by Paul Barrett
“I’m here,” Hawk said from the doorway.
“About t—” Ashron started. Hawk’s uniform stunned him into silence.
The entire outfit was black, so black it appeared devoid of color and almost seemed to be drawing in the light around it. Through this darkness, there appeared pinpoints of illumination so subtle they were almost illusory, like stars viewed in the night sky. The silken shirt had bloused sleeves and a V-cut collar that tapered to mid sternum. Richly embroidered above the right breast was a seven-pointed star of sterling thread. Bright red and orange flames leaped upward from the top of the star. When light touched the insignia, the colors flashed in brilliant contrast to the black cloth, as if the star were bejeweled.
The pants were fashioned of the same black, slightly flared at the bottom. Thin red piping ran down the outer seams. The outline of the star was laser pressed into each leg, so subtle it remained invisible until the light struck the correct angle. The high-topped boots gleamed ebon; a jeweled knife hilt protruded from the top of each one.
The cape came straight from a medieval fantasy. Black and flowing, with red satin lining on the inner side, it moved on its own accord, as if a breeze blew through the room even though the air sat still.
The real beauty lay in the cape’s star.
It was a larger version of the emblem on the shirt: seven-pointed, with flames leaping from the top. Like those on the pants, the design had been laser pressed, but subtlety had no place in the creation of this symbol. The silver forming the star’s lines flared with the brilliance of freshly minted, newly polished metal. The flames leaped off the fabric, the colors almost blinding in their intensity. As the cape shifted, the flames moved, flickering and dancing around the star.
An elaborately decorated broadsword fastened on the belt completed the uniform. Gems covered the pommel, and the sword itself gave off a faint glow. A pearl-handled pistol rested opposite the sword.
The whole outfit radiated power and an almost overwhelming presence.
Ashron’s mouth moved; nothing came out.
“Wow,” Laura said after a full twenty seconds.
“Filamentous,” Trey chimed in.
Wolf and Gerard grinned broadly, and Gerard said, “Does this mean I need to break mine back out?”
Hawk smiled, and then looked at Laura, Ashron, and Trey. “This uniform was last worn the day Sara died, and no Knight has worn it since. However, since we are now going to face the person most directly responsible, Sara and I decided it was time for the Knights to be as they once were. Laura Benzing, step forward.”
Laura walked up in front of Hawk. He drew the broadsword and touched the sword to her forehead. “Touched by the sword of Zerus, blessed by the fire of Zerus, witnessed by the son of Zerus, Laura Benzing, your service has made you worthy to wear the uniform of a Knight of The Flaming Star. Do you accept?”
“With all my heart,” Laura said, smiling at him.
“Ashron, son of Ashon, step forward.”
Ashron stepped up next to Laura. Hawk placed the sword on top of Ashron’s head. “Touched by the sword of Zerus, blessed by the fire of Zerus, witnessed by the son of Zerus, Ashron, son of Ashon, your service has made you worthy to wear the uniform of a Knight of The Flaming Star. Do you accept?”
Despite his best efforts, Ashron was grinning like an idiot. “Are you kidding?” he said. Laura elbowed him in the ribs. Composing himself, he said, “Yes, of course, I would be honored.”
Hawk nodded to him and then winked. Looking at Trey, he said, “Trey of Kel, step forward.”
With a nervous glance at the others, Trey moved next to Ashron.
Putting the sword on Trey’s head, Hawk said, “Touched by the sword of Zerus, blessed by the fire of Zerus, witnessed by the son of Zerus. Trey of Kel, your service, bravery, and willingness to sacrifice yourself for others has made you more than worthy to wear the uniform of a Knight of The Flaming Star. Do you accept?”
Trey couldn’t handle it. He burst into tears. Overwhelmed, he saw in the other crew members love and caring he had almost forgotten existed. Love and caring he didn’t know if he deserved. Not trusting himself to speak, he merely nodded.
“Let these three stand forth as proud members of the Knights of The Flaming Star.” Hawk sheathed the sword.
Ashron couldn’t control himself. “When do we get the uniforms?”
“They’re right over there,” Hawk said, pointing to three boxes on the kitchen counter.
“Yes!” Ashron ran over and grabbed the box with his name on it.
“Put it on in your room,” Laura said as Ashron began kicking off his boots.
“Oh, yes, of course.” He scooped up his items and ran from the room.
“Come on, Trey,” Gerard said, “I’ll help you try yours on.”
Still not speaking, Trey tucked his box under his arm and walked out, followed by Gerard.
Laura walked over to Hawk. “Very nice,” she said. She tilted her head up and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling.
As Laura left to try on her uniform, Wolf looked at Hawk and grinned.
“What?” Hawk asked.
“Nothing,” Wolf answered, his broad face still grinning.
28
Arrival At Kalatos Three
“This is Kalatos Three Port Authority to Mazil Diqam holding compartment seven six two.”
“Hold sivin ses two har,” Laura answered back. Kasta’s ship held so many vessels that unloading protocol used no names, only cargo hold designations. That suited Laura and the others fine.
“You are cleared to disengage and begin descent. Follow beam twenty-nine.”
“O’ger tat. Beam tenty-ine, argeted and locked,” She keyed a different com frequency. “Kear mo-rings.”
“Moorings cleared,” came the reply from one of the freighter’s crew. “Hey, Dellan, bring us up a couple of bottles when you come back up.”
“I’ll tink about et,” Laura replied. “Clear the bay. Preparin fer throsters firing.” For this trip, Laura became Dellan Kortel, a female Tralan who served as a member of the freighter’s crew. Her brown hair now glowed fiery red and her ordinarily bronze skin had been dyed a few shades shy of sheet white. She was also doing a passable job of imitating a Tralanese accent.
“Bay empty,” another voice told her. “Fire thrusters at will.”
Laura entered the proper sequence. A dull roar filled the cabin as Ship’s thrusters came to life. As soon as she cleared the freighter, the voice from the Port Authority spoke again. “Ship seven six two, you are clear to switch to automated landing sequence.”
“Switching to otto now.” Laura punched a sensor on the control pad.
“Automatic lock established. Landing in fifteen minutes. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”
“Tank you,” Laura told him. “Sivin ses two oot.” Laura turned off the microphone. She spun around in the chair and looked at the rest of the crew, who had been sitting silently behind her.
“Good job,” Hawk told her. “I like the accent. How are you doing, Ship?”
“Fine, Captain,” Ship said. After a moment, she said, “They’re scanning us now.”
“Port Authorities are so predictable. How’s the distort?”
“Holding nicely,” Ship answered. “The only lifeform they’re reading is Laura.”
“Well, this lifeform is going to go get her pack ready.”
“Okay,” Hawk said. “Ashron and Tasha will leave with the freighter’s crew in…?” he looked at Laura.
“Two hours,” she told him, knowing full well he already knew the answer and was testing her.
“And you’re going to rendezvous at…?”
“The grocery store two klicks from the compound.”
“And you’re going to…?”
“Infiltrate the compound, get pertinent incriminating data, and get out.”
“And the whole operation is going to take no longer than…?”
&
nbsp; “Thirty minutes.”
“Boy,” Hawk said. “I’m glad you’re so smart. I’d be lost without you.”
“I’m going to go pack now.”
“No need,” Trey opened one of the cabinets on the bridge. “I already packed it for you.”
Using his good hand, Trey pulled out her black jumper suit. He pushed the locker shut with the stub of his arm. Holding the jumper up so it wouldn’t drag the floor, Trey walked over to Laura and handed it to her. “Check and make sure everything is there.”
She opened the various static pockets and made a quick examination of the contents. Everything in place and expertly packed. “Thank you,” Laura said, smiling. Trey’s condition, both physically and mentally, had improved dramatically during the transit time.
“Okay,” Hawk said. “We’d better go hide.”
“Be careful,” Trey told Laura.
“I always am,” she said, leaning down and kissing him on the cheek.
Hawk and Trey left the bridge and headed for Hawk’s quarters. Ashron and Tasha were with the freighter’s crew, offloading the ships. Since they were the stealthiest and, ironically, least recognizable of the people who were on Ship, they would ride down with the rest of the work crew and back up Laura on her midnight invasion of Alexic Salakon’s house. The rest would stay on Ship. Hawk and Gerard would help with coordination of the assault. Wolf obviously could go nowhere without causing heads to turn and would stay aboard for that reason. Trey would remain aboard because they had ordered him to.
As they walked into his room, Hawk said, “Open it up, Ship.”
“Aye, Captain,” she answered. There was a click and the secret door that sealed off Hawk’s “think tank” opened up.
“Filamentous,” Trey said. “I never knew that was there.”
“That’s the idea,” Hawk said, starting to remove his clothes. “If anyone comes snooping around, they won’t know it’s here either. You might want to strip to your shorts. The water gets warm.”
Trey started undressing, hampered by his missing arm. “If someone inspects her, won’t they notice Ship’s been lived in?”
“Been taken care of,” Hawk tossed his clothes into a hamper. “Manifest reads she was confiscated from a group of pirates and sold to UCT. There are so many ships no one is going to check that closely. You ready?”
“Yeah,” Trey said, also tossing his clothes into the hamper.
Gerard and Wolf were already inside as Hawk and Trey settled in. It made for a tight fit. The small kenquala darted from person to person, doing their best to relax the tense crew members.
Laura watched the monitors as Ship, guided by the tractor beam, landed. She let out a low whistle at what she saw. Hundreds of starcraft of all sizes stretched out for at least three kilometers. According to Gerard, this was only one of about twenty such sites. The amount of money being laid out on this operation astounded her.
With a dull thump, Ship landed. Laura quickly ran through the shutdown sequence and unstrapped herself, relishing in the quiet as the engines died away. Since she could say nothing to Ship, she took the elevator to the lowest deck and hit the pressure switch to drop the stairs.
As the bottom of the steps settled to the concrete, she saw, not unexpectedly, a small Gralin standing in front of Ship with a datapad in his indigo colored, three-fingered hand. He wore a pair of coveralls with the UCT logo laser pressed on the front.
Laura strolled down the stairs and into the heat of Kalatos. She shielded her eyes from the glare coming off the landing pad and saw the technician tapping at his datapad.
The Gralin looked up at Laura as she stopped at the bottom of the ramp. “Seven six two?” he asked, voice modulated by the translator he wore on his throat
“Yes,” Laura answered, still mimicking Dellan’s accent. “Et’s all yurs.”
The Gralin glanced at the hatchway, and then scanned the field with his solid yellow eyes to see if any of his superiors were watching. He turned back to Laura, and his small blue mouth moved. “Everything look good in there?”
“Loks like any uther ship,” she answered.
“Okay,” he said, tapping on the datapad.
Laura relaxed inwardly, surprised at how concerned she had been that they would board Ship and inspect her. She wasn’t going to have to offer their contrived explanation.
As the Gralin started to waddle away on his stubby legs, Laura said, “Perdon me.”
He turned back.
“I’m uff duty and need to peck up some tings from a shop. Is tere one around?”
“The city is twenty kilometers away. A shuttle leaves in two hours when the rest of the crew is down. That building there.” He pointed to one of the large metal sheds that dotted the field. Laura hoped they had air conditioning here or the building would be a boiler box.
“Tank you,” Laura said. “O, ere’s the keys,” She handed the Gralin a metal cylinder with three different buttons on it. The man pushed the top button and Ship’s stairs began to fold up.
As she walked away, Laura smiled. If anybody tried to open the hatch, it would develop a mysterious short. By the time they figured out there was nothing wrong with it, the mission would be over, and Hawk could take off with Ship, leaving everyone standing with their jaws open.
Laura moved across the field to the large shed the technician had pointed out. Even though she didn’t relish the idea of waiting around for two hours, she didn’t have much choice. She couldn’t walk the twenty klicks to town, and she had a feeling this operation would frown on cabs being called.
She stepped into the open doorway and looked around. The building was sparsely filled. A few benches and some tables occupied one corner. The rest was taken up by the long shuttle, a craft whose door was presently closed and guarded by two beefy fellows with large rifles. These people were serious about no one leaving before the shuttle was ready to go. Thankfully, the building had air conditioning. It did nothing to hide the metallic odor of shuttle fuel.
With a sigh, Laura sat down at one of the benches and resigned herself to waiting.
29
Midnight Invasion
“Jesus,” Laura said under her breath. “It looks like a castle.”
Ashron watched as Laura approached the outer wall of the compound to Salakon’s estate. She didn’t exaggerate. The place was huge, made mostly of stone with an outer wall roughly ten meters high. From his vantage point, Ashron could see the entire courtyard, patrolled by several heavily armed men. A Bolor Mark 7 tank sat in front of the gate, its large barrel pointing down the road leading to the manor.
“This guy’s ready,” Ashron said to no one in particular. “You know, just once I’d like to assault a place that was guarded by one poodle armed with a pea shooter.”
“Sound check,” Laura said.
“Clear,” Ashron, Tasha, and Gerard answered in order.
“Clear,” Laura repeated back. “I’m hitting the rounds.”
That was the signal for everyone to go online. From here out they would run by the numbers.
Back on Ship, Gerard oversaw the mission. He had control of sound and visual from Laura’s headset and monitored vital signs from the biochip implanted in each crew member. The latest toy from Gerard’s lab, the headset had several micro-cameras; they covered a three hundred and sixty-degree sphere around her. He could change them to look in various spectrums, including infrared and ultraviolet. The microphone could pick up an ant walking at a hundred meters if Gerard so desired, He could watch her back while she performed other tasks, and also observe things she would be unable to see with her contacts.
Trey, wearing his Knight’s uniform, sat in a nice soft chair Wolf had brought in for him. He watched in amazement that Gerard could keep up with the dancing screens as he went through the various spectrums. The best Trey could do was follow what he thought was every third one.
Wolf sat nearby, his face unconcerned as he settled in for the show.
Hawk perched over
Ship’s controls on the bridge one deck above the others. If necessary, he would act the instant anything went wrong. He had Ship sitting like a cat ready to pounce, all systems powered and weaponry on auto. Now that she had been assimilated into the shipyard, no workers bothered to show interest in her.
“How are things on your side, Tasha?” Laura asked, her voice pouring over Ship’s speaker.
“As well as we expected. No new players.”
“You’re clear to move anytime, Laura,” Gerard said. He glanced over at Trey and keyed off his transmit. “You enjoy chess. Want a lesson in tactics?”
“Sure,” Trey answered.
“I’m going,” Laura said.
“Roger,” Gerard said, then returned to Trey. “In a building assault, you give each face of the building a number. One is the front, and you go clockwise from there,” Gerard pointed at a glowing form that represented Tasha. “Tasha is covering the three/four corner, and Ashron has the one/two position. Those positions let them cover Laura in case things go wrong.”
Laura slipped on a pair of malachite colored gloves and began climbing the vertical face of the wall almost as quickly as walking.
“Wow, she’s good,” Trey said.
“One of the best,” Hawk said, his pride carrying through the speakers.
“Her gloves help,” Gerard said. “They’re made from ciliaside and stick to rough surfaces. But there’s no doubt Laura is one of the most adept at their use.”
“See anything out of the ordinary, Gerard?” Laura asked, now on top of the wall and peering over the edge.
“Not yet,” he answered, fingers flitting over the various controls.
One of the cameras stopped on something at the bottom of the wall. “What the hell is that?” Trey gasped.
“A trosh,” Gerard answered. “Laura?”
“See it. It’s a big one.”
The camera revealed a two-hundred-pound doglike creature with six legs and extra teeth. Its skin, the color of moss-covered lead, glistened, as did its black eyes, which protruded from three-inch longs stalks.
