Battle at Zero Point (20 page)

Whatever the case, just minutes after the ships reported they were ready for deployment, a small object was sighted on the fleet's joint scanners coming up behind the UPF starship
Missouri
. Many people who saw it both on the viz scanners and with their own eyes said this was actually Klaaz, flying in space, without a spacesuit or oxygen or other extravehicular needs. It was said Klaaz came up on the tail of the huge warship, put his mighty hands beneath its center tail fins, and pushed it. The vessel rocketed away at an incredible speed, traveling much faster than in Supertime. Once the
Missouri
was gone, Klaaz flew up to the starship
New Jersey
and did the same thing. Then he went to the
Arizona
, then the
Wisconsin
, then the
Oklahoma
.

Within minutes, Klaaz had hurled all of the two dozen ships away at incomprehensible speed.

And just like that, the Second Fleet was gone.

No one would dispute that something very strange happened that day. Indeed, the UPF ships were gone from orbit, gone from the Home Planets system itself. But how? There was no way of telling that, because even though they tried for days, those back on the Home Planets were never able to establish string comm contact with the two dozen new ships.

As for Klaaz?

Shortly after the Second Fleet disappeared, they said, he vanished as well.

Upper Five Arm

The castle mas filled uüth hundreds of beautiful women.

Blondes, brunettes, redheads. All of them were scantily clad; many were topless. Some were even real.

The castle was known as Ruby Ridge. It was located on a high cliff near the equator of a planet called
Rocks 32
. The mountainous, tropical world was a well-known gambling mecca in the upper Five Arm, a wild part of the Galaxy if there ever was one.

Rocks 32
was a sunny place for shady people. More than gambling went on here. Much more. The planet was a hotbed of drug dealing
(jamma
mostly), moving illegal slow-ship wine, and most of all, black market weapons trading, both buying and selling. The planet's police were all paid off; its politicians were, too. And while most of the people on
Rocks 32
knew about the Fourth Empire, no imperial ship, whether it be SF, SG, or X-Forces, had been in the system in almost twenty years.

There was only one way to buy or sell weapons on this hot little world: hit town with a big splash, rent the most audacious resort possible, throw a huge party with plenty of beauties, good food, and drink—and then wait for the money to come to you.

Which was exactly what was happening inside the magic castle this day. On the top floor of the tallest tower sat the man who had organized the weeklong bash. His name was Rexx VonRexx. Just eighty years old, he was small and thin, with a long, wispy beard, a head fall of braided hair, and a fetish about always wearing black. Suave, charming and, thanks to a reconstituted face, very handsome, he was also extremely rich. In fact, he was among the richest men in this part of the Galaxy.

Moving stolen weapons was VonRexx's specialty. He'd been buying war toys in bulk for the past twenty years, mostly from the enormous black markets farther down the Five Arm. These parties were the means by which VonRexx moved his merchandise, selling them to midlevel customers who could afford his high prices. He'd been laying groundwork for this gathering for weeks. Calling old friends, setting up meetings, replicating the food, the booze, the jamma, and the girls— spending money like water, which sent ripples around the mid-Five like a volcano orgy. That was the intention, of course. This bash was practically guaranteed to produce results.

It would also attract many guests, invited and otherwise.

Ruby Ridge Castle was forty-four stories high. There were nearly 600 holo-girls, 300 or so real females, several hundred potential customers and their entourages on hand with a small army of hired guards watching over everyone. Security throughout the fortress was tight, especially on the ground floor.

This was the hottest party in the mid-Five at the moment, but still, no one got through the front gate without a thorough scanning. Those not meeting a strict set of criteria were turned away and told not to return. If they refused, they were beaten to a pulp.

While most of the raucous partying took place on the lower floors, VonRexx only did business in the top suite during these events. He would stay up for days, schmoozing potential clients, getting them fed and oiled—and in the mood to do some buying. When things got slow or whenever the mood would strike him, he would let word filter down to the lower floors that he was in a selling mood again. And that prices were being reduced. This would bring an influx of moneymen up to the top suites, ready to do business. They had to stop at the forty-third floor first, though, where they would be checked over once again, this time by VonRexx's personal bodyguards. They would be scanned for weapons—ironically, none were allowed on the top floor—and their purses searched to make sure they were carrying real money.

Anyone passing this gauntlet would still have to wait until VonRexx himself approved a face check on them.

Only then would they be allowed into the forty-fourth floor.

The party in the castle had just begun its third day when word *ent through the building that VonRexx was discounting igain.

As predicted, this brought a fresh wave of buyers to the huge penthouse, leaving behind the sinful pleasures of the lower floors. Those cleared by security began drifting into ±e spacious top suite. The lights here were always low, the conversations hushed. With star-jazz music tinkling from everywhere, it was more sophisticated, more mysterious. As always, VonRexx could be found reclining on a large divan in .he far corner of the room, a location from which he could see just about everybody and everything.

He was surrounded not
m
security men but by a battalion of absolutely gorgeous ¦ omen. It was understood that anyone entering the room had to acknowledge VonRexx with a slight bow or a tip of the hat. Like tribute to a king, it was important to remember just who was paying the bill for all this. Plus, VonRexx loved being the center of attention.

He'd been tipped by his security men that three arms buyers from the nearby system of
Slingerlands
7 were on their way op. This was good news. Though the Slingers were usually nolent and volatile individuals, they always bought the most expensive stuff, such as e-mines, sonic torpedoes, and thermo-erenades. And they always carried real money. No chits; no credit sales for them. They were VonRexx's kind of customer.

He saw them coming. Deep Durole uniforms, hieh black boots, lots of tattoos. The three Stingers pushed through the crowd by the door and started making their way across the dark, congested room.

Once the trio was within twenty feet of him, VonRexx waved half of his girls away, clearing a path for the three men to approach. But oddly, they did not go to him. Instead, they veered off for the opposite corner of the room, where a very tight circle of party goers had formed without VonRexx realizing it.

Mystified, he climbed off the couch and wandered over. Music was playing, guests were imbibing, and sexual antics were quietly going on throughout the room—yet an entirely different thing was happening over here. True, the penthouse was dark and crowded, and VonRexx couldn't keep his eyes everywhere at once. But he was surprised he'd missed this.

About a dozen well-known arms dealers were standing around a huge individual under a bare light in the corner. VonRexx himself had OK'd everyone who'd been allowed into the castle's top suite. He could not recall clearing someone this large to pass through. The man had his back to him; VonRexx could only see the faces of those gathered around. They all looked fascinated. Whatever this man was saying to them, he seemed to have put them in a trance.

Two of the arms dealers were having a particularly hushed conversation with the mystery man. Then came a round of handshakes and hugs, and the two men departed. They walked by VonRexx without giving him so much as a nod and hurried out the door. Strangely, each man had a dab of oil on his forehead.

Finally, VonRexx moved close enough to see the big man's face. He was shocked.

He knew him. He was one of his old competitors.

His name was Zarex Red.

Zarex had once been very famous in this part of the Galaxy. A rare combination of gunrunner and explorer, he had specialized in getting weapons to people who were in desperate need of firepower and willing to pay his premium prices. In turn, he used his profits to explore places so deep in the Five Arm, few people ever dared to venture to them. Of late, though, the rumors had it that Zarex was either dead, lost among the stars, or had taken up with a band of rogues who were trying the impossible: the overthrow of the Fourth Empire.

Which was why VonRexx was so surprised to see him here now, a very large, uninvited guest. How had he made it past security? How was it that he could so cavalierly draw the attention of the unsavory weapons dealers and rivet them so? VonRexx studied him from afar, fascinated that so many of his potential customers were hanging on Zarex's every word. The huge ex-explorer
was
charismatic, he supposed. But he'd never seen him draw a crowd quite like this.

He looked different, too. To VonRexx's eyes, Zarex seemed bigger, if that was possible. More muscles, more height, but there was also a strange glow about him, a halo of sorts around his head. This aura was not the greenish haze that could be seen trailing someone who'd spent a lot of time crashing stars. This was something else entirely.

VonRexx made sure Zarex did not see him, hiding himself in the dark crowd of holo-girls and guests.

The man's presence here was a mystery but also an opportunity. His former dual-occupation had made Zarex wealthy by saving some of the Five Arm's most famous freedom fighters. But it had also made him some big-time enemies as well. Gunrunner and explorer, Zarex was also a wanted man—and not just by the Empire.

And his robot was nowhere to be seen.

Interesting
, VonRexx thought.

Day turned to night and back to day again, a matter of just a few hours on
Rocks 32
.

With the dawn, two men arrived at the castle's front gate. They were wearing long, black cloaks with their hoods pulled up. The ground-level security team ran them through the rigid scanning procedure, but they passed quickly. They had done business with VonRexx before, and they'd just been in touch with the weapons king before they arrived. That was enough for them to proceed directly to the forty-fourth floor.

Here they were scanned again. They were also checked for that most important thing of all: cash. The pair did not disappoint. They were carrying thirty solid aluminum pieces, a huge amount of money in this part of the Milky Way. The security troops let them in and sent word to VonRexx that they were in the house.

The two men still had to fight their way across the very expansive room; it was like hiking through a forest of dazzling women and very drunk men. Finally, the cloaked pair reached VonRexx's location. No one saw them hand VonRexx their money pouch. Thirty pieces of true aluminum, VonRexx took it without a blink.

The men then made their way across the crowded room to the far corner where Zarex was still holding court. They saw the fascinated faces of the hardcore weapons men, many now with dabs of oil on their foreheads. Just a few minutes of eavesdropping confirmed what the two men had expected to hear. Zarex was not buying or selling weapons; he was asking for volunteers to help him fight some great battle that was about to take place on the Two Arm.

The two men had heard that the explorer had been visiting many planets in the region in the past few days; in fact, there had been several reports of him showing up on two different planets simultaneously.

And he was doing then what he was doing now: addressing some of the most noxious arms dealers, the sleaziest and the chronically dishonest, and trying to convert them—that was the only term applicable—to join him on this mysterious crusade to the Two Arm.

What was truly amazing was that many of the weapons dealers were agreeing to go. As a group, most gunrunners were patently dishonest and habitually greedy, the hazards of the trade. While they had easy access to fully stocked weapons ships and men to run them, they never did anything that would be considered idealistic. And they never did anything for free.

Yet this seemed to be exactly what Zarex was getting them to do. At least two dozen ships stocked with weapons and technicians had been reported leaving the Five Arm for the Two over the past few days. And several more were in orbit around
Rocks 32
, apparently ready to embark for the same location. One of these was even a ship from
Slingerlands
7.

But all this was really of little concern to the two men. Why a group of slimy arms dealers had so suddenly found religion did not interest them.

They were here for a different reason.

One of the two men finally approached Zarex and shook his hand.

"I understand there is a big fight brewing somewhere?" the man asked Zarex.

Zarex looked him directly in the eye. "Yes, and I am here to recruit souls turned good to help in the cause. Are you interested?"

"Maybe," the man told Zarex. "We've both felt the need for redemption lately."

"For what crimes, my brother?" Zarex asked him, bending slightly to hear the man.

The man just shrugged. 'Take your pick," he said.

Still locked onto his eyes, Zarex thought a moment, then breathed four words: "My guess is betrayal…"

At that moment, a small ship suddenly appeared over the castle. It could be seen clearly through the glass roof of the penthouse. Zarex looked up at it for a moment. When he looked back down, the two men were holding blaster guns on him.

Zarex laughed out loud. "What is this?" he asked. "A holdup?"

The men did not reply. They just simply pulled their capes off to reveal combat uniforms beneath.

They were not arms dealers. They were Bad Moon Knights. Hands down the worst, most ruthless mere army on the Five Arm. They'd been after Zarex for nearly a century.

The partygoers scattered at first sight of them. A few women screamed. Somewhere, a blaster gun went off. Wine goblets crashed to the floor. The ship above the castle drew closer. A pulse beam appeared from its bottom, smashing through the glass roof and engulfing Zarex in an ice-blue ray. He was instantly frozen in place.

"Getting very sloppy in your old age," one of the two men :old him.

"Or maybe this is the way it's supposed to be," Zarex managed to gasp.

Suddenly, a second red beam came down from the bottom of the hovering spaceship. It hit Zarex with the force of a sonic blast. He crumpled helplessly to the floor, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

Slowly, painfully, he faded away.

The next few hours went by in a dull, red haze for Zarex.

He was bundled aboard the small ship that had appeared above the castle and brought up to orbit, where he was transferred to a larger ion-powered vessel. Still encased in the crimson force field, he was placed in the control room of this second spaceship and put on display for the crew. A sign grafted onto the field read simply:
Zarex Red
—
Criminal Condemned to Die
. Many of the crew spat at him or tried to punch him through the force field. Some succeeded, some didn't. He was completely frozen and couldn't retaliate though, not that he would have anyway.