Starhawk (34 page)

There was no ceremony aboard the Q-ship. The top officers of the 36 were lined up in the cargo hold; Brother Michael was stripped before them. A machine was brought in that had the ability to encase things in burned glass, the exact same device that had trapped Emperor Jimmy. But turning Michael into a twenty-second piece of pyrotechnics was not the plan here. His fate would be worse.

They began the encasement process. Michael was clearly terrified.

"
What did he promise you
?" he screamed as the glass was wrapping around his feet.

"Only what is ours," one officer told him. "The thirty-six original regions of Mother Earth, our homes before you came on the scene. We just wanted our planet back. He's given it to us."

The encasement process was sped up, and Michael was quickly surrounded by the crystal prison. The plan now was to simply open the loading door and give him a push, via an ion-depleted high explosive. He would be sent on a trajectory leading into a particularly empty part of space, through which his glass coffin would travel for eons, with him trapped inside, alive, for eternity.

But even as he was being shot out of the spaceship, it was clear that Michael was laughing—and shouting something, but no one on hand could make out just what.

No one except Hunter. He and Joxx were standing nearby.

"What is he saying?" Joxx asked him. "I'm sure you must know."

Hunter nodded somberly. This was where it all started to go downhill.

"He's saying, 'What makes you think my younger brother will be any better than me?' "

Flash!

They were back on Earth.

The site was the huge plaza that fronted, ironically enough, the huge orange hall where the Second Empire's biggest parties and events were held.

The plaza was now filled with troops. The top echelon of the 36 Coalition, including the thirty-six original officers themselves, stood in formation on one side of the square. Each officer was holding the flag of his region of Earth, the unfurled reminder of how things once were in the peaceful days of the First Empire.

Across the plaza stood another army of troops. These were soldiers who had fought with Michael, but now that the dictator was gone, they had sworn an oath to Michael's younger brother, the new emperor of the Second Empire.

The Galaxy was at peace again, thanks to the men taking up the right side of the square. The thirty-six officers of the victorious Coalition were roundly saluted. A hovering table weighed down by medals hung nearby.

Hunter and Joxx were standing at the rear of the formation of second-tier Coalition commanders. They were turned out in resplendent green space uniforms, with beret-style hats and ceremonial pistols in their holsters.

A huge communication speaker had been set up in the middle of the plaza, with the soldiers standing facing each other on either side. Through this, a speech began. There was no doubt the speaker was the brother of Michael and Jimmy. His voice echoed in everyone's ears. He had a thick accent, but his words came out measured, almost dreamily. There was no cheering, no adrenaline-fueled electricity. He spoke, and the plaza—the whole of Earth and the Galaxy itself—hung on his every word. He spoke of peace and tranquillity and the need for citizens of the realm not to fight against each other. He spoke of new technologies that had arrived with him, including what would become the theory of Supertime, incomprehensibly fast travel in the seventh dimension and the mysterious Big Generator from which all power throughout the Galaxy would come.

There was only one detail left to be done, the new Emperor told his new Empire. The men of the 36 Coalition had to be given their just rewards for what they had done in expelling his brother Michael from the ultimate seat of power.

With much drama, the original thirty-six men stepped forward—and were immediately shot down by troops standing on the opposite side of the square. Then their second-tier officers were mowed down as well.

Joxx grabbed Hunter's sleeve as the death rays carved into the ranks of those who had saved the Earth from Michael's return. If a gasp could be heard from one end of the Galaxy to the other, then this was it. The act was incomprehensible—at least at first.

The officer next to Joxx hastily took off his helmet and then removed a mind ring he'd been wearing underneath it.

He pressed it into Joxx's hands and said: "Don't let anyone forget what happened here."

Flash!

Now came the part that Hunter
really
disliked.

It was dark. Very dark. Pitch black dark, like one's eyeballs would never be able to see the light again. Any light. Ever.

Then there was the smell. Horrendous. The air, thick with a merciless stink. But worst of all, was the crying. The moaning. The wailing. All of this mixed in with the racket of huge engines, which Hunter knew were no more than a bulkhead away from him at that moment.

None of this was real—he had to keep telling himself that. But as bad as this was for Hunter to endure, it was a nightmare for Joxx.

The fastidious SG officer was so horrified by the rank-ness of this part of the ring trip, he cried out in disgust. Trouble was, no one heard him or, more accurately, no one paid him any attention. His bellow was lost in a sea of tears.

As Hunter would tell him later, there were 13,621 passengers aboard this vile, all-green vessel. It was flight #28,612 for this particular starship, and it was part of a fleet of more than 10,000 identically built ships. They all had the same function: moving the unlucky citizens of Earth off their mother world and toward the prison star system known as the Home Planets. All this, per order of the newest Emperor of the Second Empire.

Hunter was strapped into a small, cramped, hovering bunk; Joxx was in a similar bunk beside him. The crush of humanity around them was so claustrophobic, it was nearly overwhelming. This was nothing like being squeezed into the cockpit of his fighter jet for long periods of time. This was not being able to see where you were or where you were going. This was not being able to move more than two inches from side to side or up or down, all while being in very close proximity with thousands of people who were just as terrified as you were.

Even more stomach-churning were the bone-shattering yaws and pitches the prison ship would take at the most unpredictable times. No scream from the engines just a few feet away, no sensation of velocity loss. Just a wild turn, a wild drop. People would cry. People would vomit. Some would die. The g-forces were sometimes unbearable.

Hunter began telescoping the mind ring trip at this point. As always, he wanted Joxx to learn his lessons the hard way. But a few minutes in this stinkpot provided a lifetime of education on the subject. So at this point, he'd hit the fast-forward button again.

There was another yaw, another pitch, and then the vessel came to a bone-crushing stop. This sudden end to forward motion inflicted an acute case of space bends on some of the unprotected passengers, a serious, painful, debilitating experience that could kill those already weakened or advanced in age. And this ship didn't need any more death. As it was, there were more than a thousand dead bodies riding this nightmare along with the living.

The ship seemed to hover for a moment, then started moving sharply downward. Lying still, anticipating each event of the miserable experience, Hunter knew exactly what was happening outside. They were landing. He also knew that what he was living here were the last remembrances of someone who'd passed on shortly after thinking these thoughts and putting them down as one last memory. For him, it was like walking in a dead man's boots or wearing a dead man's coat.

Flash!

The ship had landed.

Hunter and Joxx were roused from their bunks and herded together with several hundred people, still in complete darkness.

They found themselves being marched down a narrow passageway, pushed along by the enormous guards who smelled as bad as they did. The passageway stretched to the far end of the ship, nearly a quarter mile away. The gigantic soldiers were roughly moving them all along, using their rifle butts to hit the head of anyone who dared stop or even look up for more than a moment or two.

Joxx was next to Hunter; they were shackled by hand and foot to about a dozen other people. Their tiny group made its way to the light at the end of the passageway. But whereas one would have thought the sounds ahead would be those of relief to actually see other than darkness again, all that could be heard up here was more wailing. Finally, Hunter and Joxx and the dozen other unfortunates reached the opening and found what this new misery was about.

The ship had set down on a tiny little planet with a bright red sun and very few stars in its sky. Five huge space-dock gantries were visible next to a huge military base. A large city stood beyond, with buttes and mesas stretching off into the horizon. Everything here seemed to be a bit yellow.

This was Xronis Trey. The way station. The processing point. As it once was.

For Hunter, the circle had become complete again ... for the thirty-seventh time.

But Joxx still had much to learn.

They were led down a ramp, and at this point, some of those shackled to them lost their footing. The chain snapped, and all but three people in their group were dragged down the gangplank, bloody and battered. A woman and her two daughters were the only people now connected to Hunter and Joxx. The two girls were just in their teens and were clinging to Joxx now, even as he was trying to stay on his own feet.

Somehow, their little group reached the bottom of the gangway. Here they found another phalanx of huge soldiers in unmarked uniforms. They were holding ray sticks, which were used like electric prods. Anyone not moving fast enough down the tarmac was jolted by the mere touch of these instruments, some to great injury, others even to death.

Hunter and Joxx and their group managed to move fast enough for the cruel guards. They were pushed along into a larger stream of people moving along the hot, dusty runway. Wails and cries mixed with the screaming wind of Xronis Trey. The woman holding onto Joxx was nearly in rags, feet cut and sore, mouth dry from no water or food. She was so hysterical she couldn't speak. The same for her teenage girls. They were holding on so tightly to Joxx, he was becoming very nervous. Another part of Hunter's plan.

Finally, they reached the huge processing station. Here each person was stopped, quickly unshackled, and told to strip off their clothes. Anyone who hesitated had their clothes ripped off them and then was beaten as well. Anyone with baggage had it confiscated on the spot. Everyone was then body-searched and handed the drab prison garment. Joxx's personality was not one to take such brutality easily, and he unwisely chose to resist the guards searching him. He was slammed to the floor and kicked all the way to the next stop in the processing station for his action.

When the guards finally departed to beat someone else, Hunter helped Joxx to his feet. It was here that the woman's wails grew ungodly. She was clutching so tightly to Joxx, her knuckles were bone white. The same for the two girls. There was so much crying and orders being shouted and general chaos, it was impossible to speak or hear. It became a little piece of Hell. And that's when something inside Joxx just snapped. In that instant, he changed. He put his arms around the three weeping females and pulled them close to him, protecting them from the madness.

"Don't worry," he told them softly. "I'll take care of you."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, two enormous guards in red uniforms appeared. Without a word, they began pulling the two girls from Joxx's grasp.

The girls began screaming again. More guards appeared. Other girls nearby were being carried away, terrified by whatever awaited them. These two with Hunter and Joxx were going to be next.

Joxx began fighting viciously now. Using the broken end of the shackles as a weapon, he hit guards across their faces, their stomachs, their groins with the heavy metal chain. The girls were wailing at full pitch as Joxx fought with more than a dozen guards. But in the end, it was no use. More guards arrived, and the two girls were literally picked up and carried away, never to be seen again. Their mother collapsed on the floor, a heap of wailing and tears.

Joxx went nuts. He whirled around with a fever in his eyes, selected the nearest guard, and descended on him like a madman. He was able to knock the soldier to the ground and began battering him with his chains without mercy. The guard fought back tenaciously as the deportees scattered, but Joxx did not let up. He was pounding the man's face with one hand and tearing at his clothes with the other. Hunter watched the beating without moving a muscle. Joxx managed to rip the man's helmet from his head and started beating his skull into the floor. Blood began splattering and then some pieces of scalp. A world of frustration was gushing out of Joxx now. Unfortunately for this guard, he was on the receiving end of the long overdue psychological purge.

Hunter counted down ten seconds and then saw a squad of soldiers making their way toward the disturbance. Another half dozen soldiers were heading at them from a different direction. A searchlight blinked on from somewhere; its strong beam quickly focused on Joxx. Inside the huge assembly building, holding tens of thousands of people and hundreds of guards, all attention was now riveted on Joxx as he continued beating the daylights out of the unconscious soldier.

The two squads of guards arrived at about the same time. Still Joxx did not let up. The soldiers turned their electric prods on him. He was poked and zapped and beaten with the sticks, but he did not stop his pummeling. Finally, the soldiers drew out their huge blasters.

One guard raised his weapon and put it right to the back of Joxx's head.

He began to pull the trigger....

Freeze!

Their location did not change. They were still in the same holding area and the guards were still just a microsecond away from blowing Joxx's head off.