Free StarHawk by Mack Maloney Page A

There was no surprise in this. The Empire owed its existence to the military; its soldiers were considered celebrities, to be honored and respected, the higher the rank the better.
    Anyone in a uniform who managed to get himself to Earth could find no better circumstance than walking among the people of Big Bright City—especially in the week before the Earth Race.
    Once the first stars were in sight, thousands of narrow, extremely bright beams of white light went shooting up into the night sky. These were StarScrapers, the latest playthings of the Very Fortunates.
    They were about the size of a quadtrol, handheld and tubular. They had unlimited power, thanks to the Big Generator. The device could shoot off into space, at Supertime speeds, and capture the light signature of a particular star. Because every star in the Galaxy was at least a little different from the next, each one produced its own unique blend of colors across the spectrum. These could be condensed and then be dragged back down to Earth, using the StarScraper’s shaft of super white light as the medium.
    The Very Fortunates had chosen to call these captures “light songs.” Most of them were incredibly vivid to the eye.
    Once the light particles were drawn down to Earth by the StarScraper, they could be used in a number of different ways. Some of the Very Fortunates illuminated their dwellings with their own brand of starlight. Others bathed themselves in the glow for hours, swearing by its youth-giving properties. Some tapped into the star’s audio frequencies to literally “hear the light” as well as see it. Some even would warm their cloud wine by starlight, claiming it increased the liquor’s opiate properties.
    And just like crashing through stars, people who used StarScrapers always had a certain glow about them.
    Even when the Holy Shadow passed above their heads.
    In contrast to the metropolis below, the floating city known as Special Number One had shut down for the night.
    Its labyrinths of bright floating lights were dulled, casting eerie red and yellow shadows across the Imperial grounds. Anyone in the Royal Family who craved the nightlife had headed below a long time ago. The main gates were now sealed and a squadron of air-chevys began doing slow orbits around the hovering palace. It was customary for Special Number One to go dark in the week before the Earth Race. It was said that the Emperor took this downtime to recapture memories of his previous life as a starfighter pilot during the Third Empire—or so he claimed. Most believed the Emperor simply used the time to catch up on his sleep.
    Nevertheless, with the activation of an impenetrable force field around the entire floating city, another day in the life of the High Specials was coming to an end.
    Or so it seemed.
    No sooner had the lights been lowered than a small air-chevy rose from the surface and approached the main gate of the floating city. After a quick surveillance scan by one of the Imperial sentries, the air car was allowed to pass through. It puttered its way through the maze of streets inside the palace walls, finally stopping at an nondescript building about half a mile from the Imperial House.
    Two guards materialized; one opened the door of the air car. A man dressed in a long black cloak emerged and glided into the building. His air car then moved into the shadows.
    The figure in black floated up the stairs and down a long corridor, finally reaching a huge oak door. He rapped on it twice and felt its lock spring open. He glided in. Two more Imperial guards were waiting for him.
    “I’m here,” the man simply told the guards. One disappeared behind another door, then reemerged. He motioned the man forward.
    The dark figure lowered himself and walked into the room alone, closing the door behind him. Sitting on a couch next to a roaring fire was the person he’d come to meet. Long blond hair—at least today. Skin perfect. Eyes perfect. Mouth, nose, and cheeks,