Galens blade, p.1
Galen's Blade, page 1
GALEN’S BLADE
A Starquest 4th Age Adventure
Book #2
By Richard Paolinelli
GALEN’S BLADE
A Starquest 4th Age Adventure
Book #2
© 2022 Richard Paolinelli/Tuscany Bay Books
All rights reserved. No part of the content of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system, or copied by any technology yet to be developed without the prior written permission of the author. You may not circulate this book in any format with author’s permission. This is a work of fiction. All characters in this work are fictitious and not intended to resemble any living person.
ISBN: 9798804143061
ASIN: B09M2W5JM2
Book cover: Bookcoverzone.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
This one is for you, Dad.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
STARQUEST BOOKS | 4th AGE
STARQUEST PRE-MIGRATION
GALEN’S BLADE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER BOOKS BY RICHARD PAOLINELLI
SCIENCE FICTION/FANTASY NOVELS | FROM TUSCANY BAY BOOKS
This one is for you, Dad.
JOHN DAVID PAOLINELLI
1943-2021
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like once again to convey my gratitude to John C. Wright, who created the Starquest Universe and gracefully opened it up to any author who wanted to come along and play in his sandbox. As well as his lovely wife, and talented author in her own right, L. Jagi Lamplighter Wright, for being Starquest central for all of us.
STARQUEST BOOKS
4th AGE
#1: Galen’s Way (2021)
#2: Galen’s Blade (2022)
#3: Rhea’s Heart (Coming 2023)
STARQUEST PRE-MIGRATION
#1: Ranger (Coming Winter-2022/23)
GALEN’S BLADE
A Starquest Fourth Age Adventure
Book #2
Richard Paolinelli
CHAPTER ONE
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Aw shut yer yap, Smerg,” Ailden Cloo snapped from the pilot’s chair, keeping a sharp eye out the forward viewport at the Alliance ships hanging in space only a few kilometers away.
He needed to keep their ship, an old rust bucket ironically called, Silver Bird, hugging close to a tumbling asteroid so the fleet would not spot them, while also being able to keep said fleet in sight. The last thing he needed right now was to listen to Smerg’s nervous, non-stop chattering. The more nervous Smerg felt, the more he chattered and the gloomier his chatter became.
“I’m just saying this is a bad idea,” Smerg replied, his voice taking on another octave of gloom that made Cloo’s left eye twitch.
“It’s not a bad idea at all,” a voice boomed out from behind them. The ship’s Captain, Banarbee J’lan, stepped onto the flight deck in time to hear the exchange. “They say over a hundred ships were destroyed in the battle here, m’boys. I guarantee there’s going to be a small fortune in salvage for the first crew on site which, it just so happens, will be us.”
“And that fleet out there,” Smerg pointed out gloomily.
“Those five ships?” J’lan snorted dismissively. “They’re just looking for the classified stuff. As soon as they get that they’ll be out of here like a shot. There’ll be plenty left over for us. We might even be able to make two salvage runs before anyone else from The Wilds even hears about this and arrives to scavenge the site.”
“I’m not seeing any debris out there that equals a hundred ships,” Smerg tried to add another layer of dark gloom to the deck but his shipmates weren’t having it.
“That’s because we can’t turn our scanners on, you skrill,” Cloo barked. “Unless you want that fleet to come over here and blast us into dust. Honestly, why do you keep him on as crew, J’lan?”
“Because. My boy,” J’lan clapped a hand on Cloo’s shoulder, “our friend here is the best scavenger in the Wilds. I swear, you can toss him in a pile of rusty metal and sewage and he’ll stumble back out clean as a whistle and with a pile of jewels in his hands. Griping the entire time of course, but filthy rich all the same.”
“I’d be willing to trade off some riches for a little peace and quiet,” Cloo grumbled, not wanting to admit aloud that the Captain had a point. Movement beyond the viewport caught his attention before he could continue. “Well, I’ll be damned...”
“What did I tell you boys,” J’lan crowed as he watched the ships suddenly dart away, heading back at high speed toward the heart of the Alliance, abandoning the battlefield to the undetected scavengers from The Wilds. “Let’s give them a few minutes to get out of range and then let’s go get ourselves filthy rich...”
“ ‘FILTHY RICH’ HE SAID,” Cloo muttered under his breath as they completed what he counted as the two hundred and sixth sweep of the battle site that had so far failed to turn up anything salvageable. “We’ve been at this for days now and nothing more than blackened slag to show for it.”
“I knew there was no way those Alliance ships were going to leave anything of value behind,” Smerg remarked, gloomily of course. Cloo’s left eye was permanently twitching now.
“Maybe you could have shared that insight with the rest of us before we wasted all this time farming space dust,” Cloo growled.
“I did,” Smerg replied. “No one ever listens to me.”
Cloo felt his right eye begin to twitch in rhythm with the left.
“That’s because,” J’lan broke in, having come up from behind, unnoticed by either man, “you’re never right when it comes to where to go looking for treasure.”
“We haven’t found anything larger than a pebble so far,” Cloo pointed out. “He might be right this time.”
“You two give up way too easy,” J’lan scoffed. “There’s no way in any hell those Alliance ships gathered everything up from a battle that size.”
“And yet,” Cloo fired back with a sweep of his hand, “all we see is empty space.”
“That’s because we’re looking in the wrong area,” J’lan said confidently. “Head toward that asteroid field over there and I’ll wager my cut of the next ten hauls that we’ll find plenty to salvage there.”
“Assuming we don’t get ourselves blown up by running into one of those big rocks,” Smerg added.
“Cloo will just have to make sure we don’t run into anything,” J’lan retorted. “Now, set course for the field and let’s go find ourselves some money.”
With a sigh, Cloo brought the ship about and eased into the field while Smerg hoovered over the scanner, looking for a trace of anything other than dust, rocks and vacuum. It was nerve-wracking work, which did not improve the twitching in Cloo’s eyes any more than it did Smerg’s mood. Nor did the occasional loud ‘thump’ that echoed through their ship whenever an asteroid grazed the outer hull a little too hard for comfort.
They were nearly out of the field when Cloo opened his mouth to pronounce yet another failure. He was surprised to hear a strident beeping noise instead of his voice.
“Cap’n,” Smerg announced, actually excited for once, “we’re getting a strong reading to port. It’s definitely metallic and has an energy signature.”
“That’s more like it!” J’lan boomed out. “Get us over there, Cloo, and we’ll see what kind of a pretty our good ol’ Smerg has found for us this time.”
It took a bit of doing, especially when Cloo had to squeeze the ship between two tumbling asteroids with absolutely no room to spare, but the Silver Bird made it through and eased up to the source of the scanner’s reading.
“Will you look at that,” J’lan whistled softly at the sight. “That’s a personal flier. Only a wealthy person with a lot of clout flies one of those. We’ve hit the jackpot boys.”
Anchored in a small crater of an asteroid tumbling much slower than the others nearby, the small ship had taken some damage. An angry electrical burn scarred the ship’s starboard hull from just above the engine compartment to the main hatch. But overall the ship appeared to be intact.
“Power levels are low,” Smerg reported as he viewed his scanner’s output. “But there is life support and the engines can be made operational with minimal repairs.”
“Any life signs?”
“Nothing showing, Cap’n,” Smerg replied. “But if there were just one person aboard and they were injured, they might not show up on the scan.”
“Likely whoever was on that ship is as dead as a Lifhessian Whore House on Westeria’s Holy Day,” J’lan concluded. “Which makes this pretty a legal salvage. Bring us in for docking, Cloo. I want to be inside that ship in thirty minutes. Smerg, I want those engines up and running at full power before the day is out.”
J’lan clapped his hands together as he left the deck, already counting up the riches this prize was going to bring. Cloo gentl
With two minutes to spare in J’lan’s deadline, the port sealed itself to the flier’s hatch. After making sure the pressure on both sides of the hatch had equalized, J’lan cracked it open and stepped inside the crippled ship.
The interior was dimly lit, but there was enough illumination to make out burns similar to the one on the outside of the hull. Only these were smaller in size and had laced through the interior in every direction. The sharp smell of ozone filled the air, the ship’s life support unable to remove the odor. Aside from the men’s footsteps, there was very little noise. Even at low power there was always a steady background noise in any ship. But this was not the case in this one.
“It’s as quiet as a grave in here,” Smerg said, his voice trembling a little. J’lan thought to hush the man, but he had to admit the scene was a little unnerving, even for the bravest of men.
“That’s enough,” J’lan settled on admonishing lightly. “Smerg, head down to the engine compartment and get this wreck operational. Cloo and I will work our way forward and check the passenger cabin and flight deck. The damage doesn’t look too bad. If we’re lucky, we may not even have to tow it back to the Wilds. Let’s get to work and get out of here before anyone else shows up to claim it.”
Smerg quickly headed aft down the corridor toward the engines. J’lan and Cloo checked the nearest compartment, which turned out to be storage and filled with foodstuffs, water, liquor and a few other creature comforts. J’lan decided they’d load these goodies aboard their own ship and eat like kings for a few weeks.
With a nod to Cloo, J’lan headed forward and encountered the main passenger suite. This time it was Cloo’s turn to whistle in appreciation.
“Nothing but the finest for our late owner,” J’lan agreed as he took in the room. Aside from a few small items scattered on the floor – probably when the ship was struck by whatever had caused the burns – the place was a small palace. Lavishly decorated with the finest materials, crystal and a few antiques sure to bring a pretty price when they sold the lot, J’lan realized they’d hit the prize of prizes.
“We’re rich,” Cloo whispered.
“Not yet,” J’lan corrected sharply. “Not until we get this crate back into the Wilds and sell it. Let’s get up to the bridge. The sooner we get going the less likely some Alliance do-gooder will come along and muck everything up.”
With a nudge to get the gawking Cloo moving. J’lan exited the suite and continued forward. The acrid ozone smell in the air increased with every step they took. Stepping into the ship’s small, dimly lit flight deck Cloo was tempted to whistle again. Burns scarred every console, lancing across the overhead and down to the deck below their feet.
Despite the damage, the consoles still appeared to be functional. J’lan stepped down to take one of the two seats and was surprised to see one of them occupied by what appeared to be a very well-singed corpse.
All visible skin was blackened, the hair on the head burned away so that the scalp showed the angry scars where the fingers of electricity had laced across the skin. The corpse’s clothing was burned and torn in several places. The smell of burned skin worsened as J’lan moved closer.
“Guess we won’t have to worry about the owner claiming this derelict,” Cloo remarked, his nose wrinkling slightly as he caught of whiff of burned flesh. “He’s well and truly cooked.”
“Well cooked indeed,” the corpse whispered hoarsely, “but not quite dead yet.”
“By the gods!” J’lan shrieked in surprise, stumbling back into the empty seat. Cloo took a full two steps back before catching himself from bolting the bridge in terror.
“Perhaps it was the gods who did this to me,” the corpse chuckled around a raspy inhale of breath, slightly tilting its head painfully in J’lan’s direction. “But I am not quite dead just yet, gentlemen.”
“What happened here?” J’lan managed to choke out.
“That is a good question,” the charred man replied. “I would very much like to know where my friend got his hands on that device that destroyed my entire fleet. More importantly, I’d like to know if there are any others like it lying about.
“But first,” he continued after weathering a pause-inducing round of hacking coughs, “I need time to heal and to gather up my resources. Then I have some scores to settle and you gentlemen can help me with that.”
“How,” J’lan asked, “and better yet, why, should we help you?”
“Because you want to claim my ship as salvage,” the corpse chuckled. “Very well. The ship is yours without dispute in exchange for taking me back into the Wilds, where you clearly come from. I have contacts there that can help me. Plus, if you decide to work for me I can guarantee you even more riches than this humble ship of mine.
“Do we have an agreement, gentlemen?” he concluded, cocking an eye at them.
“How much more “riches” are we talking about?” Cloo asked.
“You can’t count that high,” the man replied with a knowing grin that looked more like a grimace in his current state.
“Then we have an agreement, Mr...?” J’lan paused.
“Harmool,” the burned man replied. “My name is Adalwin Harmool. Former Court Chamberlain of Salacia and soon to be Emperor of the Explored Galaxy. With your help of course, gentlemen.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Regent Neasa?”
“Chancellor Nepat,” Rhiannon greeted as she turned away from the Elician Ambassador she’d just finished speaking with. With the Senate session concluded, she was anxious to depart from Taygeta and return home to Salacia. She had hoped to keep any post-session meetings to a minimum. The Chancellor of the Alliance however rated such a meeting. “It seems affairs are finally getting back into order for you and the Alliance.”
“Indeed they are, Regent,” Napat replied with a small bow. “With no small amount of credit due to your efforts and those of Galen Dwyn I hasten to add. Is there any improvement in his condition.”
“The medicos all tell me that his body is fully healed as far as they can tell. But it has been six lunes now and he simply hasn’t woken up yet. They don’t want to force the issue, but he can’t stay like that forever.”
“I would be more than happy to send our best healers to consult with yours,” Napat offered. “Perhaps there is a way not yet considered.”
“Thank you, I would appreciate that very much,” Rhiannon replied. “And thank you for reinstating Galen back into the Bata’van and removing the warrant for his arrest.”
“It was the least I could do for him, considering what he’d done for the Alliance. Of course, not all of my military leaders are happy about it. A few want him arrested anyway. I suspect more than a few are still somewhat afraid of him, and the Bata’van as a general rule hate being afraid of anyone or anything.
“Has there been any word on the search for your father?” Napat asked, changing the subject.
“Not yet,” she shook her head sadly. “We have people searching on nearly every planet in the Alliance. But so far no sign of him has been found, nor can we seem to find any of Harmool’s allies. He surely must have had people everywhere. If we could locate just one of them we might be able to find some clue of where he took my father.”
“I take it your mother and your uncle are not being cooperative?”
“No. The price they ask for whatever they know – if they know anything at all – is their freedom. I cannot risk turning them loose to wreak havoc on the Alliance again, not even for my father.”
“I find myself in agreement with your assessment,” Napat nodded. “My people are also working on the problem, with orders to keep their eyes and ears open for any scrap of information regarding the King. We’ll keep looking, and we’ll find him, no matter how long it takes.
“But for now,” he glanced over her shoulder, “it appears some old friends of yours would like a word with you. Unfortunately, duty calls me to another meeting with the Senate’s Security Committee. If you will excuse me?”
