On the family homestead, Fern Everdean noticed strange things had begun to happen. Crops withered. Livestock suddenly died. All without explanation. When she suggested calling for assistance from bounty hunters, everyone apart from her seemed against it. Never comfortable obeying orders, Fern contacted Star Fighters Inc who sent Kris to her planet, a sexy, young but badly scarred bounty hunter nursing a hatred of pirates and an embarrassing dry spell that made him want her all the more. Together they discover sordid secrets about her planet and themselves.
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Edenvale’s Secret
Copyright © 2010 Liberty Stafford
ISBN: 978-1-55487-522-1
Cover art by Angela Waters
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Edenvale’s Secret
Star Fighters Book 1
By
Liberty Stafford
Dedication
To the stars
Chapter One
Business as Usual
Five past midnight and Hudson Brody, founder and long serving leader of Star Fighters, was still working. Nothing unusual there. With a universe full of bad guys and girls, there was always plenty of work for Star Fighters, the best bounty hunting business the universe had ever succumbed to. Hudson ripped out a fax just as it finished whirring and screeching annoyingly through his machine. He stomped back to his large leather chair, dropped like a stone into it and began to read with a frown. A grimace spread over his face and it was hard to tell whether he was amused or angered.
Hudson found the fax hard to read because of the way he had ripped and crushed the paper and frowned to find yet another request for assistance. Business was good, too good, and the bounty hunters were all feeling the strain. Some had not been back to the HQ for many months or longer, simply moving from one job to the next. They might have been getting richer, but they were also exhausted. Hudson felt concerned for them. His hunters were already world weary, that was why they came to work for him in the first place, and Hudson knew the value of rest but, at the moment, he was unable to give any. He continued to read the request form.
To: Hudson Brody, Star Fighters
From: Fern Evergreen
System: Agri Hub
Planet: Dania
Current Address: The Old Grain Store, Edenvale, West Dania 5
Previous Addresses: B Land System, Steeler, Worm Hole 9th Street
Race: Steeler
Identity Number: 0479STE8964-S
Previous Contact With Star Fighters: None
Your Problem In Detail:
I live in a rural village. We pride ourselves on tradition and farming in the ancient ways. Recently, some strange things have been happening here. Cattle have been dying. Plants have been destroyed. Strange new crops have appeared. We fear that someone is trying to undermine our society. We have enough currency to pay your bounty and request that someone is sent to investigate our troubles as soon as possible. Please help.
Name of Bounty To Be Collected: Unknown
Any Other Information: None.
Hudson sighed and stood. This was no simple job. Just what their already busy schedule was in need of—more time consuming endeavours He moved slowly over to the transparent screen on the rear wall of his office. It accepted his palm print and retinal scan. A list of available hunters blinked on the screen. Not many. As he scanned each of the available faces, Hudson recalled all he knew about Agri Hub. Apart from being one of the planets which supplied foodstuffs to the universe, he knew precious little else. Hudson reached his brawny arm across the screen and dragged in the planetary information. He grimaced again.
“Pirates,” Hudson growled with contempt.
Gala 6 in the Agri Hub system was full of pirates. No military presence, no native inhabitants, just pirates and an economy based entirely on thievery. Crops and meat were expensive commodities the further you went away from the Agri Hub. Fresh red steaks could be traded for weapons in some planets. A red alert flashed on screen. Hudson pressed it.
“Last known residence of Grey Ventura,” Hudson nodded sarcastically. “Right.”
With the leader of the Ratt pirates in the same system, Hudson made the immediate decision to assign Kris as hunter to this job. Kris venomously, bitterly hated pirates, with good reason, and possibly knew more about them than any other of his hunters. Kris made it his business to know his enemy, something Hudson positively condoned—he did the same with the politicians.
Hudson scrolled to information on the hunter, Kris. His photograph appeared on screen—a handsome earthling with short, dark hair, and pointed sideburns across a rocky jaw line. His nose was thick and strong, his cheeks high, and his thick neck led down to a pair of broad, heavily muscled shoulders. Kris’s forearms were also particularly strong whereas the remainder of his body was athletically built and he could outrun most species with ease.
Hudson smirked as he read Kris’s file, particularly the part about distinguishing features for Kris had a large scar from a barbed whip that ran right around his torso as if he had been half-peeled. This mark was just one more reason why Kris detested pirates.
Six foot five, slightly smaller than Hudson himself, Kris was a force to be reckoned with. He never forgot an enemy. Only twenty-four years old, Kris looked at least five years older. His eyes were a cold silver, virtually unreadable, a deadly cloak for his raging emotions.
Hudson’s hand hovered over Kris’s file, ready to swipe it out of the way to choose another. Hudson knew that, particularly lately, Kris’s hatred of pirates had been becoming obsessive. For some reason, however, Hudson decided to keep Kris for the job. Hudson liked Kris. He felt he understood that something primeval drove him and hoped that contact with pirates might give Kris some closure, maybe even some revenge, for killing his parents.
Pressing his communications device, Hudson growled, “Kris?”
“Here,” he replied, his voice like a dark whisper.
“My office.”
“New job?”
“Interested?”
“Be right there, sir.”
True to his word, Kris stood to attention on the dark tiled floor of Hudson’s office, looking tall and mean in his trademark black cargo pants, shiny bulled hi-leg boots and maroon tee-shirt, which was tightly glued to his muscular physique.
“At ease,” Hudson began and called up the information on Agri Hub. “Step up and take a look at this.”
“Agri Hub?” Kris mused. “Never been there.”
“Four Worm Holes from here,” Hudson demonstrated on screen, “I chose you because I think there’s a strong likelihood pirates could be behind this one.”
Kris’s face tightened. “Good. I would like to meet some pirates again.”
“Yes,” Hudson agreed. �
��I think you need to. However, Kris, you must promise me that you will use discretion.”
“Of course.”
“And tread carefully. I understand the pain. I understand your need for revenge. Just don’t let your past turn your present into something obsessively vengeful. Don’t become a killer. Don’t let that blackness eat into you so that there’s no turning back.”
Kris’s brow furrowed. “I can’t make that promise, sir. I have too much respect for you to lie. But, I’ll try.”
“Good,” Hudson replied, already beginning to doubt his choice of hunter. “Then this is your mission. Read this fax.”
“The information’s sketchy, at best. Could be crop failure rather than anything more sinister.”
“Of course,” Hudson agreed, “but they have a bounty ready for us and we are duty bound to check out the situation now they’ve made contact. There is one planet in the system to look out for—Gala 6. The rest appear safe at present. We had supposed it to be uninhabitable but the pirate leader, Grey Ventura, is believed to be in residence there. I think if there’s anybody can help you put your demons to bed, Kris, it will be him. Keep careful watch.”
Kris clenched his fists, “Yes. I agree. Thank you, sir, for this opportunity.”
Hudson remained uncertain about his decision and hoped he was not about to unleash something crueller than piracy upon the agricultural system. “More about the planet, Kris. This is Dania.”
“Very like earth,” Kris studied the board.
“Yes. There’s a wide range of terrain, mountains, fields, one ocean, four seas, one moon. There’s no city there, just agricultural settlements since their soil is about as rich and fertile as you’ll find anywhere in the universe.”
“Now that earth’s ecology has been ruined,” Kris added sarcastically.
“Your contact, Fern Evergreen, is located westerly, near the Cerulean ocean, by a tributary stream called Aqua Arm One.”
Hudson pulled up on screen a magnified scene of rural utopia where the Star Fighter satellite relayed back pictures of seemingly gentle people farming in fields of bright yellow crops, working by tidy looking houses under a clean sky.
“Edenvale,” Kris murmured with an edge of sarcasm.
“Your contact is, of course, a Steeler, as you will have read.”
“Anything on them?” Kris asked.
Hudson pulled up the relevant information. An outline sketch of a male and female Steeler appeared on screen, life-size, two beings with pale yellow skin. Orange mottles cover their skin in the place where human eyebrows would appear and also exist on their necks, collarbones, fingers, genitalia, ankles and toes. Their eyes, they read, have a subtle orange glow to aid them when working in the dark. Their hair is dark shades of brown to black and they have an orange tint to their nails and lips.
Hudson gave a half-smile, “Male genitalia are hidden. It pops out when they are aroused. As far as we know, the females are parallel down there to earth women. That’s the usual question I get asked when the species information begins.”
Apparently Hudson’s attempt at humour fell flat as Kris continued to scan the outlines, seemingly oblivious of anything else.
“It says here,” Hudson coughed and continued, “that many Steelers left their planet when four gaseous planets nearby began to orbit too close which affected their own air supply. That disaster happened about ten years ago and happens approximately every eighty years. They call it Hazing. Each time there is a mass exodus to other planets, particularly within the same system, so their agricultural skills can be put to use. Recently, Steeler was discovered by humanoids, many from earth, and they have begun an agricultural robotics experiment in order to prepare for the next onslaught from their sister planets, so they can survive instead of abandoning the area when the next Hazing happens.”
“Interesting concept,” Kris replied, again with an edge of sarcasm. “Since earth has lost interest in much of its agriculture because funding has gone towards the Planetary Colonisation programmes instead, my family migrated elsewhere, with their farm, their animals, their roots and their history snapped up for a pittance by building developers. I see this happening for all other agricultural planets. We live in a universe obsessed with discovery of the new rather than protection of the ancient.”
“I wasn’t aware of that,” said Hudson. “Seems I have, after all, chosen the right man for the job. Most probably your contact found herself displaced at the last Hazing and headed to Dania from Steeler.”
“It seems sensible she should seek refuge on another agricultural planet,” Kris agreed.
Hudson went back to the map of the universe, “Agri Hub is only one Worm Hole away. When you look at the beauty of the Agri Hub and its similarities to home, I’ll bet Dania is full of refugees from Steeler.”
Kris nodded in agreement, constantly in awe of Hudson’s seemingly bottomless knowledge about the universe.
“There’s a ship leaving early tomorrow, Kris. Are you willing to accept this mission?”
“Yes, sir,” Kris stood to attention.
“And do me a favour. See the robonurse tonight for your jabs,” Hudson grinned, knowing full well why some hunters visited the pretty robots before they left for a strange system. “And see Ward. Judging by your last mission, you’ll need to top up your weaponry.”
“Sir.”
“Dismissed, soldier.”
Kris marched away, the doors swooshing shut behind him, leaving Hudson to ponder his decision in silence. Before he could lose himself in contemplation, the fax began to whirr, the email binged and his telephone rang. Hudson muttered something profane. Business as usual.
Chapter Two
Medical Sessions
As Kris strode along the metal grilled walkways back to his dormitory, several people smiled at him and made an attempt at eye contact. He ignored them all. As far as he was concerned, it was pointless to make friends in a place he didn’t intend to stay. Once he had avenged his parents, he could go back and seek some semblance of normal life, perhaps on Earth. What Kris did not plan on was the way Star Fighters had gotten into his blood. When he slept, he dreamed about it, apart from the recurring nightmares about his parents.
When he awoke, Star Fighter was all around him—the dormitory, the canteen, the offices, his new home if he would but admit it. Since his parents had died, Kris had not admitted to himself that his life had changed so vastly. In fact, he was living in a state of denial, a state of freefall, where the gravity of loneliness and the fierce grip of anger pulled him dangerously towards hard earth. Kris needed to either reach for his chute and flare hard or he would hit the floor at speed. He was a man barely grasping at self-control, walking the razor’s edge.
After a quick retinal scan and thumbprint, Kris’s dormitory door slid open. He was back in the safety and solitary confinement he desired. None of the other hunters made Kris want to open up or chat. Instead, he read books or watched TV or, more often than not, went to the gymnasium to burn off his aggression and blank out his busy mind. Other than that, there were briefings and tasks to be done. Kris ensured he was never without a purpose as that would involve having to think and self-analyse. He was not at all ready for that.
One person, if you could call him that, knew Kris better than he knew himself. Unable to cope with the paralysing emotions and thoughts that haunted him, Kris went to the HQ doctor, a holograph who was unable to judge or gossip. In his psychiatrist program, the Doc had eased Kris’s guilt somewhat, at least for a time, until it built to breaking point again.
It was then that the Doc prescribed some alone time with the robonurse, “Something to relieve the tension and fill the time” he said. In the meantime, the Doc had encouraged Kris to find some sort of closure. Perhaps Hudson had given Kris just the opportunity he needed to sort himself out. Perhaps Hudson was privy to personal information from the doctor, something that might have hinted at danger to a hunter or his colleagues.
Kris booked a sessio
n with the Doc before he shipped out the next day as he felt the need for calm before a lengthy journey cooped up with strangers. Their session was short, as little progress was being made, and the Doc began to touch on the tricky subject of dreams.
“So tell me, Mr. Kris,” he tapped the eraser of a yellow pencil against his wrinkled beige skin. “How have your dreams been since our last session?”
“The same,” Kris mused with his eyes closed.
“Describe them for me.”
“Again? I suppose so. Well, I’m on the ship with my parents. We strap ourselves in, we smile at each other, and the ship leaves earth. We’re bound for Saturn so they can start their jobs with Saturn Tours.”
“And then?” pressed the doc.
“Then we hear a scraping noise. Even the stewardesses look worried. They stop serving meals and disappear somewhere. Pirates rip open the top of the ship. They storm right down the aisles—filthy and stinking, with knives brandished over their heads, cutting through the necks of those who turn around to see what is going on.”
“Continue,” the doc said. “What about your parents? What did they say to you? How did they act?”
Kris exhaled. “They told me to look straight ahead. Mother held my hand on one side and dad’s the other. They whispered to me to keep quiet.”
“And how did you feel?”
“Angered. I was fourteen years old. I was strong and able. I’d had plenty of fights at school.”
“So?”
“So when one of them walked past me, I was on the aisle seat, I tripped him over, jumped on him, punched him, grabbed his gun and hit him on the head with it. He was out cold. I pointed the gun at another of the pirates and shouted for them to stop. I shouted for the other passengers to fight. Nobody did.”
“But the pirates did not stop, did they?”
“No.” Kris’s hands and arms tightened upon the arms of the chair.
“Relax,” doc ordered in a calm tone. “Continue, please.”
“I don’t see why I keep having to repeat all this!” Kris replied, agitated.
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