Voidhawk

by Halstead, Jason

  He made a gasping sound beneath his cloak, but said nothing.

  “Jenna is the First Mate of the Voidhawk, Zhirt. Dexter, our Captain, is still in Port Nimman,” Bekka explained, trying to reassure him. “Dexter is human.”

  Jenna ground her teeth in frustration. She wanted to demand to know what was so wrong with being an elf, but she already knew. She had forsaken her peoplefor a better, happier life. Not just her people, but her family and her position as a princess among the emperor’s family.

  And now she had taken a human for a lover. She wondered how much farther she could fall, in her parent’s eyes. It nearly made her grin.

  “Go ahead, ‘Shira, let him know,” Jenna said.

  Keshira looked at her, smiling in a pleasant way. “You called me ‘Shira’.”

  Jenna looked at her, then shrugged. “Yeah, I did. Don’t you like it?”

  Keshira nodded. “I… I do like it. That’s a nickname?”

  Jenna nodded.

  Keshira nodded and smiled again. “The Captain has been notified,” she said, then turned to resume working on cleaning the deck.

  The newcomer twisted his head back and forth between the two women. His confusion and curiosity was nearly palpable. Jenna saw and could not help laughing in spite of herself. He trembled a little and looked to Bekka.

  “Keshira is a pleasure golem,” the bald half elf said. “She is a magical construct created to be a servant. She is bonded to the Captain.”

  “A pleasure golem?” He asked. “She is his servant? You mean he… She’s beautiful, but a construct in bed?”

  Jenna bristled. “No,” she said more sharply than she intended. “The Captain does not share his bed with her.”

  Bekka smiled and glanced away; pretending not to notice Jenna’s sudden reaction. Zhirt reacted as expected, shrinking back from Jenna’s barely controlled display of anger. They lapsed into an awkward silence for several minutes until, at long last, Dexter and Jodyne returned. Dexter paused while Jodyne took a sack bulging with only the cook knew what below to restock the larder.

  “You must be Zhirt,” Dexter said, coming up the gangplank and looking suspiciously at the cloaked man. “I might be happy to be at your service, but you’ll have to show your face first.”

  Zhirt looked at him for a long moment then raised his hands and grudgingly pulled the hood back to reveal a handsome man’s face. He had reddish brown hair, including a sparse beard and mustache, and faintly elvish features.

  “No reason to hide that,” Dexter said with a wary smile.

  Zhirt did not smile, nor did he look relieved. He kept glancing at Jenna nervously, expecting her to show some reaction to him.

  “You two know each other?” Dexter asked, turning to look at his first mate.

  Jenna shook her head. “Just met him,” she said. “I think he’s nervous because he’s a half-elf and I’m an elf. Expect he thinks I’ll clap him in irons and eat his children any minute now.”

  “You’d do that?” Dexter asked, looking at her in surprise.

  Jenna shook her head. “Just ate, sorry.”

  Dexter shrugged and looked back to Zhirt. “See, there you go, no threat from her. So, how can I help you?”

  Zhirt’s eyes widened and he turned to leave. Bekka’s hand on his arm and whispered reassurance made him stay, although grudgingly. He looked at Dexter and pointedly ignored Jenna.

  “Captain, I don’t think it’s safe for us to be out in the open,” he said. “Can we go below deck?”

  “Sure we can,” Dexter said with a steely smile. “Thing is we won’t. Not until you tell me why I’m to be worried about you being safe to talk to.”

  “Captain, please,” Bekka added.

  Dexter looked at her and then nodded. “Alright, you got her vouching for you, you’d best not mess that up friend.”

  Jenna led the way below deck, heading to the spiral staircase that delivered them to the ship’s small galley. She sat next to Dexter on one side while Bekka and Zhirt sat opposite them at the table. Behind them Jodyne was still putting away her latest purchases.

  “Talk,” Dexter said, leaning forward.

  He glanced at Jenna then nodded, more to himself than to Dexter, and began. “I lived in a small settlement, Grifford’s End.”

  “It’s a small rock on the edge of a vast void of nothingness deep in the Elven Empire,” Jenna offered, confirming that much of his story.

  He nodded. “The elves came a few months ago and captured us all. Said something about relocating us for our own safety. We spent weeks in cells in the hull of a ship, fed but forced to dwell in our own filth. When we finally docked we were taken away to what they said was our new home..”

  “I managed to slip away unnoticed,” he said, shuddering at the memory. “I hid as best I could until I managed to stowaway on a supply ship. From there I worked passage out of the Empire.”

  “Congratulations,” Dexter said drily. “I’m not needing more crew right now, so you’ll come to your point soon?”

  Zhirt looked at him, a little surprised, but nodded. “My friends… family, they’re still there. We were taken to Fort Prudence, less than a score of them survived, and-“

  “Fort Prudence?” Jenna asked, interrupting him. “The shipyard?”

  Zhirt nodded.

  “Dex, we’re done here,” Jenna said, her body language indicating she was ready to get up and move on.

  “Fort Prudence is a shipyard?” Dexter asked.

  Zhirt and Jenna both nodded.

  “They grow mostly warships there,” Jenna said. “It’s supposed to be secret though, or at least its location is. Not a standard planet or moon, it’s a living ship itself that moves around slowly.”

  Dexter nodded thoughtfully. “And your people?”

  “Slaves,” Zhirt said in a rush. “Imprisoned in the tunnels and forced to care for the fort.”

  “Slaves, eh?” Dexter turned to look at Bekka, a glint in his eye. “You spoke for him on deck, so you’ve heard his story?”

  She nodded.

  “What do you think?”

  “Dex-” Jenna tried to interrupt. Dexter put a hand gently on hers, silencing her with the familiar gesture.

  “No, Captain, you’ll hear me out or strip me of my position,” she insisted, glaring hotly at him. “Fort Prudence is the human name for a military base. There are hundreds of elves there, and at least a hundred of them soldiers in the Elven Navy. More come and go every day.”

  “There’s no safe way in; no excuse or cover that will allow the Voidhawk to land. They won’t even tow a captive ship into the docks, for fear of contagion. Remember, Fort Prudence is a living ship too.”

  “I’m sorry, Zhirt, I really am,” Jenna said, looking at him and surprising him with the empathy she displayed. “But going there will only get us killed.”

  “I can pay,” he said in a choked off voice.

  “Captain,” Bekka said, touching Zhirt on the arm to silence him herself. “I know the risk is great. I would not have brought him here if I did not believe it possible. Tell them of your idea.”

  The lost half-elf looked to Bekka, seeming to draw strength from her encouraging smile, and then took a breath to speak. “The port is on the topside. Beneath there are roots that are woven together to act as a hull. They are littered with passages, to allow my people to tend to them and bring them water and food.”

  “Don’t they patrol the fort?” Dexter asked.

  “I memorized the schedules of when ships came and went, but mostly they were supply ships,” Zhirt said hopefully.

  Dexter looked to Jenna, who maintained an expressionless mask. She returned his gaze and sighed. “It’s a hidden base,” she conceded, “what need is there to patrol something you can not find?”

  “If it’s hidden, how do we find it?” Dexter asked.

  “Captain, may I speak with you in private?” Jenna said, standing up from the table stiffly.

  Dexter looked at her, a smile
dying on his lips even as it began to form. He looked to the others and shrugged. “Normally I’d put her in her place and remind her this is my ship. Maybe have her whipped too; she could use a good whipping I reckon.”

  “This time though, she might just know something we don’t,” he added, standing up.

  Jenna glared at him and walked stiffly away as soon as he started to rise. She headed to their now shared quarters and waited inside, her entire body taught with energy and anger.

  Dexter shut the door behind him and turned to face her, an angry expression in his own eyes that made Jenna stumble over her prepared words in surprise.

  “I meant that,” Dexter told her, his tone neutral but deadly serious. “This is my boat. Do not ever undermine my authority again.”

  Recovering herself, Jenna met his gaze and asked, “Or what? You going to leave me on the dock? Toss me out into the Void? Dexter, you need to understand-“

  “No!” Dexter snapped, stepping closer to her so that his face was inches from hers. “You need understand this, Jenna: This is my ship. This is my crew. What we do is my choice and my responsibility.”

  “Even if it gets us all killed?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “Captain, that madman wants you to invade an Elvan shipyard; we’ll be lucky if we’re all killed!”

  “This ship isn’t run by vote,” he said, turning back to the door.

  “Dex, please! Listen to me,” Jenna said, her tone softening in spite of her anger.

  Dexter paused, his back to her and his hand on the latch of the door. “Speak,” he said.

  She stared at the back of his head for a long minute before finding what she wanted to say that would not drive him out the door. “Who almost died last time? You. Not me, not Rosh, not Jodyne, not anyone else. You can’t protect us all, and you can’t even protect me.”

  She saw his shoulders tighten and knew he was about to storm out. “Dex, I know how you feel about me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not running from you and I’m not going to risk my life by doing anything stupid.”

  He turned around to face her, his face not revealing his thoughts.

  “These milk runs you’ve got us doing are safe, but they’re killing us. We don’t train – we’re not soldiers, but we’re getting rusty. When something does happen, we could have forgotten how to hold our swords. You can get mad and yell at me all you want, it won’t matter,” she said. “This job is going to be bloody. It’s the right thing to do, but I don’t think we can do it.”

  “You think we should just let them die? You’re an elf, you know better than I do what’s going on,” Dexter said, an accusatory tone in his words.

  Jennanarrowed her eyes angrily, but she forced herself to relax. “I’ve never met anyone who can make me as mad as you do,” she admitted. “But I’ve never cared about anyone this much either.

  “I am an elf,” she said, nodding in acceptance. “But I’m not one of those elves. I don’t know what they’re doing; I left before they started doing this sort of thing. I can imagine though. And don’t think you can leave me behind. You can kick me off the ship and leave me tied up on the dock, but sooner or later I’ll get out. Then I’ll do whatever I have to so I can get on another ship and follow you.”

  “Besides,” she added with a smirk, “I know where Fort Prudence is.”

  “Are you done?” Dexter asked her, his tone stealing her air of confidence. “Good,” he said after she nodded. “Don’t ever question my orders in front of my crew or in public again, got it?”

  Jenna nodded. It was the right thing to do; she knew it, even though it made her bite her lip to be rebuked.

  “On this side of that door,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the door that led out of their cabin, “there’s no rank. I need to know things like what you said. I may not like it, and I may 0not agree, but I need to hear it.”

  Jenna grinned. She surprised herself again at how deeply she cared for him and how much his approval meant to her. “Would you really have me whipped?”

  Dexter chuckled and shook his head. “Depends on whether you’d like it or not!”

  He left her in the room with her mouth open in surprise. Then she laughed and shrugged, thinking it might be a nice twist sometime.

  Back down the hallway Dexter walked past the table and turned to Zhirt and Bekka, who fell silent as he approached. “See that he’s got a bunk, Bekka, I expect half up front, we’ll be needing some special supplies for something like this.”

  “You’re going to help?” Zhirt asked, his eyes lighting up with hope.

  Dexter nodded. “Bekka’s my navigator and helmsman, you be sure and let her know where this flying salad is at.”

  Human Nature

  By Jason Halstead

  “Medic!”

  Dawn cursed under her breath, proving she could speak as fluently as the soldier who once wore her jacket. She ran, heading in a straight line across the broken pavement until she slid shoulder first into the side of the van the squad hid behind. The echo of gunfire, both near and afar, rang in her ears. The noise made it impossible for her to hear the shouted instructions of the soldier nearby.

  He pointed at a fallen man and she nodded, grabbing her kit and moving up to him. The man had a hand to his neck, covered in blood. She fought the urge to grimace; the odds were not good. Blood ran from a cut on his chin as well, trickling down to mix with the blood pooled in the hollow of his throat.

  She readied some gauze and pulled the man’s hand away, expecting a spurt of blood to come her way. It did not. With an almost audible sigh of relief she wiped at the blood and saw more well up immediately from the hole in the man’s neck. A hole that she now realized would not be fatal.

  Smiling at the small miracle, she poured some of the disinfectant powder on it and through a couple of quick stitches in the wound to close it. Another piece of cloth to act as a bandage and then some tape and she was done.

  The ratcheting noise of bullets slamming into the van made her jerk and duck down. She looked up a minute later, breathing fast and hard. The wounded soldier grinned at her and gave her a thumbs up, then said, “Thanks Doc!”

  “Don’t make a habit of it,” she replied, talking too loudly because of her partial deafness.

  He nodded and rolled back, picking up his rifle to rejoin the fight. Dimly she heard another distant call. It came from behind her, the other side of their force. The other side of the ambush they’d walked into. She dared not close her eyes for the moment she wanted to. Peace and solitude was no longer available to her. None of the human race had the right anymore, it seemed. None of the survivors, at least.

  With a grunt she was up and running, the soldiers behind her offering some covering fire. Ammunition was more valuable than gold, but a medic ranked pound for pound like platinum. She made it and found there was nothing for her to do, the woman hissed out her last breath in her arms moments after she arrived. Dawn Vincent moved on as best she could, leaving the body behind and heading for the next victim that needed her help.

  By the time the fight ended 17 people had been injured. Of those nine were dead and she knew three more would join them soon. Another four were questionable, but she did her best to help them out. Battlefield triage was never what she had in mind; she used to be a physicians assistant in a obstetrics ward. Babies. She grew up wanting to help bring babies into the world.

  There weren’t many babies anymore, just kids picking up their fathers guns and trying to defend themselves. Instead of witnessing the miracle of birth she was struggling to keep people alive.

  They were moving through what used to be the southern edges of Chicago. It still was a nice city, if you didn’t mind the destruction and intense radiation downtown the northern edges would bring. She was part of a moving band of survivors. They scavenged and searched for a place to call home. Apparently this time they’d found a dirty little hole somebody else already hung their hat in. She heard the final count was
nearly three dozens snipers had been waiting for them and tore them up pretty good. Oh sure, they had almost a hundred people, but these days life was sacred. Their lives, at least. Others too, if they weren’t too busy shooting to listen to offers of peace.

  “Hey Doc, how’s it going?”

  Dawn jerked out of her private reverie. She tried to smile but failed. “Same old, different day Mike. The Colonel itching for a report already?”

  “Wouldn’t be the Colonel if he wasn’t,” the man said.

  Dawn sighed. “All right, take me.”

  “Anytime Doc, anytime,” he said, his friendly smile letting her know the double entendre was intended, but still a joke.

  “Keep dreaming ell-tee, you know you officers aren’t supposed to consort with us non-coms,” she tried to tease back.

  “That was before, these days anything goes.”

  Dawn chuckled. “Not quite everything, big guy.”

  He affected a wounded expression and slapped his hand over his heart. “You’re killing me Doc, but I bet you got the medicine I need.”

  She rolled her eyes, which made him laugh and give up at the same time. “All right, let’s go.”

  “How can you make jokes after a day like this?” She asked him as they walked through the hastily erected campfires and shelters.

  “How can you not?” He replied.

  She thought about it and nodded. “Good point.”

  The command center was the back end of a semi truck. The walls had been reinforced with extra sheet metal and some other stuff in between. One of the engineers they’d picked up said it was a layered armor or something. Dawn didn’t know and didn’t care; she rarely got invited into the command truck. It scared her, being around the man who’s decisions affected the lives of everyone in their group.