Of Hearts And Stars (Classic Editon) (The Cadet Starship Chronicles)

by West, Edward

  Swift waved his hand sharply as if to wipe away Ollie's doubts and fears and said “What? No! Where are you getting these ideas? You're my best friend! I need your help with this!”

  Ollie smiled. This was the first time he had ever been someone's best friend.

  “I can help even if I don't come along.” he said.

  Swift huffed and folded his arms again. He didn't want to argue with Ollie, but he also did not want to leave him behind.

  “What about Butch and his goon squad? Can you beat them alone?” he asked.

  Ollie laughed so suddenly that it surprised Swift.

  “Are you kidding me? I'm gonna avoid'em like the plague.”

  Swift sucked his teeth and said “Yeah, cause that's worked so well in the past. If that's the case then you're a chronic plague victim.”

  This did not bother Ollie, who came back with “One can only be a chronic plague victim if one is a chronic plague survivor. I've made it all of this time without your mighty iron fists after all. Either we keep debating this or we prepare to start the plan.”

  “Escape is the plan. The plan is freedom.” Swift said solemnly.

  “Yes.” Ollie said and this time he meant it.

  -15-

  The morning they had decided upon arrived, and Ollie stopped by Swift's room. After they exchanged their usual greeting by fist bump Ollie presented Swift with a white envelope. In it was a small amount of money.

  “What's this?” Swift asked without taking the envelope.

  “Money, a common article for bartering.” Ollie quipped.

  “I know what money is butt-head. I mean where did you get it and why are you giving it to me?”

  Ollie offered the envelope again and said “This is my life savings. I earned this while helping out Mr. Taylor in his shop. I figured you could use it more than me, and I won't be needing it.”

  Swift looked at the envelope as if it were something more sinister than money. It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach.

  “Why are you giving away your life savings so easily? You worked hard for it. Why do you think you will not need it?” he asked.

  Ollie held the envelope out even further and said “I already told you. What I actually need is to get out of here ASAP, and in order for that to happen I need you to succeed. Take the money.”

  Swift had to restrain the urge to ask Ollie to come with him. He knew it was no good. Still he didn't want take Ollie's savings. Swift didn't want to be ungrateful, but accepting something like this gave him a deep feeling of sadness.

  “That's okay dude. I've prepared.” he said.

  “Hmm. Lemme see your bag.”

  Ollie grabbed Swift's bag without waiting for an answer and looked inside. He saw the map, some packets of dried beef, and two bottles of water.

  “Oh Bear Grylls, what are you going to do when all of this water runs out? Drink your-”

  “Okay okay wisenheimer! I'll take the money. Jeez.”

  Swift snatched the bag as well as the envelope. He stuffed the envelope into his bag.

  Ollie folded his arms and declared “A winner is me.”

  That day after school Swift set out. He'd knew it'd be tough, but getting away from the city would be the hardest part. Fortunately he had researched which public transit methods would offer the least resistance to an unaccompanied minor with no id. It was after dark when he made it to the city limits and looked back for the first time. There was no way that he would be able to see the orphanage from here, but still his gaze scanned the glowing lights of the city's downtown district “Be strong Ollie. Help is on the way.” he whispered before vanishing into the night.

  By choosing to stick to suburban towns and smaller cities he was able to evade capture. He had been using the public communications terminals in the post offices of these places, but fear of being noticed for standing out in such small areas drove him to a denser city. Ironically, this led to his capture outside of a drugstore by an off-duty police officer who recognized him from a wanted description. He had stopped there briefly to replenish his supplies with the money given to him by Ollie, which also prevented him from having to become the ultimate survivor. Prior to his capture, Swift did send several messages to Zach. None of these received a response, but he was prepared for this seeing as he never visited the same spot twice. His faith was kept alive by two facts: Zach would never ignore him if he knew Swift needed his help, and Swift did not believe that fate would be cruel enough to take his uncle as it did his mother and father.

  -16-

  After his whipping, he returned to his room only to find it in shambles. Model ships were completely smashed up; model ships that he and Ollie had painstakingly built, their pieces strewn all over. The posters and diagrams that had once adorned his milky gray walls now covered the floor in uneven shreds, like morbid carpeting. He moved with urgency to his wardrobe and dropped down to his knees to check the bottom of it. The box with his father's things was still there untouched. He let out a sigh of relief and got back to his feet. This was no doubt the handy work of Butch and his goon squad. Swift planned to go check in with Ollie to get the full story, and then issue out beat downs accordingly. Top shelf beat downs.

  Yet when he got to Ollie's room his temper ran cold and instead of preparing for a final fight he found himself staring into an empty room. Just then a familiar voice spoke from behind him and he turned slowly as if caught in a dream, or in this case a nightmare.

  “You're back!” Frankie exclaimed.

  “Oh it's you... Frankie... Where's Ollie?” Swift asked.

  A look of discomfort spread across Frankie's face “So you haven't heard yet?” He looked down at his hands as if they would tell him what to say next and came to a conclusion, without the help of his hands, he looked up and said “Butch is still pretty mad that you knocked his teeth out, so when you ran away he decided to trash your room. Ollie must have heard us breaking your stuff-”

  “Us?” With an alarmingly cold look, Swift eyes begin to fix on Frankie “You were a part of this?” he asked.

  “Please let me finish!” Frankie cried as his gaze fell back to his hands in search for an answer, or maybe to find his voice. “He had to have heard us, because he came running in and shouted at us to cut it out. Butch told us to get him, but when I went to grab him he socked me hard in the stomach. He surprised me so much, because not only did it hurt a lot but Ollie had never fought back before. He reminded me of you for a second.” He grinned sheepishly at Swift, but Swift maintained that hauntingly chilly stare. Frankie was starting to get scared. This wasn't the wise guy from the cafeteria a few weeks ago. Danger seemed to hide right underneath those icy dark eyes and he began to consider whether or not to finish when Swift finally spoke again.

  “Ollie. Where is he?” he said in a flat voice that betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

  To Frankie the emptiness seemed to convey a warning or perhaps a threat. He was sure that he could feel the anger coming from Swift's eyes even if it wasn't present in his voice. He could feel it watching him.

  Frankie stuttered and his hands began to tremble with fear “But-ch...But-ch...and the guys...n-not me th-ough. They jumped him. At first I thought they were going to j-just rough him up a b-bit like usual...”

  Frankie stopped. He was sweating badly now and shaking all over. After a few seconds of silence Swift spoke again.

  “You need to talk. Now.” Swift's voice was like a slap to the face.

  Frankie took a deep breath, exhaled, and closed his eyes before he continued.

  “They got him down and started to kick and stomp him. They were shouting and cussing so loud that I thought a caregiver might come...no... I had hoped a caregiver would hear it and come stop them. Before I knew it I was shouting at them to stop, trying to pull them off of him, but I was too late.”

  Swift said nothing as he soaked in this tale of ridiculously brutal violence. His face remained as still as stone. If he noticed the tears that had begun to roll
down Frankie's face then he gave no indication that they mattered at all.

  Frankie wiped his face with his forearm and cried “Blood! Blood was coming out of his mouth, ears, nose- everywhere! He wasn't breathing anymore either...or at least it didn't look like it.”

  It was for the best then that Frankie had closed his eyes. The thing that stood before him no longer resembled Leoric Swift. The stone gaze on his face had melted into a fiery mess of wrath and fury. His frozen over eyes had erupted into blazing pyres of hatred that bore down on Frankie with savage intensity with nothing but the cruelest of intentions.

  “I followed them as they carried his body up to the roof and threw it off to make it look like he killed himself.” Frankie balled his fists and shouted “They killed him! They killed him and I couldn't stop them! I'm sorry!”

  Swift no longer saw Frankie, the empty room, or anything for that matter. He stood there with his eyes burning, tears threatening to rush the rims of his eyelids, and thoughts racing through his mind. His heart was rioting in his chest, slamming against the walls that held it as he began to lose his mind. He might have set upon Frankie right then and there in his anger, dashing his skull against the floor. Yet somehow he heard the apology, and even though it did nothing for the immense pain that now clouded his rational thoughts, it did allow him to spare Frankie at least.

  “You're always sorry Frankie.” Swift said, his words husky and thick “That makes you a sorry person.”

  Frankie flinched in anticipation of a face demolishing punch, but it never came. Instead he opened his waterlogged eyes to see Ollie's empty room with Swift gone. He ran into the hallway just in time to see Swift sprinting full speed towards the cafeteria stairwell. Frankie gave chase and got downstairs as Swift kicked open the cafeteria doors.

  -17-

  Swift marched in and tore off his jacket; throwing it to the floor and eliciting gasps from anyone who could see his back. The most recent whipping he had received burst the skin on his back; bright red blood bloomed like floral print on the fabric of his snow white polo.

  Swift roared above the din and clamor of the other orphans having dinnertime conversations “Butch! Fight me!”

  Everyone fell silent. Butch then made an ill informed move by standing up and looking for who had called him out. That is when Swift saw him and knew where he was and who he was. This was the guy who wasn't getting away. The cramped aisles between the tables provided no fast access to Butch. So Swift, in a blood haze, leaped onto the nearest table, sprinted the length and jumped, repeating the process until he was just above Butch. Stunned by the absurdity of this sight, Butch did not immediately react, and Swift dove onto him with a punch to the face. So brutal was the initial strike that Butch was rendered unconscious immediately. His goons were quicker than him however and grabbed Swift, but not before another heavy punch shattered Butch's eye socket. Again it was a Marcus and George on each arm, and again it did not go as planned for them. The surrounding children had moved to give them space, cheering and going crazy with excitement over the violence they were seeing. Swift leaned back to swing his arms forward with a tremendous force, causing Marcus and George to bump heads. Punches were thrown before they could even recover from this, and as a result Marcus received a broken jaw. George took two rib crushing body blows and wished he had just finished his banana pudding instead of fighting. Both hit the floor and stayed there from fear of future thrashing.

  Swift shouted at the three incapacitated bullies “Get up! Get on your feet you cowards! You want to gang up on people? Gang up on me if you can! I really wish you'd try to throw me from the roof!”

  Suddenly his back exploded with renewed pain and he staggered forward onto one knee. He became aware of the boos and jeers coming from the other kids. Swift turned his head to see a caregiver standing triumphantly over him. There was a paddle wet with Swift's blood in his hand. Food and dinnerware began to rain down upon the caregiver from the angry audience.

  He turned and raised his paddle, booming at them to “Cut it out before I beat the life out of all of ya!”

  Fed up with his own beatings, Swift rose and tackled the caregiver from behind. The paddle flew from his hand and to the floor, where several small and mischievous feet kicked it far from the fray.

  “You little punk!” The caregiver bellowed and tried to hit Swift with his elbow.

  Swift pushed back off of him to dodge this strike and put his hands up. His head was swimming from the pain he felt in his back. He could hear his heartbeat rumbling in his ears like a thunderstorm. There would be no fight between the two however. The other caregivers on duty had arrived and grabbed hold of Swift. Despite the adrenaline coursing throughout his body he had begun to feel very weak and tired. Even so he managed to break free only to be taken down right away by a sedative.

  -18-

  The next day Swift sat in the visiting room. Hazy gray light, the kind that was the signature of a foggy morning, shined down in his eyes from a window high upon the wall. He was still mildly drugged when Bob Hookanos strode in. Therefore when he did not respond to the greeting Bob had given him, it was taken as a sign of insolence.

  “Not in the mood to talk today either I see.” Bob said curtly as he sat down across from Swift.

  “Hullo.” Swift said in a funny voice that he didn't recognize as his own. Better late than never he thought and laughed. This too sounded funny to him and a little creepy as well.

  Bob gave him a disdainful look and continued “I've heard that you've assaulted some of your peers recently.”

  “Yup.” Swift said, only he didn't because it wasn't really his voice anyway.

  “Care to tell me why?” Bob asked without looking up from his clipboard.

  Swift stared at the wall behind Bob and did not answer straightaway. He found it really hard to think for some reason. Really hard to care actually. Why did he get in that fight anyway he wondered. Then it hit him like a steel freight train, and his mind came back to the world of the living if only for a little bit.

  “They killed Ollie. He was my best friend.” he answered in a small, sad voice. He recognized it as his own this time, and he was relieved to hear it.

  Bob looked up from his clipboard in shock and declared “That troubled child committed suicide. He couldn't cope with the emotional stress dealt to him from having lost his parents at such an early age.” Bob explained. Truth be told he had no idea why that kid decided to become sidewalk pizza and he didn't care. That wasn't his job.

  “That's a total lie.” Swift said. He was getting angry and didn't like it, but this conversation was waking him up so he ran with it “He was beaten to death by Butch and his lackeys. Then they dumped his body off of the roof to cover it up!” He was coming back pretty rapidly now “Ask Frankie!” he shouted.

  “Calm down this instant!” Bob raised his voice and adjusted his necktie “We spoke with that child, and he has been punished for his lies.”

  That did it.

  Swift stood up in a fit of rage and shouted “Horseshit! This is horseshit!”

  Bob began to rapidly press the button on the underside of the table.

  Swift went on shouting “You people are monsters! They 'punished' him huh? Did they whip him like they whipped me?”

  Several caretakers barged in and apprehended Swift.

  “You had a part in this! You looked the other way while he was bullied and beaten everyday!”

  “Shut him up!” Bob screamed at the caregivers. One took a syringe full of clear liquid from the breast pocket of his shirt.

  “You...” Swift couldn't finish his sentence before the sedative whisked him off once more to a drug induced dreamland.

  Once he had been removed from the room the head caregiver, Miranda Sweetwater, entered and spoke with Bob.

  “What a nuisance.” she said with disgust regarding the young orphan who had just been carried out and asked “What do you think we should do with him?”

  “I don't think we shoul
d transfer him.” Bob said while adjusting his necktie “We can still help the child.” He then pretended to check the notes he never actually took and said “For now we should keep him sedated indefinitely.”

  “Thank you doctor.” Miss Sweetwater said, they shook hands.

  When Bob got into the hallway he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. He could not afford to let this one get transferred. That kid's loud mouth could cost him his job, and he couldn't have that. Leoric Swift could stay a vegetable for the rest of his life for all Bob cared.

  -19-

  Zach strolled into Bird's Nest Orphanage and walked directly to the building map hanging on the lobby wall. So far Swift's messages had been highly accurate with descriptions and directions, but a little visual aid never hurt anyone. When he had located the A wing boy's ward he headed towards the hallway entrance.

  “Excuse me sir!” The receptionist at the front desk called out, as a sharp looking man dressed in a three piece suit nearly walked by her.

  “Oh?” replied the man who in his early thirties, still had a bright and youthful way about him that suggested he was far younger “My name is Zachery Method. I am here to pick up my nephew Leoric Swift.”

  “That boy has no family.” The receptionist, a young female, replied curtly.

  “Ah! So sorry for the confusion. I didn't ask you whether or not he has any family. I mean, how would you know? No, no, that would be rude of me to ask. I actually told you that I am here to pick up my nephew Leo.”

  “Now you listen here-”

  “Oops! Almost forgot.”

  Zachery retrieved an envelope from the inner breast pocket of his coat and laid the contents out for the receptionist to see.

  “This right here is the last will and testament of Ryan and Marceline Swift. As you can see, ipso facto, here, here, and also there that I have been granted full custody of Leoric Swift.”