BlackStar: BlackStar Trilogy, #1

By Douglas Rawdon

HITLER WAS JUST A PUPPET

   Peace in the galaxy is shattered when a mysterious enemy, known only as the BlackStar, launches its brutal reign of terror, culminating in the theft of the galaxy's most destructive weapons.

   The Interplanetary Coalition dispatches undercover military operatives ‑ a few select Guardsmen ‑ to infiltrate the BlackStar. These agents are the only hope the Coalition has to extinguish the new threat.

   Just as the Coalition is on the brink of collapse, The Colonel, an undercover operative, suspects where the BlackStar will strike next. But when his identity is discovered and his fiancée is abducted, The Colonel arrives too late to stop the BlackStar from achieving their next goal.

   The Colonel and the Guardsmen follow the BlackStar as they flee. Strange misfortune occurs as their battling starships are drawn into a powerful wormhole.

   When The Colonel and his Guardsmen regain consciousness, they realize their damaged starship is in orbit around an uncharted planet. They soon discover the primitive planet is called Earth and that the BlackStar crash‑landed somewhere below.

   Stranded on Earth in the pre‑WWII era, the BlackStar plans to employ Hitler and his militaristic ideals to conquer their new home. Forcing a secret alliance with the Fuhrer, the BlackStar assembles the SS and provides Hitler the means to commence the "Final Solution." World War II begins with the BlackStar guiding its progress from the shadows.

   Can the Guardsmen halt a world war, stop the cunning ambitions of the BlackStar to hold the Earth as ransom, and save The Colonel's fiancée from certain death?

• Language: English
• Publisher: DoneRaw Books
• Release date: Jul 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386993216

Douglas Rawdon

When not writing, Douglas Rawdon works as a software engineer developing information systems in the medical or payroll industry. He resides in North Carolina with his wife and three children. BlackStar is Doug's first entry into the e-publishing world.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

A MUSCULAR WOMAN DRESSED in an olive-green uniform entered the deserted and inadequately lit alley, walking toward the opposite outlet with quick purpose.  As she passed a large pile of crates, one of many shadows present moved and followed her.

She didn't hear a sound from behind as the shadow trailed her every move.  The shabby illumination from the few elevated alley lights gave little indication there was more than one soul present.  Yet, the pursuing phantom quickly caught up to her.

The shadow faded and a physical being became visible under a circle of light shown down from above.  The being's shape was humanoid, tall, and completely covered in sable robes.  A gloved-hand flashed forward and tightly covered the woman's mouth.  She began to turn but hesitated when cold metal pressed firmly against the base of her neck.

I am here, a gruff, masculine, voice whispered from under the robes.

The woman replied to the voice as the hand was cautiously removed.  I didn't expect you here in the alley.  We were to meet at the rock hollow in the verdant plaza.

Plans have changed, the voice said sharply.

I don't like this.

I make the arrangements around here! the dark figure nearly shouted, each word crisp and well pronounced.  Now, do you have the camouflage units I paid for? the cloaked being pressed, jamming the barrel of his weapon harder against the woman's neck.

Yes.  But their price just increased, sharply increased.

Bilk me out of more money?  You are daring.  But tonight I only care to get the units—intact.

She turned to face the shrouded individual as the barrel was eased from her flesh.  Twenty million more and they're yours.  She tried but failed to see the figure's face as it was concealed behind the shadows formed by the robe's hood.

I warned you about deceit, Aeldane, scolded the cloaked figure as his index finger moved back and forth.  I'm deceit's master, not you.  You should know those who cross me pay dearly.  And I do trust you're not crossing me.

You don't know what I went through to get these for you.  Do you have the additional money with you?

Of course, you know I always come prepared.  I figured as much from a woman of your caliber.

That's what I hoped for.  Well, then, she began, let's get on with the transaction.  The woman in green pressed a button on her timepiece as her arms casually crossed; she dared not wait a moment longer.  The dark figure apparently noticed her wily action and tensed.  Moments afterward, the two were surrounded by a dozen others, descending from the darkness above by way of gravitation units strapped to their backs.  All were dressed in green fatigues.

The man in the dark robe spun around, his weapon already firing thunderbolts of white-hot energy with great precision.  Six intruders fell before anyone could react in defense or attack.  Two returned fire as soon as Aeldane was out of the line of fire, but their energy lances had no adverse effect on the specter of darkness.  Without fear, the man in black laughed, and again fired his weapon with deadly accuracy.  More shots thundered in the alley and several lances of lethal energy darted toward the cloaked figure's head.

AELDANE, THE WOMAN in green fatigues, ran from the scene the moment the cloaked figure turned his attentions from her.  She ran hard and for a long distance.  Soon she came upon an enormous hovertruck and climbed aboard.  As the vehicle slipped away through the dark of night, she began to worry about what transpired and what might happen as a result.

She snarled at her situation, then chuckled as she pushed a button and a compartment next to her opened.  Inside were stacks of gold-cast chips—round coins of great value.

If my men fail, at least I have his original ten million, she said aloud.  Soon I'll be off this planet and away from that sneaking Gol-Quon.  What a devil, she growled with a hint of hatred.

Several moments came and went before she sharply applied the grav brakes.  A roadblock ahead with several people holding up their arms for her to stop was not what she'd expected.

Be ready back there, she spoke into a tiny microphone on the hovertruck's steering column.  This could be one of Gol-Quon's tricks.  She picked up a weapon from beneath her seat and armed it.

Once the hovertruck came to a stop, she closed the compartment containing the money and leaned out the window.

What's going on? she asked, annoyed at the delay.  I've got to get this hover rig to the air terminal before the next hour.

An unfamiliar woman walked up to greet her.  The side of her white face and beautiful dark hair hanging down to her waist was all Aeldane could make out in the sparse light.  Get out of the hovertruck, Aeldane! the woman ordered.

Alerted to danger at the mention of her name, Aeldane reacted swiftly and flashed her gun in the woman's face.  Attack! she shouted into the mic.  She was ready to discharge a lance of concentrated radiation at the beautiful woman but, instead, found herself wrenched from the hovertruck with great force.  Her gun was taken from her with relative ease by a huge hand just before her back smacked the pavement.  Aeldane recovered quickly though, standing to face her attackers, arms at the ready to strike back.

What do you want? she bellowed, looking around for her summoned help.

Aeldane attempted to move but the same oversized hand belted her across the back of her head.  She toppled over, blood spilling from her mouth as it scraped the pavement.

I want the mask units, the dark-haired woman said.

As usual, Gol-Quon comes quite prepared, Aeldane managed.

Another blow of the huge hand blurred Aeldane's mind.  She reeled from pain but managed to recover.  She'd been trained to endure such situations.

So the great embezzler, Aeldane, manages to withstand the hands of the mighty Gathro, the other woman said.  I congratulate you on your attempt to gain another twenty million credits.  So sorry it didn't work out.

You work with the Gathro! Aeldane heartily growled.  She looked back but couldn't make out the details of the large creature that struck her with such force.

Yes, another voice spoke from the darkness.  And my Gathro ally, Nollo, enjoyed cracking all of your troopers' thick skulls.  Oh, by the way, they're still in the back of the hovertruck—dead of course.

Damn you.  Aeldane turned at the familiar voice and saw the cloaked figure whom she knew as Gol-Quon.  You're alive?

Quite!  I suspected all along you would try to cheat me.  That's your profession.  I'm glad I studied your techniques well.  In any event, I've robbed you of your victory and now I will have the units for which I have paid generously, Gol-Quon demanded.

You'll never find them, Aeldane spat.  No one who works with the Gathro deserves anything from— She was struck in the side by the Gathro's oversized humanoid fist and collapsed.  The huge hand, attached to a well-muscled arm, raised to strike again but, at the command of Gol-Quon, abstained from inflicting further damage.

I've ways of dealing with traitors.  The man in black approached, his deadly weapon in hand.  I always come prepared.  I hoped that it would not come to this, Aeldane.  You and I have worked well together.  A little greed is something that can be overlooked, but an attempt on my life is quite another matter.  Again, you should have known better.

At the wave of his gloved hand, an unscrupulous-looking man was brought forth, nearly naked and trembling vigorously.  He tried to escape from the crew of Gol-Quon but was unsuccessful.  The dark-haired woman made sure of that.

Riktoh! Aeldane cried out.

Unsettled are we? Gol-Quon asked.

I know what your man likes, Aeldane, the woman working with Gol-Quon said as she covered Riktoh's mouth so he couldn't speak.  He wants to be a victim.  He wants to suffer for your crimes ... even though he's committed many himself.  He could be the means by which you can stay among the living.  Maybe you can survive this night after all.

I should've been more cautious of you and brought more troopers.

You would still have failed, Gol-Quon retorted.  Your thirty or even sixty men are of no consequence to me.  You see, I can't be harmed by you or anyone.

Let Riktoh go, Gol-Quon.

Not at this moment, my cheating compatriot.  My associate, Syrna, must first administer just punishment.

No! Aeldane yelled, knowing what he meant.

With pleasure! the dark-haired woman named Syrna hissed.

Help me, Aeldane! Riktoh cried after the woman removed her hand.  They came for me just after you left—

Silence! Syrna ordered.  She struck out and jabbed a red-gloved fist into the soft flesh of Riktoh's belly.  He doubled over, gasping for air.

Aeldane tried to defend her man, but again found herself in the strong hold of the Gathro behind her.  Trying to escape with all her might, she twisted and struggled in vain as a single huge hand held her shoulder in an inescapable vise-like grip.

Now, Aeldane, said Gol-Quon, Tell me where the mask units are.  Tell me now.  I'm impatient as Riktoh knows first-hand.  Now, if you want your rickety husband to suffer more pain and humiliation, even death, then by all means remain silent.  If you want him to live, then tell me this instant what I want to know.

Aeldane looked at her man then at the twisted and evil smile she could clearly see on Syrna's crimson lips.  All right.  Okay, you win.  You know I'm just greedy.  You know that.  It was my nature to try.  Give me a moment to think.

Time is wasting, Aeldane, the man in black robes said with sham nonchalance.  Turning to Syrna he added, You may continue.

No! Aeldane growled, struggling to free herself again, but the Gathro wouldn't let her loose.

Syrna, her face now in full view, produced a thin bladed instrument and swiftly jabbed it into the Riktoh's left eye, then plucked the organ out.  Blood spurted and Aeldane's man gurgled in agony.  Aeldane cringed and her heart sank, imploding with grief.

Your eye is by your feet, Riktoh, Syrna laughed as she slid it off the instrument and dropped it to the pavement.  The bloodied man fell to his knees and, though in intense pain, began groping for his missing organ with hope it could be reattached.

So sad, Aeldane, her chief tormentor remarked.  Tell me what I need to know or Syrna will again work her magic.  You should understand what she'll do to your pitiful husband if you don't tell me.  I hope you want to keep him desirable?  If that was even possible before tonight.

It's under the hovertruck ... under the hovertruck, Aeldane gasped for breath, giving in to the cloaked man.  The containers are near the fusion unit, she moaned.  Riktoh ... I'm sorry, Riktoh ...

Find it! Gol-Quon ordered.

Several moments passed before three men dressed in black tunics returned with three containers the size of a typical human torso.  By this time, Riktoh had recovered his eye.

The containers were opened individually by the man in charge.  Gol-Quon viewed their contents and abruptly closed them all.  Thank you, Aeldane, said he.  It would have been much easier and less painful if only you would've obeyed me.  I think you'll trust me from now on.

What are you, Gol-Quon? Aeldane asked as she looked up from staring at her now frenzied husband.  She could tell he was close to going into shock.

I'll let you know after I'm finished with Riktoh.

Aeldane gulped hard, but couldn't manage a word, for she now knew her husband's fate was death.

The man in black brought forth his weapon and fired without hesitation.  Ten, perhaps twenty seconds passed before the body of Riktoh was pulverized and burned into nothing but a pile of smoldering bone fragments.  Aeldane's eyes widened with horror.  She'd never met such a vile person in all her corrupt years.  She didn't know what to do or say, or even what to think.  She just groaned miserably and sank to her knees.

I usually burn my victims in private, asserted Gol-Quon.  With no witnesses and with no body, there's no evidence or investigation.

You're so kind, praised Syrna, to have left some ash for Aeldane to cherish.

Thank you, my sweet, the dark and evil man replied.

Gol-Quon stepped forward and lifted Aeldane's head upward.  You asked what I am, Aeldane, so I'll tell you.  I am vengeance and dark justice.  You are the first outside my organization to know that I am a dark star which brings pain to this galaxy.  I am death to all who oppose me!  Yes ... yes, I'm no longer Gol-Quon.

Who are you? Aeldane wanted to know.

I ... I am BlackStar.  And you oppose me, Aeldane.

Gol-Quon, now to be known as BlackStar, slowly raised his weapon to Aeldane's head....

CHAPTER 1

AN EXQUISITE CRYSTAL gavel struck a plate of highly polished metal, making a loud clang.  The man holding the sturdy gavel set it aside as all in the triangular amphitheater quieted themselves and gave their complete attention to him.

The man was quite old, yet through the magic of a thousand years of medicine and science he seemed and acted younger than he was.  He looked stoic, as did those who sat beside him, yet there was an ambiance about him that radiated out to those attending who were giving him their respect.  His majestic demeanor lasted for a brief moment and was replaced by an expression of grievousness.

The man stood and addressed the formal assembly.  My fellow Councilmen and women.  We of the Presidency of the High Council of Treal, the Law unto the Interplanetary Coalition, do bring to order this session of The Tri-Government.  Hail to Treal, Axaltron and Guarda.  May we live in peace for all time to come with the Lord God's great blessings upon us.

There was much emotion as the strong words of this man flowed into the hearts and minds of those present.  I, Greagar Lutvazine, High President, do extend my heart to you all at this grave moment in our history.  He stood, and those presidents who sat beside him did likewise.  "We have come to a period in our illustrious history where, again, vile forces strive to destroy us.  This is the time when we should face our enemies with boldness and obstruct them more than they obstruct us.  We need to end their devilish acts so our great Interplanetary Coalition may continue into the future.  This is the day to begin that task.

"All resolutions made here will become law, and the law will empower the Guardsmen to remove from our midst the evil which lurks from every corner imaginable.  This evil, we have uncovered of late, labels itself the BlackStar.  This information was difficult to obtain, but we now know the meaning of their calling card.

"This BlackStar organization, as far as we know, began several years previous, and has remained a low profile enemy of the state until just the last few months.  With the death of Sub Councilman Ki Yeevs and the apparent infiltration into our very midst, we've become determined to undermine the BlackStar's hidden objectives.

"We have a notion of what they desire to accomplish, but still have little proof.  Therefore, I've given General Phal Youl instructions to expose the BlackStar and crush it!  To find its leaders and bring them to swift justice!

Recently, a military agent, a spy if you will, has begun working in the background.  His or her goal—I cannot tell you whom Youl and I have chosen—is to infiltrate the BlackStar organization, learn its plans, its methods, and the identities of its leaders. I hope very soon we will have the terrorists in our hands.

A middle-aged woman stood in the small crowd.  Eve Sharpler was a very popular High Councilwoman - always having a question or two for Greagar.  Could it be that the Gathro and the BlackStar are one and the same?  Or could it be that the Gathro have enlisted rebels to join with them in their quest to destroy us, and that those rebels are the BlackStar?

Yes. Greagar acknowledged her questions.  Both your statements may be true, Councilwoman Sharpler.  At this time though, we are unsure.  We have not apprehended a single individual from the BlackStar.  We've obtained only a few documents left behind in a failed raid.  These failures on our part might be due to their excellent knowledge of us.  I believe they have informants at every level of our government.  In fact, an informant or a few informants may be in this chamber at this very moment.  The gathering of leaders seemed unsettled by that remark, some even offended.  Greagar took a moment to gaze at those in the assembly who appeared calm or unaffected by his accusation.  A mental note was made.  We will find out though, and when we do, the BlackStar will speedily die an ignominious death.

Greagar shakily sat.  That is all I have on this subject at this time.  You may proceed, President Lockam.

The second of three Presidents, Fhear Lockam, addressed the High Council as Greagar relinquished charge of the assembly.  Lockam stood, leaned forward on his podium and spoke loudly.  Esteemed Doctor Nodwar has advised General Youl and myself about new scientific and military breakthroughs he has uncovered of late.  Please refer to Section B in your red document.  You may open it now.  He waited.  This document contains all the details available at this time.  The prototypes which Nodwar is developing should be ready for use in about a year's time.  The other presidents and I desire his utmost success.  To help make it so, I propose we increase his endowment threefold to the sum of ... let's see ... to the sum of 800 billion.  Doctor Nodwar and his team haven't let us down in the past with him Storm" line of weaponry and I have no reason to believe he might now.

"I have ordered extra Guardsmen placed in and around Xex Laboratories.  Neither the BlackStar nor anyone else will break through my security web and gain access to our highest secrets.

I bring the vote before the High Council.  Cast your conscience; use your heart and your vote for this costly but necessary defense funding.  May God above be gracious to us all and to Doctor Nodwar.

Before the votes were cast, nearly the entire membership of the High Council applauded and roared their praise to God and to Doctor Nodwar, and finally to Greagar Lutvazine, otherwise known as 'Greagar the Great.'

The meeting continued late into the day, covering various aspects of the coalition government and at intervals voting came and went for many proposed laws and items of import.  Throughout the council gathering in the ornamented amphitheater, an unwanted atmosphere prevailed—the threat of the unknown.  The Coalition survived a rapid dive through Hell once before.  Could it do so again?  Was the BlackStar a powerful menace or was it just an attempt for greatness that would fizzle and die of its own accord?  Only the future would tell.

THREE MONTHS LATER, in a dark room where a small circle of light shone on a sophisticated computer terminal, a pair of hands busily entered commands into the computer's keypad.  The swift fingers were coated with a transparent, skin-like coating developed by the coalition government for use by its spies.  The micro-thin gloves left no fingerprints and radiated no heat for the temperature-sensitive keypad to detect.  Even digital scans of the fingertips touching the keypad would yield no valuable information.  It was as though no one touched the terminal, though keystrokes were registered in a security database.

The hands quickly entered correct command entry codes and access to vital records were opened.  It was apparent by the quietness of the surroundings; there was no one to stop the individual from taking what was wanted.  Nearly the highest levels of security were obtained, and all critical information stored within the security library was copied by a machine the hands pressed firmly against the display.  The process happened with each new display of information.  There were no data transfers and no printouts to be recorded.  No alarms sounded as the mysterious perpetrator stole information with ease.

The individual behind the hands now attempted to gain the highest military access possible, but hesitated before advancing too far into the process.  Unsure the perpetrator could gain access undetected, the hands hesitated.  Failure would definitely result in capture and execution.  Whoever was behind the briskly moving hands was capable and had great knowledge to get this far, yet not enough knowledge to succeed in stealing everything of value.

The hands tightened into hard fists, the knuckles cracking.  The fingers flexed a few times and then they started to type again, this time exiting out of the security system.  The main screen appeared:

TRI-GOVERNMENT—HIGH COUNCIL AND GUARD

BLUEPRINT OF THE INTERPLANETARY COALITION

SYSTEM OF MILITARY DATABASES, GOVERNMENT DATABASES, STAR SYSTEMS

One of the hands reached up to turn off the small portable light brought into the room; it too gave off undetectable heat.  The hand quivered before the display's dim light and hesitated as the door to the room slid open, letting a small amount of brightness enter the room.  The door slid shut and footsteps approached.

The individual at the terminal spun around and the hands disappeared from view.  Who's there? the voice belonging to the hand's owner demanded to know.

Don't worry, Mark.  I'm a friend, a strong masculine voice announced from near the closed door.  I know the reason you're in here, so don't be alarmed.

Who are you? the man named Mark asked again.  The sound of a weapon's safety being disabled, accompanied his question.

I'm the one who asked for the information now in your possession, said the intruder.

Gol-Quon? Mark asked.

That's only one name I use.  I have many titles, and soon you shall know who I am in this new reality that I'll soon create.

I don't understand.

Then I'll explain.  I employed you after learning of your strong sympathies for organizations other than the Guard and Coalition.  You've grown disillusioned—I can tell your father has sickened you, and that the I.C. has turned to items of political correctness not in its best interests—Axaltron and religion for example.

Gol-Quon stopped speaking to listen.  There was a sound in the corridors beyond the door.

Go on, Mark urged the visitor after the sound faded.

You needed to save your sanity.  You want to bring about a new revolution—a rebellion of the highest degree.  I came here to meet you personally because of your worth to me.  Anyone in your position in the Guard, with your attitude and determination, is well worth my investment.  I came to offer you a prominent position in my organization.

You never mentioned the name of that organization, the man behind the hands said.

The BlackStar, of course.

The BlackStar!  It had occurred to me I might be working with them.  But until now, I've been in denial.

Denial?

Yes.  Just about everyone figures the BlackStar is a front for the Gathro.  So they can invade once again.

The Gathro?  No.  We're not as horrible as the Gathro.  The BlackStar organization is only now evolving and growing.  The Gathro's reign of fear and extreme violence will soon come to an end as ours surpasses it.  You must be one of us, Mark, and become a part of history in the making.

Sounds intriguing.

Quite intriguing!

But you must know I already believe in your ideals.  That's why I'm doing this for you ... for the BlackStar.

Why else would anyone do this unless they believed in our ideals?

I guess my ethics are the same as the BlackStar's.  A perfect match, so to speak.

I'd say you're correct.  The BlackStar, in its wisdom, hasn't taken many chances of yet, Gol-Quon said with caution.  We will, however, need to do so in the future in order to gain complete success.  Risk is becoming our new game plan.  And I can see by your being here tonight that you will risk everything for me.  Your rewards for this loyalty will be the riches and powers of the galaxy — a God-free galaxy.

There was silence for a long moment, and in the nearly complete darkness of the room, Mark answered his malefactor employer, I'm in ... but I must know more about the BlackStar.  I want to take a more active role.

A macabre laugh followed, and then the words of the agent of doom replied.  "I'm glad.  You'll know all there is to know about the BlackStar except a few minor details and facts—particulars that my principal partners and I alone know.  Other than that, you'll be counted among the leaders of the new order, the order of the BlackStar.

With you in our midst, Mark, we'll have a pair of watchful eyes to spy upon General Youl, just as I spy upon the High Council and my conspirators spy upon the Guardsmen, and just as others who work for me spy on Axaltron and the Gathro.  You get the picture.

Yeah.

You're far too valuable to me to jeopardize your secret life, so only in private shall we talk and plan—as we do now.  We think alike, you and me.  I know BlackStar himself is pleased with your decision to join us, in that I am BlackStar! the man hidden by the darkness laughed briefly at his revelation.

I assumed as much.

"As a risk taker, I do much of the work at hand.  I'm taking a risk here tonight but I'd not be seen as an intruder.  I'm here as my own self, a Coalition member if you will.

Now, do you have any final questions? BlackStar asked.

One.

Go on.

Should I call you BlackStar or Gol-Quon?

BlackStar will suffice.  Gol-Quon, the great procurer of that which is difficult to possess ... well, my Gol-Quon identity is nearing obsolescence.

Mark could sense that BlackStar had moved, and when he spoke again, he was now to his right.

Let's get down to the business at hand, Mark.  You were the only one I could trust to gain the information now in your possession.  It's sad to say, but I'm the only one I can trust to gain the highest level of information which is stored in the High Council's Presidential Library.  I have come for both sets of information tonight.  So the question is: could you gain access to Youl's Command Library?

No.

No!  I must know who the Coalition security plant is.  I only hope the information is contained in those libraries you can access.

I hope so, Mark returned.  I could gain entry to every military library except for those in the highest security level—the Command Library.  For all my knowledge and contacts, I couldn't find out the necessary access codes.  Here, take this.  Mark handed BlackStar the device which recorded the computer screens.

Do you have any thoughts on whom the infiltrator might be?  Male or female?  Anything?

None.  The spy could be from the Guard's Special Security Force, from the Spy Corps, or just someone who's, so far as we know, a nobody.

Any inclinations?

The Spy Corps would be my guess.  It would take a true intelligence agent to infiltrate your organization.

I understand your point.  See if you can become part of Youl's team, and find out who it is.

I'll try.  The general is a hard-nosed soldier.

Do what you can.  Maybe in the future we'll find another way to access the Command Library, but for now I need to begin my own task.  Please step aside.  Your work tonight is complete.  Leave the room so I can take from the Presidential Database that which is rightfully mine.

MONTHS LATER, A LARGE sauropod-shaped sky liner sailed the green skies of Baventra V.  The passengers within its syntha-steel bowels were blissfully unaware of the small dark speck in the brilliant atmosphere behind its wake as the huge sky liner turned east.  Great winds quickly buffeted the sky ship as it ascended to its maximum cruising altitude on its journey to the far side of the emerald planet.

The sky liner, a flying fortress of incredible size resembling a reptilian fish, seemed to float above the planet far below, suspended only by the wind and clouds.  Actually, large antigravity units alone kept the elegant monster sky ship afloat.  Nevertheless, the deep-blue sky liner sailed onward, carrying thousands of occupants to tropical destinations.

The black speck trailing the sky liner gradually closed the distance between the two, as if not wanting to attract attention.  The black dot followed the vapor trail produced by the great rear-mounted thrusters of the sky liner and didn't deviate from this course.  Because of state-of-the-art stealth technology, not even ground-based navigational control centers knew the black speck was soaring across the skies, gaining on its target.

Once over the great ocean of Baventra V, the black speck sped forward with incredible acceleration.  In a matter of seconds, the speck became a small starship.  It glided dangerously close to the sky liner’s thrusters, whose onslaught of power ripped apart and pushed away air molecules to force the passenger ship forward.  The small starship withstood the omnipotence of the breaking atmosphere and came in very close.

Abruptly the starship changed course and landed gently on the top hull of the sky liner, just above the thrusters.  Strong grappling mechanisms secured the starship to the sky liner, and a section of the starship lowered down to the hull of the sky ship.

Inside the sky liner, hundreds of passengers watched various holomovies, while other hundreds conversed or read literature of varying sorts.  Engineers and attendants busily performed assigned duties to keep the sky liner afloat and its occupants entertained.

The ride was smooth, as if the sky liner hadn't even left the ground, and the trip to Dadentra, the most popular resort on this spectacular giant resort planet, would only last another forty minutes of the hour long journey.  Life here was carefree, luxurious, and quite expensive.

In the upper levels of the sky liner, near the thrusters, a small invading group consisting of a dozen black-garbed individuals made their way forward, taking brisk strides.  One of these infiltrators was Syrna.  She was in command of the eleven men in her strike force.

Get ready, she snapped, donning a thin black mask that only covered her white face.  Next she pulled on red, tightfitting gloves.  Let's go.

The group knew their preassigned destinations.  Several were to take control of ship security while the majority of the band entered a hatch that led to a large lounge filled with a multitude of men and women.

A party was progressing nicely within the lounge and all present, dressed in red tunics, were enjoying themselves.  All uniforms bore the markings of the Guard, the elite military fighting force of the Interplanetary Coalition.  This large group of soldiers, termed Guardsmen, were on their way to two weeks of shore leave and partying.

The lounge doors parted, allowing the group under Syrna's direction to enter the crowded room.  The weapons they carried were military StormBlasters. Each StormBlaster fired thunderbolts of concentrated, lightning-like energy.  Several in the group shot stun-force bolts into the ceiling, and the unarmed Guardsmen froze in their tracks.  Those in black immediately took up strategic positions, blocking all exits and any form of communication with any other part of the sky liner.

Syrna's voice spoke loudly and clearly from behind the flesh of black fabric.  She was unrecognizable but the intent of her voice was obvious.  I want your attention, your complete attention.  If any of you resist the BlackStar, your death will be swift.

At the mention of the BlackStar, murmurs filled the lounge.  The majority of the Guardsmen were astounded to find the BlackStar in their midst at such a far outpost of the Coalition.  Perhaps that was, indeed, why the league of terrorists had chosen this locale.

I warned you to heed my words, Syrna blurted out angrily.  She aimed her weapon at a nearby Guardsman and pressed its trigger.  The young soldier had only time enough to gasp before he died, his head smoldering upon his shoulders.  The room fell silent as his remains fell to the floor.

That was your first warning!  Don't try my patience again.

Someone brightened the dimmed lights and Syrna resumed speaking.  "We are here to enlist your help.  Yes, you can help the BlackStar.  We are in need of good women and men who are sensitive to our cause of justice.  We know many here want to see a change in how the government is run.  We are here to bring about that change.  You see, the Coalition is old, too old to sustain itself much longer.  This is one of the reasons we've grown in power.  Once the I.C. snaps, the Gathro or any other enemy of the Coalition will rush in and devour us.  We can't let this happen.  This is the purpose of the BlackStar.

Years back the BlackStar started small but now boasts a following of a few million members.  Many distrusted her fabrication by the look on their faces, yet some willingly accepted the enumeration based on what they heard.  We have the supporters, endless resources and private monetary backing to expand.  Everyone remains anonymous in the BlackStar and when the future is firm in our hands you will be remembered ... rewarded for your loyalty and service to the organization.  Our leaders are wise and powerful, and have influenced many.  The Gathro tremble at our name more than they do toward the Coalition.  Come join us, she pleaded, before it becomes too late.

The propaganda was obvious to many.  It was being applied effectively.  First fear was instilled, then that of a huge accepted following, then that of rewards for choosing them.  Yet there were many, not quite half of those present, who listened far too closely with their hearts of greed.  These Guardsmen began to turn from their own and toward the BlackStar as Syrna spoke more on the valiant service which the BlackStar rendered the galaxy.

After speaking for nearly ten minutes—filling the room with invigorating propaganda—Syrna paused and looked over her audience.  I have some sad news.  Only valiant women and men of the galaxy need apply to our waiting arms.  Those of you who resist our invitation will be put to death as we cannot have weak souls know our intentions—our rule must be strong to defeat the Gathro.  She raised her weapon and aimed it toward the hushed crowd.  All who now side with the BlackStar step forward.  All others move to the back of the room.

A few stepped forward without delay, making sure to keep their faces forward so as not to be easily identified by those behind.

The process moved too slowly, so Syrna stirred things up.  Do it now!

Many more rushed forward, and soon nearly one third of the occupants stood with Syrna and the BlackStar.  Syrna nodded and the other two thirds were swiftly gunned down by hundreds of thunderbolts of flesh-ripping energy.

Syrna laughed heartily as she watched them die.  She turned to her new colleagues and said with delight, Don't be laden with this heavy burden.  I'm the one responsible for their deaths.  But I must add that ultimately they were responsible, for as you can see, they chose poorly.

She raised her arm and pointed to a man with white hair at the exit.  Follow him and you'll be led to safety.  Remember, you're neither the first nor the last to join ranks with the BlackStar.  Many more are now enlisting across the known galaxy.  Some will actively serve in their current occupations but their allegiance is to the BlackStar!  Go now, she bade them.  I congratulate you.

After the last Guardsman exited and the door closed, Syrna laughed hysterically.  A good catch, she told her crew.  Now, it's time to plant the explosives and be on our way to first class.

AN AGED MAN WITH DARKLY tanned skin sat comfortably in a high-back chair gazing down at the crystal-green sea—the great sparkling ocean of Baventra V.  He flicked a wide grin of pleasure and pushed himself deeper into his body-conforming chair while taking in the scenic beauty far below.

A slender hand appeared before him, diverting his attention.  He took the large glass of purplish liquid from the attendant's hand and thanked her with serene graciousness.  The woman nodded and moved on down the rows of first-class.

The aged man, his gray hair turning white on the sides, turned to the woman beside him—his wife.  They clanked glasses—she drinking a yellow-green slushy mixture of exotic fruits.  She waxed a smile while sipping on the cocktail.

Glad you're here? he asked his wife.

A nod of her petit head was all the man needed to see for confirmation.  It's wonderful what you've done to Baventra V, dear, she said.  Only the governor of the Outer Rim Quadrant could do what you've done.

The man took the praise and kissed her.  Thank you, Callein.  I couldn't have done it without you.

Oh, Fabrein, you old prince ... she kissed him again, then resumed sipping her wonderful concoction.

Fabrein Em'Talstoi, Governor of the Outer Rim Quadrant, returned his gaze out the window and, in one gulp, downed his drink.  As he licked some purple residue from his withered, brown lips, a party of shadows arose around him.

A hurried nudge from his wife made him ask as to what was occurring.  He was awestruck to find a group of men standing in the wide aisle gazing intently at him.

What the?  What's going on here? Em'Talstoi quizzed them.  What do you want and how did you get in first class?

I'll ask the questions, snapped a woman's voice from behind the men.  Em'Talstoi looked farther down the aisle to see a woman strolling toward him with an air of complete control in the way she moved.

Fabrein recognized the voice as did his wife.  Syrna? he exclaimed in disbelief.

Don't know the name, Fabrein, she said, and I don't appreciate the accusation of being someone whom I'm not.

What is the meaning of this ill-timed intrusion? Em'Talstoi demanded.

The traveling passengers around began to murmur in fear as they beheld the deadly StormBlasters the group of intruders held ready.  Syrna glanced about and stepped up beside the seat of Callein.  She touched the governess' white hair and spoke to Fabrein.  The meaning of all this is to strike fear in the hearts of all people throughout the Coalition.

Syrna reached into her pocket.  Both Em'Talstois flinched thinking she was extracting a weapon to use on them.  But Syrna didn't live up to their expectation as she opened her hand to reveal a flattened cube with a dark spot in its center.  Syrna placed it in Callein's trembling hands.

Callein's aged, but quick, mind studied the cube in an instant.  She noticed the cube was made of some sort of plastic, and embedded inside was an animated inward falling black sphere—like a whirlpool of swirling darkness—with a tiny red flame at its exact center.  She didn't know what to make of the object, and she looked quizzically at the concealed woman for an answer.

You'll need that, my dear.  It will remind you of your husband ... the former governor of the Outer Rim.

Governor Em'Talstoi stood, reaching out to remove Syrna's mask.

Syrna caught his frail arms and held them at bay.  Twisting his wrist hard, she made a swift movement and wrenched him into the aisle, where he toppled to the floor.  And to think you used to be a strong warrior, Syrna remarked.

I have to see your face, Syrna.  I know your voice well.  And your hair is a dead giveaway.

You're a fool, Governor.

You are Syrna.  You served under me against the Agreppa forces.  Then you abandoned us just before the war ended to become a political activist, and when I defeated you in my first bid for governor, you disappeared—a beaten opponent—lost in the masses of the galaxy.  Now I presume you've returned to exact revenge.  What a devilish woman.

Callein attempted to leave her chair, but was forced back into her seat by Syrna's strong slap across her nose.  Don't think about saving Fabrein, lady! she snarled.  He's as good as dead!

Callein screamed, more from fear than pain.  Syrna struck her viciously again, this time closefisted, then everything went black for the first lady of the Outer Rim Quadrant.

Time is wasting.  This ship will be landing in a few minutes.  Take the Governor and we'll be on our way, Syrna instructed her men.

As she and her crew began to exit first class with their captive, an armed Guardsman appeared before them.  He opened fire, blowing an arm off a