StarHawk (19 page)

Big Bright City

The night was filled with color.

StarScrapers were lighting up the sky. Big Bright City seemed brighter than ever. The stars shimmered with increased intensity.

Hunter was sitting on the balcony of his new dwelling, looking out on the night of light and counting down the minutes until his new adventure would begin.

On the table in front of him was a package from Xara. It was waiting for him when he returned from his commissioning ceremony and the brief celebration that followed. During that time he had not been able to talk to her; it was important at this stage to keep their alliance secret.

Inside the package he found an ancient star map. It showed a part of the Galaxy so isolated, so uncharted, Xara’s accompanying note indicated that no one was sure of its exact location. It was, however, in the Fifth Arm, one of the most remote parts of the Outer Fringe, a place very,
very
far from Earth. This, Xara’s note said, was where the ancient scientists postulated that the VLR/VSA beam that hit the Mars polar lander originated.

Then she dropped a bomb: She had been able to pull some strings and arrange that his first mission would be to this very uncharted part of the Galaxy, Fifth Arm, Outer Fringe.

In other words, she was enabling him to go off in search of who he was while serving his commission with the Empire at the same time. It seemed the best of all worlds.

Also included in the package was a poem dating back to the Second Empire—indeed, it was as old as the map itself. The poem was written in the very archaic language that few people in the Galaxy spoke anymore. However, Xara wrote him, they both knew a man who would be able to translate it. This mutual friend would soon be at Hunter’s door.

She had finished her note with some verse of her own. The passage caught him by surprise; its sentiments came right out of the blue.

It might take you a million years

to find out what you need
.

But that is fine with me. We both have nothing but

time. I’ll await your return and your touch
.

And even if it be those million years
,

I will be waiting still
.

Hunter had read the poem probably a hundred times by now, and it never failed to get him right in the throat. He looked up at the stars now, just coming into view as the sun finally set. The next morning he would leave for the farthest part of the Galaxy, to try to find out who he was. Yet at the same time, the sweet words from Xara made him wonder if
Earth
wasn’t the place he should be. Was it wise to leave the person regarded as the most beautiful girl in the Galaxy to search for something that was quite possibly unattainable? At the
opposite end
of that Galaxy?

He didn’t know.

A soft beeping at his door broke these thoughts. Hunter instructed the door to open. A slight, graying figure shuffled inside.

It was Calandrx.

They greeted each other warmly. Hunter was delighted to see the elderly pilot, their first meeting since the conclusion of the Earth Race.

As usual, Calandrx was all smiles.

“I got a message from a mutual friend,” he said mysteriously. “Said I could be of some help to you—but I think she had something else in mind as well. I think she knew I would like to see you before you left. I know well the anticipation of getting one’s first assignment.”

Hunter poured them some slow-ship wine, and they walked out to the balcony. The sky was absolutely filled with colorful StarScrapers now.

“Beautiful as always,” Calandrx said, gazing at the display. “But in the end these StarScrapers are just playthings of the rich. Just like the Earth Race, something to keep the Specials and the Very Fortunates happy while people like you are out there among the stars doing what’s really important.”

They did a quick toast and sipped their wine.

“You’ve been given quite a ship, I hear,” Calandrx said.

“It’s a J-Class,” Hunter told him. “The
AeroVox
…”

“Yes, highly regarded,” Calandrx said. “It is not only a fast ship, it also is said to be endowed with tremendous good luck.”

Hunter drank his wine a little quicker. “It better be,” he said.

“Ten thousand special ops troops,” Calandrx went on. “Plus educators, scholars, diplomats. Medical people. You will be carrying both power
and
knowledge—those two things combined can outdo any warship in the Space Forces or the Solar Guards any day.”

Hunter drank his wine. “I hope you’re right,” he said.

They were quiet for a while.

Then Hunter asked: “How many are there? Planets, I mean?”

Calandrx thought for a moment.

“I don’t think anyone really knows,” he mused. “Hundreds of billions, certainly. Maybe even trillions. The number is changing all the time. They say that on average a planet is destroyed by some catastrophic event every hour of every day. Star collisions, collisions with asteroids, volcano orgies. Luckily most of them are known about way in advance, so evacuations can be undertaken.”

He slurped his drink.

“But beyond that, there still are many planets out there that are uncharted, unknown, forgotten since the fall of the last Empire. Indeed, it’s a major undertaking by this one to recount them all—and then reclaim them all. Like it or not, that’s what you’ll be doing out there.”

He thought a moment.

“The last Dark Age was relatively brief. Only two hundred years or so. The Specials have been reclaiming everything for the past six hundred years, the fastest rate of recovery ever.”

He looked back up at the sky. “But I’m sure a few billion planets up there are still lost in the shuffle.”

He swept his arm across the sky, indicating the thousands of Empire ships hovering near Big Bright City in all directions.

“And that’s what this is all about. Trying to build it all up once more—just so it can fall again.”

The sky began turning vivid orange, then red, then yellow. Thousands of beams of fantastically bright light were shooting up from the city now, aimed at the infinity of the gathering night sky.

They could hear cheering coming from below.

“The Empire is reclaiming what they think belongs to them,” Calandrx said. “Though I’m not so sure all of its subjects—on all those planets—quite agree. But the Empire is an unstoppable force. At least today it is.”

Calandrx took another sip of wine.

“But politics aside, there is untold wonder out there,” he said. “The things I’ve seen. The things you’re about to see…”

“But if it’s so grand,” Hunter asked, “why have three fallen before it?”

“Like everyone else, I can only hazard a guess,” Calandrx replied. “That said, I believe I know what happened to the Second Empire—and probably the Third as well. They grew too big too fast, and events simply overtook them. Vast empires run mostly on luck and the weather anyway; each one reaches a point where inevitably things get shaken up, usually about two hundred years in. That’s what fascinates me. At the moment, the Fourth Empire is nearing its six hundredth year of growth. That tells me one thing: When the time comes for it to crash, it is going to be a hell of a noise.”

They refilled their wine goblets.

“I almost forgot,” Calandrx said. “I have a present for you.”

He reached into his pocket, came out with a small box, and handed it to him. Hunter recognized it right away. It was a twenty-and-six capsule.

“My flying machine?” he asked the elderly pilot.

“I thought you might want to take it along with you,” Calandrx nodded. “It probably will come in handy out there.”

Hunter examined the capsule. Even now, after everything he’d gone through, he was still amazed by the technology behind hiding things in the twenty-sixth dimension.

“Can
anything
be put in a twenty and six?” he asked.

“Well, just about
anything
,” Calandrx replied. “I mean, not a whole Starcrasher—there
is
a limit. In fact, I heard once that one of the reasons why Starcrashers are built so big is so they can’t be smuggled around in a twenty and six. Imagine the possibilities if they could!”

Hunter studied the capsule. “Interesting…” he murmured.

“And thanks. I appreciate it. When I left Fools 6 I never thought I’d see my machine again.”

Calandrx laughed. “My God—now it’s as famous as you,” he said, adding with a conspiratorial wink,

“And in my opinion it’s best that you keep secret what really drives the thing. I mean, someone could shove a truth stick in my navel and I still couldn’t explain why you’re able to go so damn fast in the thing.

But I think it’s safe to say that you tapped into something no one else had realized before—or maybe was too ignorant to exploit.”

“Even with a truth stick thus inserted, I couldn’t tell anyone either what the secret is,” Hunter confessed.

“I just hooked up those boxes I salvaged. It was a random event. I probably couldn’t do it the same way exactly again if I tried.”

Calandrx looked up at him. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, my friend, it’s that there’s no such thing in the universe as a truly ‘random event.’ Not in this universe, anyway.”

More wine was poured.

“Our mutual friend’s request notwithstanding, I actually came for another reason,” Calandrx revealed.

“More out of curiosity than anything else.”

“Details of the Earth Race?” Hunter asked.

“Do you mind telling me?”

“Not at all,” Hunter replied. “At least those I can remember.”

He went on to tell Calandrx of his bizarre encounters within the three blue screens, from the giant teeth of the first to the unexplainable events of the second to the absolute astonishment of the third.

Calandrx’s eyes seemed to go wider with every word.

“You saw the Blackship?” he asked incredulously. “And it was being followed by a round craft? That’s the most fantastic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“ ‘Followed’ or chased,” Hunter said. “Such an event is not typical of what a blue screen usually holds, I assume?”

Calandrx was almost too chilled to speak. “You assume right, my brother,” he said, rapidly gulping his wine now. “And I think it’s prudent that we hush about all this right now. This wonderful place you have here doesn’t comes with a hum beam, does it?”

Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said.

Calandrx put a finger to his own lips. “Then let’s talk more about this when we meet again. And I think it best you keep these visions to yourself. If they persist in your memory, that will mean something. If they fade, that will mean something else. Do you get my drift?”

Hunter quickly poured them some more wine.

“Bingo,” he said.

They toasted again. Calandrx half drained his glass, then said: “You made a wise if surprising choice by joining the Exploratory service. The things I’m sure you’re about to see, out there. I really envy you.”

Hunter took a healthy gulp of his wine as well.

“The truth is, I have my ulterior motives,” he said.

The gleam came back to Calandrx’s eye. “Really? That’s my cup of tea,” he said. “Can you share them?”

Hunter recounted his adventures with each of the Imperial Family, with the most elaboration coming from his time spent with Princess Xara on Mars. Calandrx was alternately amazed and amused by Hunter’s adventures in the past few days.

“My God,” he said. “When I won the damn race all they gave me was a house in the woods! The Empress certainly didn’t flirt with me!”

Calandrx spotted Mars just rising above the horizon.

“And I certainly had not heard of this spacecraft stuck in the ice up there,” he said. “That’s a fascinating bit of history the Specials have managed to keep from the rest of us.”

“This is my plan,” Hunter said. “If I can find out who sent the VLR/VSA scan down to that frozen wreck, I think I’ll be well on my way to finding out who the hell I am.”

Calandrx clinked his wine goblet against Hunter’s.

“Such a noble quest!” he declared. “And one that’s wrapped in your own machinations—as well as those of a beautiful woman. I love it! Is there some way I can help?”

“There certainly is,” Hunter replied. “In fact, I think that’s why you are here.”

Hunter unfurled the ancient map on the table in front of them.

“Does this look at all familiar to you?” he asked Calandrx.

The elderly pilot studied the map closely. After several minutes he began shaking his head.

“Nope,” he said. “Nothing on here looks familiar. Why? Where did you get this?”

“From Xara,” he said. “Along with this…”

He handed Calandrx a copy of the ancient poem.

“She thought you might be able to make sense of it, maybe even translate it,” Hunter told him.

Calandrx refilled his own glass, then began reading the poem, half out loud.

“Well, this is a semifamous piece from the Second Empire poet warrior Xylanx,” he said. “It’s called a  ‘war poem.’ They were quite the rage back then. Apparently many of the age’s most prominent warriors wrote about their exploits in verse, as a way of preserving them to an oral tradition that would carry on if and when the Empire collapsed—which it did, of course.”

He read some more. “Loosely translated, the title is: ‘For Those Who Are Searching… or more like,

‘The Search for the Lost Souls.’ It is widely believed to be Xylanx’s retelling of a local legend he came across during a campaign at the other end of the Milky Way.”

“A legend?”

Calandrx nodded. “Xylanx often did that,” he replied. “He would hear a myth popular among people in very isolated parts of the Empire and convert it into verse. Again, as a means of preserving a history of the times.”

Hunter felt his heart sink. What kind of directions could he get from a poem written about something that never happened?

It was as if Calandrx read his mind.

“Now, that doesn’t mean none of this is true,” he said. “On the contrary, all myths have some basis in reality. But they are usually distorted again and again over the ages.”