humans and a Theropod.”

  “From the building?” Liam asked.

  “No. From an upper window half a block back, from the tavern window up ahead, and that brute supposedly selling potatoes.”

  “Do you sense a threat?”

  “No . . . but we should keep moving so we don’t start to look strange.”

  Loitering, Amelia could see, was not something people did on this street. Liam seemed to agree and he motioned them forward. They approached the office door and Amelia noticed the sign on the wall: simple black text on a white background, except the symbols were in four languages. The blocky letters were for Humans, the scratched runes for Theropods, and two others. The elaborate crosshatches she recognized from her visit to the Sectoid ship, and the flowing curves she assumed were the Aquan language.

  “Looks like they cater to all comers,” she said, pointing at the sign.

  “Let’s hope they don’t take sides,” Liam replied, before pushing the door open.

  The room within was larger than the senior mess back in Daring, but with only two dim lanterns to fight back the shadows it felt much smaller. The stone walls were damp, and a trickle of water dripped from the single heavy door on the far side. Shelves no higher than Amelia’s waist lined two walls, half-filled with an assortment of goods, and a low, round table stood in the center of the room. Behind that table was an Aquan, floating in its environment suit and staring up at them with huge eyes.

  Liam stepped forward. “Good day to you. My ship has just arrived after a long voyage from Cornucopia and I would like to replenish. I understand your company can supply the finest water for Human consumption.”

  “Our water,” the translator in the coffin announced, “is worthy of your Emperor. We just sent off a shipment to Honoria, but I believe we can provide enough for you.”

  Liam nodded. Amelia agreed that the correct code words had been exchanged. This was their contact. Swift had stepped a few paces clear, and Sky took station by the window.

  “Thank you for meeting with us,” Liam said. “My quartermaster has made up a list of stores we need—”

  “There isn’t much time,” the Aquan interrupted. “The Human who rules this place has eyes everywhere.”

  “Is Dark Star here?” Liam asked. “Is this the boathouse?”

  The Aquan fluttered around the table, moving close as the volume of the translator dropped. “It is at the northern end of this valley, on the highest central peak.”

  “Thank you. May we repay you by making use of your services?”

  “We have little to offer, because that Human is cutting us out of the trade.”

  “We will put a stop to that.”

  “You must go.” The Aquan started to roll backward.

  Liam glanced at Amelia, then back at the Aquan. “What’s wrong?”

  “Sir,” Sky called from the window, “there’s a group approaching—Human and Theropod mix, with weapons.”

  “We’re moving,” Liam said, bursting into action as he crossed the damp floor, threw open the door, and stepped out into the street.

  Amelia was right behind him, looking to her right at the gang approaching them. There were at least a dozen, and their faces lit up as soon as she and Liam appeared.

  “I’m happy to run,” she said, pushing him forward.

  “No point,” he said, drawing his saber and pistol.

  She looked past him, toward the jetty, and saw another gang of thugs approaching, led by a woman in a silver breastplate, a black cross fashioned across it. As she moved forward she glanced left and right, black ringlets of hair falling past her ears. The street was blocked in both directions, but the alley running alongside the Aquan building looked clear.


  “This way,” Amelia said, stepping toward the alley.

  “You three go,” Liam hissed. “I’m the one they want.”

  “We’re not leaving you,” she shot back, edging toward the alley. Swift and Sky were next to her, weapons out.

  “We know they won’t hurt me,” Liam said, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two approaching groups. “Because Dark Star wants me unharmed.”

  “Unless their orders have changed,” Swift said. “We can still make it if we run.”

  “Get back to the ship,” Liam insisted, “and tell the captain where the boathouse is. I’ll wait for rescue.”

  “You can tell her yourself,” Amelia said, edging closer to him as she drew her own pistol and blade.

  “They’ll just cut us off,” Liam said, visibly angry. “I’ll delay them while you three escape and get help.”

  “Like we’d ever do that,” Swift said, lowering into a defensive stance.

  “I am ordering you to escape,” Liam growled, taking his eyes off the enemy long enough to pin Swift with his glare. “Lieutenant Swift, Chief Sky, and Petty Officer Virtue, withdraw and get help.”

  Amelia glanced at her two senior colleagues. Their steely expressions darkened, and they both started to back up.

  “Yes, sir,” Swift muttered.

  “We’ll come for you,” Sky added.

  They edged into the alley, still watching for an attack.

  “You as well,” Liam said, elbowing Amelia back.

  “Not a chance,” she said, moving to his side. Her own anger was flaring. Why did he have to be such a big, dumb hero?

  “That is an order, Petty Officer.” His eyes locked with hers, and she could see the desperation in his gaze. He was just trying to protect her, she knew. Well, who was going to protect him?

  “I resign my position,” she said, spitting on the ground. “And I stand with you.”

  “Insolent cur,” he muttered, even as his eyes sparkled. Then over his shoulder he barked: “You two, get out of here!”

  After another long, reluctant pause, Swift and Sky turned and ran.

  Amelia felt Liam’s arm brush against her shoulder as they moved to defend. The group of thugs ahead of her were well-armed, and she could see pistols being drawn. She raised her own directly at the lead Human.

  “Get back,” she warned. “I have enough rounds to drop every one of you.”

  “Captain Stonebridge,” she heard a female voice call. The woman in the silver armor stepped forward. “Put away your weapons, before something happens that none of us want.”

  “I know you have orders not to harm me,” he declared.

  “Yes, but that doesn’t extend to your crew,” she replied, pointing a pistol at Amelia.

  Amelia swung her own weapon to point right back. Liam’s expression hardened.

  “If you hurt her,” he warned, “I will fight to the death. But if you promise to leave her unharmed, we will come willingly.”

  The woman holstered her pistol and lifted her hands to calm her two bands of thugs. She was tall and slim, her curly black hair hanging just past her collar. Large, dark, intelligent eyes shifted between Amelia and Liam.

  “A perfect solution, Captain,” she said. “We will have two guests, then.”

  Amelia watched the easy authority that this woman exercised. The thugs lowered their weapons at her gesture, and she stepped forward to take Liam’s weapons. He handed them over, a curious look on his face. She held his gaze for a moment, and the hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

  “Think hard, my lord,” she said.

  She turned to Amelia, extending her hands. Amelia surrendered the pistol and dagger. This was a terrible situation, she knew, yet she couldn’t help but marvel at this woman.

  “Are you Dark Star?” she asked.

  “No,” the woman replied with a soft laugh. “But when Lord Blackwood finally remembers my name, I’m sure he’ll tell you what it is.”

  Her easy words almost glided right past Amelia. Then she realized that the woman had just used Liam’s real title. Her eyes snapped over to him. He was staring intently at the woman, but Amelia could see no fear. His expression was calm, with possibly a spark of anticipation.

  The woman stepped back, motioning forward two thugs with manacles.

  “I’m sure you both understand,” she said smoothly as Amelia felt her arms being wrenched back and cuffed. “But I don’t want to take any chances that you’ll do something foolish and damage yourselves. Dark Star wouldn’t be pleased.”

  Amelia didn’t resist as they were led away. She glanced up at Liam. His expression was clouded, but he noticed her gaze and gave her a wink.

  “You know something,” she whispered to him.

  “I’m not sure,” he whispered back. “But we’re going to find out soon.”

  Chapter 14

  Bundled into a shuttered carriage, Amelia and Liam couldn’t see where they were being taken, but the length of the journey and the steady uphill climb gave them a good indication that they were headed for the boathouse. A pair of burly men crowded into the carriage with them, so conversation was impossible, but Amelia took strength from Liam’s serenity. He truly seemed convinced that they would come to no harm.

  Amelia had seen enough gangs and petty kingpins over the years to doubt his conviction, though. Just growing up in Passagia she’d always seen the criminal elements in the shadows, broken men and women who enjoyed the act of intimidation and reveled in delivering pain. From everything the Daring crew had seen of the pirates’ activities, she didn’t think Dark Star’s people were any different. But, as the carriage bounced along the street, the two thugs sat in silence, idly watching their prisoners but offering no threats.

  The carriage finally trundled to a halt. The door opened and the wooden steps were lowered. The man next to Amelia motioned for her to get out. She stood shakily, unbalanced by the manacles constricting her. A strong hand reached up and took her sleeve, guiding her down to the ground and leading her toward the towering black form of a rocky shard. The surface was surprisingly smooth, she thought as her eyes scanned upward, and she tried to imagine what natural forces could have carved it so when this planet was torn apart. Up beyond the tip of the shard she could see the flashing dust ribbons of Labyrinthia against a starry backdrop. A familiar-looking silhouette caught her eye, and she realized that there was a sailing ship docked right at the very top of the shard. Spaced at intervals down the entire vertical surface, short jetties extended from the rock and a variety of boats were tied up. The golden glow of the surface shined dully off nearly a dozen hulls. The light was muted here, but glancing back Amelia saw the town nestled below them in the valley. Liam was brought up and together they were led through a heavy door into the shard.

  The guards closed in tight around them as they moved through warm corridors carved from the rock. Amelia tried to keep track of the lanterns as they passed on the walls, but eventually lost count through all the twists and turns. And stairs. She started counting how many stairs they climbed but gave up after three hundred. The ache in her legs told her everything she needed to know—they were headed for the top. The steps finally ended in a long corridor, which itself ended at a set of double doors. They were opened by guards and Amelia followed her escort through.

  Her first thought was that they’d stepped outside again, as the vista of the tortured valley spread out before her, with the stars and the charged clouds high above, but there was no change in air temperature or pressure. She was looking, she suddenly realized, through walls of pure glass that stretched up and over this enormous room. Beyond the glass was a wide wooden deck, narrowing into a jetty. And floating alongside was the sailing ship she’d seen below. Its hull was raked, with a bowsprit that reminded her of Silverhawk’s Arrow. A fast cutter, then.

  One of her guards suddenly motioned for her to stop, and another came up behind her to remove the manacles. She eased her arms forward, flexing her fingers
and rubbing strained muscles. Liam was also freed, and the guards stepped away. There were a few other guards behind them, Amelia noticed, and at least one more silhouetted against the stunning glass walls. The woman who had commanded the capture team stepped into view again. She’d shed her breastplate and stood before them looking every inch the pirate, complete with a waist sash wrapped through her weapons belt. Beyond her the floor was tiled, with elegant rugs laid out to center the high-backed chairs and carved tables that could have come from any noble sitting room.

  “So, Lord Blackwood,” she queried, “do you remember my name?”

  “I remember you from Windfall, and that they called you ‘the Piper’ . . . But that isn’t quite right, is it?”

  She folded her arms, eyeing him doubtfully.

  Liam shifted his shoulders, rubbing his wrists absently. He gave her a long look.

  “Piper Sunstone, isn’t it?” he said finally.

  “Ha!” came a new female voice. Amelia looked around. Was it the guard by the windows who had spoken? “I told you he was different. He always took notice of the common folk.”

  The accent was clearly aristocratic, though softened. Liam’s eyes were suddenly alight, Amelia noticed.

  Piper raised an eyebrow as she assessed Liam doubtfully. “I wonder if his memory would be so good if I was a man.”

  “Don’t sulk, Piper.”

  “Very well,” she sighed. “You win.”

  The figure at the windows turned and strolled toward them. It was a woman, Amelia noticed by the walk, of medium height and obviously very fit. Her black trousers and white silk shirt hugged her form, her hips unencumbered by weapons. But it was her hair that drew Amelia’s attention—fiery red curls that cascaded down past her shoulders. Her features could have been carved from porcelain, high and noble and unblemished. Her green eyes passed almost unseeing over Amelia and fixed on Liam. Amelia tensed, ready to fight. But then she noticed that those eyes shined with something most unexpected. This woman looked at Liam with affection. Perhaps even love.

  “Liam,” she said softly, walking right up to him and reaching out slender fingers to caress his cheek.