It was close to midnight when the two shuttlecraft landed at the base of the Chesterwest mountain called Many Tears. There was a long-abandoned muster hall here. Constructed of blackwood and plastic, it was simply one big room, with no windows and just one door. Twelve men emerged from each shuttlecraft. They filed into the ancient muster building without exchanging a word, the sky above them dancing with the glow of StarScrapers being beamed up from downtown Big Bright City.
This meeting was very unauthorized. Unofficial contact between the SF and the SG without a representative from the Imperial Court on hand was considered a high crime of disloyalty. If the principals here had been caught gathering like this, they would all be executed, probably on the spot, most definitely without benefit of a trial.
Still, over the years there came times when the two opposing forces just had to talk, to settle some dispute, to smooth over some feathers. Usually the two parties sat at a table and had an orderly discussion. This time it was different.
This time it was very tense.
Zap Multx was there for the Spaces Forces; Loy Staxx was on hand as well. The most senior SF officer on hand, however, was an Army ten-star general, Skol Fyxx.
Like most SF commanders, Fyxx was a huge individual, square jaw, bald head, a few authentic body scars, and many tattoos. He was 199 years old. A veteran of countless wars, he was known throughout the Galaxy as a heroic commander and fierce strategic warrior.
On the other side there was SG First Commander Jak Dazz. Dazz was everything Fyxx was not. He was short, pudgy, free of any scars or tattoos. He was a raging egomaniac, cunning and clever in battle, but with an absolute distaste for getting his own hands dirty.
As their men lined up behind them, Fyxx and Dazz now met in the center of the musty room. Fyxx was at least three feet taller than Dazz. Someone activated a humbeam; the room was now safe from eavesdropping from anywhere in the Galaxy.
“How long has it been, Skol?” Dazz asked, his voice thick with false charm.
“Not long enough,” Fyxx replied.
Dazz looked at the line of SF officers behind his counterpart.
“Multx! You’re looking… somewhat recovered,” he said snidely. “When I heard about what happened to the Vox, I prayed that you were not among the casualties.”
Multx looked like he’d just taken a sonic blast to the chest.
“I would have prayed in the same way for you, had it been your ship attacked…”
Dazz laughed. His men laughed, too.
“Not much chance of that,” Dazz said under his breath.
He fixed his gaze on Loy Staxx now, the man who had been forced to withdraw from the Sileasian campaign.
“And you, Staxx… I’m just glad to see you up and around,” Dazz said. “I heard those punks on Vines 67 were a handful.”
Staxx was a tall, proud man of color, 214 years old, with white hair and beard. As with Multx, he took Dazz’s comment like a knife to the heart.
Fyxx took a step closer to Dazz, effectively towering over him.
“Let’s cut the nonsense,” Fyxx said with a growl. “You know why we’re all here.”
Dazz just smiled, took out an atomic cigar, and lit it up. He let the blue smoke fill the room. Then he crossed his arms against his chest and said: “Okay, this was your idea. So talk…”
Fyxx could barely restrain himself. He could have crushed Dazz like a bug at that moment, but he knew only disaster would result from that. He tried to stay calm.
“Even though it is still a state secret, you seem to know a lot about what happened to the BonoVox,” he began slowly. “Any ideas on how that Blackship managed to get into Supertime?”
Dazz just laughed again. His men did, too.
“Sure I do,” he replied.
“Really?” Fyxx asked. “Enlighten us, then…”
Dazz took a long puff of his cigar and blew the smoke just inches above Fyxx’s head.
“Well, obviously those mooks got ahold of a prop core,” Dazz said sarcastically. “And then figured out how to tap into the Big Generator.”
More laughter from the Solar Guards.
“Is that so?” Fyxx spit back at him. “And where do you think these mooks got the prop core? Did they just find it? Or did someone give it to them?”
Dazz’s features went hard very quickly. A darkness came over his face. “What are you suggesting, Fyxx?”
“I’m suggesting that it is just about impossible to come across a working prop core,” Fyxx replied. “On the other hand, if someone gave them a spare and—”
Dazz’s face turned bright crimson.
“Are you insane?” he shouted up at Fyxx. “Are you implying that we gave these mooks a prop core and then hooked them up to the Big Gee?”
Multx spoke up. He was more furious than Fyxx.
“Who else could have done it, you little ass?” he shouted at Dazz.
Dazz took two steps toward the BonoVox commander.
“Look, just because you can’t read a long-range sensor array, don’t blame us!” he roared back at Multx.
Multx exploded. “How much did you sell it to them for, you midget turncoat?”
Dazz lunged at Multx. They didn’t come to blows only because Fyxx was able to catch the smaller man in midair. Still, the knot of opposing soldiers got tighter. Hands went to weapons. Dazz’s bodyguards were gigantic; all six were more than seven feet tall and packing serious ray gun heat. They began moving toward Fyxx.
That’s when Fyxx raised his hand and effectively silenced Multx.
“Be warned to stay cool here,” he said to all. “Everyone loses if things get out of hand.”
He set Dazz back on the floor. The SG commander took a breath and readjusted his clothes, but he was still red in the face.
“Tell your boy here not to go around accusing us of treason,” he told Fyxx, pointing at Multx. He took another breath. “Now look, we don’t agree on much of anything. But you guys can’t seriously think that we’d give prop core technology to a bunch of mooks on a Blackship. It would be disloyalty of the highest order, for God’s sake! And believe me, we’re not in the business of cutting our own throats.”
Fyxx looked Dazz straight in the eye. The SG high commander was saying the right words, but was he telling the truth?
“On your Oath of Honor,” Fyxx said to him slowly. “Do you swear you know nothing about this? And that no one under your command has been involved?”
“On my father’s Oath of Honor they did not,” Dazz replied caustically. “Can you make that same statement?”
“I can,” Fyxx replied without hesitation. “I would know, just as you would know…”
A silence now descended on the room. The air of tension changed. The two dozen men realized they might have an authentic mystery on their hands here. Everyone knew that prop core technology was the second-most-guarded secret in the Empire; only the inner workings of the Big Generator were more shrouded. If the Solar Guards didn’t give the prop core technology to the crew of the Blackship, then where did they get it?
Fyxx let down his bold front for a moment. So did Dazz.
“Every working prop core in the Space Forces is accounted for,” Fyxx told him. “We checked.
Double-checked. And triple-checked. Spares, front lines, from the fringe to the Ball. We know where every one of them is.”
Dazz relit his cigar. “And so do we,” he said. “And I’m sure your poor relations in the X-Forces have done the same thing.”
So they were stumped. Another silence came over the room. It lasted for more than a minute.