The Starhawk Chronicles: Rest and Wreck-reation

by Joseph J. Madden

  The worst of the sick and wounded not able to be treated at Valhalla’s medical facilities were transferred to Solace, including young Kebbe, whose condition had worsened since the flight from the mines. Salga had attended him as best as she was able, then insisted on accompanying him to the waiting frigate, where, Jesse was told, he would receive the best care possible.

  The captain of the Liberator and a small contingent of officers had set up a command post at the White Star, and swiftly set about the business of conducting an inquest to investigate the circumstances of the revolt and determine who, if anyone, was to blame for the events of the last day. Rhasti and others under his command turned themselves in willingly, claiming full responsibility for their actions. Hundreds more came forward, testifying on behalf of the rebel leaders. Former prisoners, as well as disgruntled Boke employees like Captain Gren and Madjo Denseph, filed reports testifying to the crimes Boke and others under his command committed against innocents and his own people. As word of the events on Utopia spread across the galactic news waves, even more Boke employees from worlds other than Utopia aired their grievances about abuse within the ranks to any newscaster willing to listen to their story, many even offering to make the trip to Utopia to testify in person.

  When questioned as to who had killed Arigh Boke, no one seemed to know, and no mention was ever made of the involvement of the crew of the Starhawk.

  By the end of the third day of inquests, the committee had decided that Boke’s own actions were responsible for the revolt. Boke’s corporate assets were frozen until a more complete investigation could be undertaken, sending the corporate lawyers screaming about lawsuits, and investors scrambling to rid themselves of any interests in Boke enterprises. No charges would come against the leaders of the resistance movement at the present time. Boke’s demise was ruled as “death by misadventure.”

  As that third day of investigations drew to a close, the general consensus was that Rhasti and the others had acted in the best interests of those that could not help themselves and were released on their own recognizance, provided they did not try to leave Utopia until they were formally cleared of any wrongdoing.

  Jesse met with Rhasti for the first time that evening, on the observation deck surrounding Boke’s private club atop the White Star. The Mandasi had greeted him with his characteristic wide grin, and shook his hand vigorously. They then leaned on the railing, watching as the sun began to set across the cityscape.

  Most of Valhalla City was dark with only a few buildings running on minimal power. The White Star was the exception. The building was ablaze with light, just as on any normal evening. As well as acting as a command post for the Confederation security force, the resort now acted as a temporary home to the many displaced prisoners and former employees who were awaiting transport off-world to their homes elsewhere.

  “The captain of the Liberator was telling me that with Boke’s assets frozen, Utopia would most likely become a protectorate of the Confederation until it can be decided what should be done with it. Better to keep the corporate scavengers at bay,” Jesse said. “There’s already talk of giving it to the survivors as recompense for all they’ve gone through. Seems fitting.”

  “For some, maybe,” Rhasti replied. “For others, it will just always be a reminder of what they suffered here. And for some, it will never be payment enough.”

  Jesse considered that. “Still no word on your brother or his wife?”

  Rhasti looked at him, shaking his head. “Nothing. I suppose it was what I expected all along. I was there when those transports disembarked. No Mandasi at all.”

  “And I don’t recall seeing any. Granted I wasn’t taking a census of just how many races were down there, but I think if there was a Mandasi, I would have noticed.”

  Rhasti sighed, turning his gaze back out over the city. “I suppose in the end, it doesn’t matter. I came here with the goal of freeing my family, and instead we freed and reunited a whole lot more. I think Vash and Lorou would be okay with knowing that, in some round-about way, their deaths would allow so many more to live.”

  “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” Jesse quoted.

  “Or the one,” Rhasti finished. “A rational transaction. I can live with it.”

  “So what do you do now?” Jesse asked. “Return home?”

  A wry look crept across the Mandasi’s face. “Not sure. In a strange way, I’ve come to think of this world as my home. Maybe I’ll stay behind, even if they say I can leave. Help rebuild. Make sure things are better for those who follow, and to watchdog that something like what happened here never happens again.”

  Jesse straightened, and offered his hand once more. “You see something like that happening, you be sure to give us a call.”

  Rhasti took the hand and pulled Jesse into an embrace. “You’ll be first on my list.”

  They parted then, Jesse turning and heading for his ship, and Rhasti staring off into the sunset, contemplating the future.

  Standing at the Starhawk’s underside cargo hatch, Jesse allowed himself a few moments to pause from loading the last crates of supplies and tools to gaze at the spectacle that was filling the night sky all over Valhalla. Someone, somewhere, had found several crates of fireworks and had decided to put them to good use.

  With the last of the crates loaded, Jesse cycled the hatch shut. Above him, the ship rumbled as the others brought the engines on line. Time to slip out of this party.

  “Not leaving without saying goodbye, are you?” A voice from behind caused him to start.

  “We wanted to slip out quietly,” he answered, moving his hand away from his holster where it had moved by instinct. “We’re not fond of drawn-out goodbyes. Besides, any more good publicity could ruin our image. After all, bounty hunters aren’t supposed to be nice.”

  He looked the newcomer over, adding, “Was getting worried. Hadn’t seen or heard from you since the arena.”

  “Felt the need to disappear for a bit,” Raychel replied. “Needed to get my head straight. Killing a man can do that to a person.”

  Jesse caught the look in her eyes. “Now don’t you go beating yourself up for that. Boke more than had it coming to him, and there isn’t a person that was there that wouldn’t have testified that you did it in defense of another. Which, by the way, I have to thank you for that.”

  “Only seemed fair,” she said.

  “Any word on your friend?”

  “Salga’s still with him on board that medical ship. She’s been keeping me updated. She says Kebbe’s in good spirits, but the doctors are still unsure about his prognosis. There’s a good chance that he may not be able to walk, despite everything they’re doing.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It could have been worse, a lot worse, if you didn’t do what you did. Any longer in that mine and he’d probably be dead. We all would.” She leaned forward, standing on her toes, and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

  Jesse felt himself blush, and was grateful that the fireworks overhead would disguise the fact. “Do you need a ride anywhere?”

  Raychel shook her head. “I’ll actually be hitching a ride up to the medical ship tomorrow morning. And Salga said I can travel with her until I can find other family to settle with. So I’m good.”

  Jesse couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve certainly proven yourself to be resourceful. You’ll be just fine. Your father would be proud.”

  Raychel’s eyes welled with tears, and she made no effort to hold them back. She took his hand. “Thank you. Thank you for proving my father didn’t die in vain.”

  “And thank you,” he said, adding when he saw the puzzled look she shot him, “For a short time, you gave me my little sister back.”

  He pulled her into an embrace, and as she clung to him, had to fight back the surge of emotion sweeping through him. He planted a kiss on top of her head before releasing her.

  Raychel snuffled a bit as she stepped away.
“You should probably get going.”

  Jesse turned for the ship, pausing to give her a quick wink. She gave him a small wave, and, he thought as he headed into the ship, there was the slightest hint of a sigh.

  ***

  “You got her ready?” Jesse asked, stepping onto the bridge, finding everyone at their stations.

  Seated at the controls, K’Tran called back over his shoulder. “She’s ready, all right. Let’s get off this rock.”

  Jesse shot his friend a bemused glance. “K’Tran, I’m surprised at you. You sound like you didn’t enjoy our little vacation.”

  K’Tran half-turned and shot him an incredulous look. “Vacation? Hell, I can’t wait to get back to work so we can relax a little!”

  Jesse chuckled, settling into his command chair. “No argument there, my friend.” He looked around at the rest of his crew, his friends. Despite all that had happened in the past few days, they did look rested, relaxed. We did have fun. He pointed out the viewport. “Let’s go home.”

  The Starhawk rose from the Utopian surface, heading for the stars.

  ***

  The crew of the Starhawk will return in The Starhawk Chronicles, Book III: The Royal Nonesuch.

  Admissions, Apologies, and Acknowledgements

  A Note from the Author

  Okay, I think it’s safe to say that I had a lot of fun with this one.

  Despite some of the darker issues at hand in this story—corporate corruption, slavery, torture, the suffering of innocents, all those fun things—I tried to keep it as light as possible. If you’ve read the first Starhawk novel, or my short story collection Other Worlds, (And if you haven’t, why not???) you’ve by now realized that I am not, nor do I aspire to be another Clark, Bradbury or Azimov, despite my love and admiration of their works. Indeed, once I started getting really into the writing of this one, it was more like my inner Jerry Bruckheimer/Michael Bay started rising to the surface. That’s all right. I can live with that. My reason for writing is to enjoy the experience, which I truly did. My only hope is that you, the reader, did as well.

  That was the admission portion. Now to make my apologies.

  Again, if you have read the first Starhawk novel, you may have noticed the exclusion of a certain prominent character from this work. I’m talking about Kayla Karson, the independent bounty hunter that became wildly popular with readers, and myself. The truth is, when I first started developing this story, while still working on the original, Kayla was just as involved as she was the first time out, a major player. This is because, at the end of the original draft of the first book, Kayla became a part of the Starhawk crew, and that remained true right up until I went to publication, when I decided the ending was just a little too happy, too Disney. So I wrote her out, justifying that she wanted to remain independent, for a while at least. It was, and still is my intention to bring her back later.

  Leaving Kayla out of this one did open up the opportunity to let Kym Tirannis take some of the spotlight. I felt that the Starhawk’s engineer was more of a background character the first time out, and wanted to bring her into the spotlight and shine this time around, which I think she did beautifully.

  In all honesty, I did try to bring Kayla into the story. For a very short time, she replaced the character of Mynx. The problem with this was, like Mynx, she had no interaction with Jesse. A big highlight of the first book was the interplay between those two characters. The snarky, somewhat sexual tension between Jesse and Kayla was a standout for readers. The way the plot worked out for this one, Kayla would have done Mynx’s job, then pretty much said to Podo and the others, “Tell Forster I said hi.” before walking off into the sunset. I decided it worked best for everyone involved that she just sit this one out.

  For those of you who are fans of the character, fear not. She will be coming back in a very big way. First up is her own solo adventure Huntress, which will expand upon her back story, only hinted at briefly in Book I. After that, she will return in Book III as a major player once again, and another possible solo adventure in the future. Watch for Huntress sometime late 2016, but for now, there is a short preview following these notes, so keep reading.

  Another sort-of apology is for all the Easter eggs sprinkled throughout the novel. I made some subtle references to other favorite genre works in Book I (I still wonder if anyone out there caught my Buck Rogers allusion. Have yet to hear.) In this book, I threw stuff in wherever it tickled my fancy, from the obvious Firefly and Doctor Who shout-outs, to a few (somewhat) more subtle(?) bits of dialogue gleaned from other works. My defense? I have a great love and affection for all those works mentioned, it was fun to finagle them in, and I think it makes it more fun for readers to try and spot. Drop me a line if you think you’ve found them all.

  And now for some well deserved acknowledgements.

  First off, to Dan Lambert, whose awesome cover art helped sell the original book. (I know this because some readers have told me they bought it based solely on the strength of the cover.) Though at the time of this writing, the new cover has not been finalized, I know it will be just as epic as the original. I look forward to a long creative partnership with him.

  To Nancy Frankmano, Sylvie Filoselli, Chip Jackson, Ron Francis, Rex M. Gearhart and Joe Evans, administrators of the Facebook group Scifi Fandom (www.facebook.com/groups/SciFiTVFandom/) who have put up with my continuous, shameless self-promotions on their group page. Many group administrators ban any kind of promoting, but these wonderful people have been more than understanding and helpful. You guys rock!

  To beta-readers Mike McDermott, Jacqueline Driggers, and Ralph Guadagno, Jr., for taking the time out of their schedules to look over and catch any flaws in the manuscript (and there were many). You make me look a lot more professional than I really am.

  And to fellow writers Owen Quinn, J.W. Metcalf, Gershom Reese Wetzel, and Mark Bordner—my writing “Rat Pack”. (Not sure which of us is Sinatra.) This is a great group of talented writers who have been nothing but supportive during my journey, whether it be helping with promoting, beta-reading, or just keeping spirits up with dopey memes on Facebook. There is not a diva among them. I am providing teasers and sales links to their books on the following pages. Please support them and check them out. You will not be disappointed.

  And finally, to you, the readers who took a chance on reading the first novel of a previously unpublished author. If you are reading this, I am going to make the assumption that you must have enjoyed the first book enough to pick this one up. I hope that this one met with your expectations, and that you continue to follow the adventures of Jesse, Podo, and the others in years to come.

  Joseph J. Madden

  Read on for an excerpt from the firstStarhawk spin-off novel

  Huntress

  A Kayla Karson novel

  Coming late 2016

  Another volley of laserfire flashed past the viewport close enough to glance off of the shuttle’s shields, turning them momentarily opaque. A proximity alarm sounded in her headset and Kayla Karson slapped violently at the controls to silence it.

  “I can see that I’m being shot at. Don’t need it screamed at me too!” she shouted in frustration to the otherwise empty cockpit. She pulled hard over on the controls to evade, but the yacht was not designed for combat and responded like a Rycan slugfish. The maneuver only helped to put the ship more squarely in her pursuers’ line of fire. The shuttle bucked beneath her from another near miss.

  This is another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Kayla berated herself. For a moment, she thought to turn her ship around, to face her attacker head-on, but she knew that all that would accomplish would be her own death. The yacht’s shields were too weak. There was no way they would hold up against a full-on assault. So far her unknown assailant was firing to impede her progress and that was already causing problems. If she were to suddenly put pressure on whoever it was, the rules would change for certain.

  Another hit and the cabin rattled
around her. Several banks of panels dimmed or went dark altogether. She thought she smelled smoke, but could not tell from where. Matt’s going to kill me for breaking his ship.

  She rolled the yacht to one side, then hard over the other direction. The move backfired, her attacker anticipated the trick, laying down fire along her path. There was a jolt as several shots made contact with the hull, followed by a loud whump, and a hissing sound coming from the cabin behind her. Another panel went from green to amber.

  A sudden voice through Kayla’s headset confirmed what the amber panel was telling her. “Your life support is gone.” The voice sounded male, sounded human, but also like the speaker had spent its life gargling gravel, making confirmation impossible. “No sense in running any further.”

  “Who are you?”

  “You can either come with me willingly…”

  “Who are you?”

  “Or I can open your ship and carry you off after you’ve passed out.”

  “Who are you?!”

  “Your choice.”

  No point wasting my breath. Literally. This guy’s not going to answer. She weighed her options, of which there were not many. Running was out. She would deplete her air before she could get to the nearest outpost. Her attacker could easily run her down and disable the yacht’s drives, and she did not want to risk further damage to Matt’s ship.

  Surrender was not an option. Her father had drilled that into her at a young age. Ironic that the very thing he instilled in me would come back to bite him.

  Kayla cut her drives, making it at least seem that she was giving up, while trying to formulate a plan.