And for some reason, he liked the sound of that, too.
He hit the ignition switch and again was relieved when the unique star engine roared to life.
His control panels were telling him everything was good to go. Nav systems, gravity amplifiers, comm sets, flight bubbler. Weapons. Everything was reading green.
But where was he off to exactly?
It was time to find out.
He reached into his other pocket, dug down deep beneath the apples, and took out the viz-image capsule Tomm had given him on the sly back in Paradise. He looked it over quickly. It seemed to have survived the trip back from Heaven as well. He activated the device and suddenly a life-size image of Pater Tomm materialized in midair above his left wing. The diminutive monk looked younger, his hair was shorter, his cassock less ragged than in more recent times. In fact, he looked exactly the way he did when Hunter first met him about two years before.
"You are activating this for only one reason," the space monk began, getting right to the point as usual.
'Things are so bad that desperate measures have to be undertaken. Axe you still in one piece?"
"So far," Hunter replied.
The image smiled, then as a sort of inside joke, produced a flask of slowship wine and took a healthy slug. Hunter wished the holo-image — and the wine — were real. He needed a belt right now.
"I have only given this to you because I believe in your cause and fear that it might be close to being lost," Tomm's image said now. "Is this the case?"
Hunter nodded glumly. "I think that's an accurate assessment."
"And it is a question of getting help — ships, soldiers, fighters — for the cause?"
"At the very least, yes."
Tomm nodded beatifically — a strange look for him.
"Then I want you to go someplace," the monk said. "Some place few people even know exists. It is there only by one of the deepest secrets of the Galaxy. It is called simply, Far Planet. It is out on the Seven Arm."
Hunter held his hand up, stopping the image for a moment.
"The Seven Arm?" he asked. "I thought there was nothing out there."
That was certainly the prevailing opinion in the Galaxy. Of the Milky Way's nine major swirls, the seventh was thought to be the least populated, the least inhabited, the least hospitable. And because the galaxy was actually asymmetrical, it was also one of the farthest points from Earth. It was little more than a very long, very thin string of scattered stars that petered out at one of the last points that could be called part of the Milky Way. There was hardly an Empire presence much beyond the opening reaches of the place, and simply none at all a few light-years in. It was a rare occasion to encounter anyone who called the Seven Arm home. It boasted no kinds of special starship designs, no kinds of exotic foods, no particularly potent strains of slow-ship wine. Nothing.
Bottom line: no one ever went the Seven Arm, simply because there was never ever any reason to.
Or at least that was the impression Hunter had always got.
But now Tomm's image was smiling. "I guess you have to be around as long as I have to know what is real and what is not in this universe," he said. "Just get to the Seven and find Far Planet. Then activate this device again. I will instruct you further from there."
The image began to disappear, but Hunter had one last question to ask. It was an important one.
"How do I find one planet on an entire arm?" he asked. "I mean, I know there aren't many stars out there, but there are certainly still millions of them. I could be out there for years looking for this place."
Tomm smiled again, took another swig from his flask, and pretended to hand it to Hunter.
"How do you get to this place?" he asked with a wide, strange grin, pulling back the flask. "My boy, how do you get anywhere in this great big galaxy? You use a map."
And with that, the image faded for good, leaving Hunter alone once again.
Now this was a problem. His F-Machine had some maps stored in its memory, and his quadtrol did, too. But a quick check of both showed only the most rudimentary directions to the unlucky Seven, and these ended just an hour or two into the mysterious arm. What he needed was a star chart, one that was up to date. Or as up to date as something pertaining to the Seven Arm could be.
He sat still in the cockpit thinking for a moment. Then it came to him. He was still aboard the most powerful ship in the Galaxy. Even though its creator had faltered, the ShadoVox's inner workings were still vital.
Hunter leaped from his machine and ran to the nearest control bubbler; several were attached to the far wall of the hangar. He pulled out his quadtrol's extension probe and mated it with the bubbler's primary-system "blood" line. Essentially every piece of information stored aboard the mighty ship was flowing through this main line just as blood flowed through a body. Hunter tapped into the artery and commanded the quad-trol to locate and copy any star charts pertaining to the Seven Arm. It took only a few seconds for his device to literally suck the information out of the ShadoVox's memory stream.
Then he checked the time. He'd spent thirty minutes escaping from jail, saving Joxx, and now learning where he had to go. Precious time, well spent. But there was no reason to dawdle.
He ran back to his ship, climbed aboard, and restarted his power pack. His star engine once again roared to life in response. Canopy down, he raised the wheels and put the F-Machine about two feet off the deck. Then he pointed it out toward open space.
"Don't worry, Xara," he whispered. "I'll be back as soon as I can…"
He hit the throttles and was two light-years away a second later.
12
Venus was the second planet in the Galaxy to be puffed.
Only Mars had come first when the mysterious geniuses known as the Ancient Engineers set out to make first the Solar System and then the Milky Way habitable for the human race. No longer was Earth's sister planet enshrouded in thick cumulus, raining hydrochloric acid. Like Earth, its cloud cover was now just 30 percent at any given time. Also like Earth, it now had one ocean that spread around the entire planet, pole to pole. This one surrounded two massive continents and several smaller ones. One of these was the island continent of Zros.
Venus served as a very exclusive getaway for the extended Imperial Family, those known as The Specials, and for these fortunate souls, Zros was the only place to be. They owned tens of thousands of summer palaces, seaside resorts, vineyards, and spas on the island. One was called La-Shangri.
Located atop the high cliffs on the west coast of Zros, it was a three-tiered palace that literally stretched for miles. Many of its structures hung way out over the greenish pacific sea, and the local atmosphere was treated with a combination of hyacinth scent and nitrous oxide. A happy experience was guaranteed for anyone lucky enough to visit here.
This place was usually devoid of military personnel. But shortly after dawn on this dark day, the air above the resort was suddenly filled with combat vessels. One of these was a cruiser belonging to the Imperial Guards, the army whose sole purpose was the protection of the Emperor's family. It popped into view just above the highest spire of La-Shangri. A cadre of soldiers was instantly beamed out of its hold. In seconds, the palace roof was crawling with these Imperial bodyguards.
Half the guards secured the roof; the other half ran down a passageway and into the chateau's enormous function room. A huge saturnalia of Specials was in full swing here; indeed, the party had been going nonstop for days. There were more than a thousand people on hand, most of them beautiful young women. As always, the atmosphere was both sexual and dangerous.