Voidhawk

by Halstead, Jason

  “Enough, I’m getting distracted,” he said. “You fought well.”

  “Distracted?” Jenna asked between breaths. “By what?”

  “You need to change your shirt,” was all he said.

  Jenna realized that she still wore the torn shirt from the prison. She laughed, surprising Dexter. She had not realized that it was now so loose that any abrupt twist, lunge, or other movement would have one or both breasts spilling out of it.

  “Why are you laughing?” Dexter asked, confused. He was trying to save her from embarrassment and humiliation.

  “You humans, so modest… I’ll have to remember that and make use of it,” she said.

  Dexter looked at her, brows furrowing at his lack of understanding.

  “The body is a beautiful thing,” Jenna explained. “Not something to be hidden and ashamed of. My people wear clothing to be sensible, fashionable, or for protection, not because it bothers us if others see us without it.”

  “Oh,” Dexter said, suddenly the uncomfortable one. “I, um, I guess that makes sense.”

  Jenna grinned at him, enjoying his discomfort. “Perhaps next time I’ll fight you nude.”

  “Not sure I could handle that,” Dexter admitted.

  Jenna chuckled. “Yes, Captain,” she said. She turned to head back below then stopped and twisted her torso to look back at him. “Captain?”

  Dexter chanced a look at her, noticing almost instantly that the way she had twisted gave him a clear line of sight to the full swell of one breast behind one half of her torn shirt. He forced his eyes up to hers and fought to ignore the heat in his cheeks. “Um, yes?”

  “If you’ve the money when you return for supplies could you pick me up a rapier and a short sword? You might find me a little more challenging thus armed.”

  Dexter nodded, anything to escape the embarrassment he felt.

  She made her way down the staircase and Dexter let out a deep sigh. “Gods,” he muttered. “What am I doing with women on the ship?”

  He shook his head and headed towards the forward staircase to head below deck. All the while he tried to figure out why he had felt embarrassed when she was the one accidentally exposing herself

  * * * *

  The next day, with Jodyne at his side, Dexter returned to New Haven for more supplies. He picked up the foodstuffs she needed, as well as the cooking utensils and even a hotstone, which cost 10 gold by itself but kept Jodyne from using a flame to cook any food on the ship. He had plans for a magical frostbox, to keep food fresh, but the cost prohibited him from buying it.

  The largest expense came from the dozens of yards of canvas, thread, and needles he had to buy. He had enough left that he found himself drawn to a weaponsmith’s shop. Jodyne had returned to the ship to await the delivery of the canvas from the tailor’s shop.

  When Dexter returned to the ant he had a rapier hanging from a baldric over his shoulder. The canvas had been delivered, and with nothing else to do, Dexter paid for the dock authority to recharge the ant’s helm, then he paid the docking fees and piloted the ship back to the asteroid field.

  Bekka rose from her nap and helped Jodyne carry in the supplies. She looked pale, but nodded to him when he mentioned the canvas. A tired smile accompanied the nod, convincing him to once again mind his own business. He noticed that she must have acquired a dagger from Jenna as well; the stubble on her head had been freshly shaved.

  Jenna was on the deck, practicing with her long sword and a dagger. Dexter came up behind her and cleared his throat, but she did not slow her rapid movements. “Need something, Captain?”

  Dexter took the baldric off and, for lack of a better idea, said, “Try this,” and threw it in the air to her.

  Jenna spun around, sliding her long sword in her scabbard smoothly and catching the baldric just before it hit the deck. She straightened up and looked at it, then at Dexter. She grinned and slipped it over her shoulder and tightened it.

  “Not going to be much left of my first wages,” she said, smiling. “You ready for that rematch now?”

  Dexter smirked and reached for his blade. He stopped, suddenly nervous. “You’re, um, you’re not going to take your clothes off, are you?”

  Jenna laughed. “Only if you order me to, Captain.”

  Dexter laughed. “Some other time maybe. For now, defend yourself.”

  Jenna drew her sword and parried Dexter’s lunge, turning it over and driving his blade out so he was off balance and overextended. She kept his sword out and stepped in to his reach, driving her dagger towards him. She stopped the lethal motion in time enough to let the tip of it press against his abdomen.

  “I win,” she said, smirking.

  “Luck,” Dexter said, more than a little surprised at her extreme skill with the rapier. “Again.”

  They dueled for several more minutes, and with the exception of one time, Jenna had him soundly beaten. Finally Dexter held up his hand to signal an end to it. “Not sure it’s safe for me to find a short sword too.”

  Jenna just grinned. Not a sarcastic or fake grin, but one filled with the thrill of victory. “Thank you… Captain.”

  Dexter nearly asked her what she meant, then decided either he already knew, or he did not want to. He nodded and gestured at the ant parked off in the distance. “Enough play, there’s work to be done. Time to earn your pay.”

  “What’s this tub named, anyhow?” Jenna asked as the walked down the plank. The bow had yet to have a name painted into it.

  Dexter glanced back at the ship. Hawk’s Talon was its old name, but the ship hardly resembled what it had once been. “The Voidhawk.”

  Jenna glanced back up at it and nodded. “Good name.”

  Chapter 2 : Roshelle

  There are several ways to find work for an enterprising captain. The most common was by word of mouth. Those that did well in the business built up a reputation at their ports of call. Those that did not… well, they were not long for the business.

  Another way was to register at the dockyards. That tended to offer a captain far less choice about what he carried and who he worked for. It was not something Dexter, or many other captains, liked to chance. For the down and out, or for those that just did not care, it provided stable, if low paying, work.

  An aggressive captain could make his way to local businesses, nobles, and of course the Federation offices to try and see if he could drum up any work. Doing that, however, put the captain at a weakened position when it came time for negotiations. Most owner / operators found it to be unpleasant work as well.

  Of the most common options for landing a job, Dexter chose none of them. Instead he frequented some of the seedier bars and placed a few inquiries here and there that would be passed along. He expected this would letting those who were interested know he was available for work that, while not necessary sanctioned by the powers-that-be, tended to be a little more lucrative.

  The Voidhawk remained safely stashed away in her shady little niche on the asteroid, lit only by the lightstones they placed throughout the ship’s interior and, when deckwork was necessary, on the deck. As dangerous as the Playground was, the kinds of people that traveled through it were equally treacherous, so they kept visible light to a minimum.

  Dexter sat by himself, having taken the ant back to New Haven in the hopes of finding something to keep them all busy other than rebuilding the ‘Hawk. He worried he might have to raise more money if their unemployment continued much longer. He had no use for the ant once they were finished with the Voidhawk, it was too large, at nearly thirty feet long, to lash to the hull of the Voidhawk. Still, it had proven very useful to them and Kragor had put a lot of work into it. Maybe he would just leave it stored on their asteroid hideaway for safekeeping.

  His musings were cut short by the approach of a scantily clad woman. He sized her up, appreciating what she was advertising even if something about her put him off. He paid her no further mind until sat down at the table he alone occupied.


  “Buy a girl a drink?” she asked, her voice rougher than he expected. Reaching into a bag at her side she pulled out a smokestick from a metal tin. A snap of her fingers ignited a magical flame that caused the end to grow red. She puffed on it and exhaled a cloud of flavored smoke through her painted lips towards Dexter.

  “Depends,” he said, fighting to keep his eyes out of her excessive cleavage. “What do you want?”

  She took another drag on her smokestick, smiling around it, and then laughed as she exhaled the pungent smoke. Crossing her legs and displaying a criminal amount of thigh through a slit in her flowing skirts, she asked, “Maybe I want you?”

  “Maybe I’m already taken,” Dexter replied, smiling back at her.

  “That’s too bad, it would have been a mutually beneficial arrangement,” she said, licking her lips.

  What she seemed to be offering suddenly clicked. “Go on,” he prompted, showing his interest.

  “How about that drink?”

  Dexter nodded, smiling. Such was the cost of doing business. He turned and raised his hand to catch a barmaid’s eye. She saw him and he gestured at his strange table mate. She nodded and headed for the counter.

  “That’s better,” she said after taking a drink of the ale the barmaid delivered. Dexter handed the barmaid a silver piece, overpaying her on purpose.

  “Man with that kind of money to throw around you might not need my kind of work,” she said.

  Dexter shrugged. “These girls work hard and get little more than pinched bottoms and crude jokes in return. This keeps the water out of my ale and my food off of the floor.”

  “You’re a rare man, Captain,” she said around another mouthful of smoke.

  Dexter shrugged off the compliment, or what he interpreted as a compliment. “About that mutually beneficial arrangement?”

  She smiled and dropped her smokestick to the floor, stepping on it and crushing the glowing cherry. “Yes, about that. You’re new to the business of shipping?”

  Dexter shrugged. “Been around it my whole life, just been flying scout for the Feds up till now.”

  “Word is you’ve had a disagreement with the Federation, spent some time in a cage I hear?”

  Dexter shrugged again. “Word on the street is that my first mate is a half-giant that breathes fire too.”

  She raised an eyebrow and then laughed. “Point taken. Enough of the past, let’s talk about the future. Our future.”

  “To the future,” Dexter agreed, raising his glass and taking a small drink from it.

  “I have some cargo I would like you to transport for me,” she said, looking at him closely for his reaction.

  “I’m guessing this cargo be special, else you’d book it on a registered shipping charter.”

  “You’re a clever man, Captain,” she congratulated him with only a hint of sarcasm. “I’d like to make sure it avoids inspections and the like.”

  “Sounds like smuggling to me,” Dexter said, lowering his voice a little so no one else in the bar heard him. It was noisy enough and filled with enough people that he had little to fear. Still he felt safer for having done it.

  “If you’re not interested,” she said, trailing off.

  “Never said that,” Dexter replied with a smile. “I just like knowing what I’m getting my crew into is all.”

  “You care about your crew?”

  “Aye, what captain doesn’t?”

  She smirked. “Far more than you know. It speaks well of you.”

  He nodded and returned to the topic of the job. “So what’s the cargo?”

  “Let’s not get tied up in meaningless details,” she said, sipping her ale and reaching into her bag to pull out her case where she kept her smokesticks.

  Dexter raised an eyebrow. He did not like the direction things were going. Unless, of course, it meant a bigger paycheck at the end. “Where’s this detail supposed to be delivered?”

  “The third moon of Traxxis, with a penalty of 10% for every day it’s late,” she replied, pleased that he had not made an issue over the cargo’s ambiguous nature.

  “That’s steep, when does it need to be there?”

  “Four weeks from tomorrow.”

  Dexter’s eyebrow rose. Four weeks to smuggle some cargo to the other side of the Federation space. A straight shot through the heart of Fed space would take a little over two weeks, but dodging patrols and staying outside of normal shipping lanes would put a lot more time on it. “I could guarantee it there safe if you gave me six weeks,” he countered.

  “That’s fine, but you’d be doing it for free then, and I don’t think you want that,” she said, lighting her new smokestick.

  Dexter frowned. “What kind of payment are we talking about?”

  “Name your fee,” she countered, smiling before pulling in the fresh smoke.

  Dexter took another sip of his drink as he thought it over. “If you want it there in four weeks free of any Fed inspections or taxes, I want 2500 gold for the risk to my ship and crew.”

  “That’s a bit pricy, Captain,” she said without batting an eye.

  Dexter shrugged. It was more than a bit pricy, it was outrageous. “You won’t tell me what I’m hauling or how much of it, so I have no idea what it is. In order to get it there in time I need to skirt through the Devil’s Breath, and there’s not many that come out of there in one piece.”

  Still not willing to offer any more details, she shrugged and took another drag on her smokestick. “Taxes would cost less,” she suggested.

  Dexter grinned. “Aye, they would, but methinks your cargo wouldn’t be taxed. Seized and confiscated is more like it.”

  “There are other ships and other captains that will do it for less…”

  Dexter was waiting for that line. He was pleased as well that his hunch on her cargo’s illegal nature was apparently on the money. “But none of them know the Federation the way I do. I worked for them, I know how their helmsman think and I know what they’ll do.”

  “You’re an unknown,” she pointed out.

  “You already checked me out and you approached me, that won’t work.” He responded smugly.

  She shrugged finally. “Alright, 2500 it is, minus 10% for every day you’re late. Tell me where your ship is so I can have the cargo delivered to it.”

  Dexter sat there unblinking for a moment, not quite realizing that he had contracted his first job. Then it dawned on him and he nodded, barely hiding his excitement. “Have your ship meet me on the sunward side of The Playground tomorrow morning.”

  “I would think you would want as much time as possible, why not earlier, say midnight tonight?”

  Dexter thought it over, that gave him about five hours, he could make it, barely, if he hurried. “Alright, we can do that. Who am I working for?”

  “Why, you’re working for yourself, Captain Silvercloud. The man you’ll meet at Traxxus III will be named Drevin. Meet him in 29 days at midnight on Traxxus at the Waterview Tavern,” she said, then took a final drink of her ale.

  Dexter nodded. Anonymity was not unheard of, especially in the grey area of work he had just gotten himself wrapped up in. “How’m I supposed to get it past the Feds at the port on Traxxis III?”

  She smiled and shrugged. “Your concern, Captain, not mine. Showing up without the cargo, however, is inadvisable. Not showing up at all is likely to be even more unfortunate for you, however.”

  “You paint a grim picture of failure.”

  She smiled warmly and stood up. She leaned over next to his ear and whispered in a seductive voice, “So don’t fail.”

  Dexter watched her walk away, admiring the sway of her hips, then realized that time was against him. He sucked down the rest of his ale and hurried out of the tavern, all but running for the ant.

  * * * *

  “You think it’ll be safe down there?” Bekka asked Kragor as the Voidhawk lifted, for the first time, from the seclusion of the shadowy depression.

  Kragor was bus
y running around the ship and making sure it performed as he already knew it would. He scarcely had time for the half-elf’s questions. “Aye, lass, safe as can be.”

  The ant was already invisible to them, tucked away in the darkness they had just abandoned. It did not sit well with Dexter to leave the boat behind but it was too large to lash to the deck or the hull of the Voidhawk.

  “It’s a fine little boat,” Bekka said fondly of the customized job Kragor had done when he repaired and refit it.

  The dwarf moved away from the stern castle heading to check on the mainmast and the rigging on the wings. She smiled after him and shrugged, then turned to man the tail fin, which served as a tiller for a ship in the void.

  Jenna was working alongside of Jodyne with the rigging, sales, and wings so that they could maneuver better should the need arise. Kragor’s enhancements had made the ship more maneuverable and reduced the need of the crew size to run it, but they were still shorthanded and moving as rapidly as possible to deal with the cloud of rocks they sailed through.

  It took them nearly an hour to dodge the worst of the rocks of the Playground. Kragor scrambled about making last minute repairs. Bekka took the helm to keep the ship steady while Dexter came up on deck and waited for their appointment. Jodyne disappeared below, returning to make sure nothing had gone awry below deck. Jenna stood quietly beside the Captain, showing a patience that he considered unnatural.

  In a matter of minutes Jenna’s keen elven eyes spotted their contact moving through the void. It moved close enough until they could see it clearly, drawing an appreciative whistle from Dexter. It was a slim ship that was streamlined for speed and, should the need arise, for using its twin reinforced wooden lances on the bow as a ram to punch a hole clean through a ship.