The Starhawk Chronicles

by Joseph J. Madden

  “Well, so long, old friend,” Jesse said, reaching for the accelerator. K’Tran grabbed his arm before it got there.

  “Wait!” he said, climbing over the side and into the passenger seat. “Let’s take a look at this crew you put together. Least I can do.”

  Jesse grinned and gunned the engines. The resultant backfire caused the skittish bogo to run, paying no heed to the drone’s commands to stop as it dragged along behind still clutching the reins.

  *

  Bonaba Six had no real spaceport to speak of, merely a scorched piece of prairieland with a control tower and a few ramshackle maintenance sheds. The Starhawk sat between two of the sheds, the crew bustling about making minor repairs when Jesse’s groundcar floated up. Hurriedly dropping their tools, they ran to assemble in front of the ship’s boarding ramp, like troops lining up for inspection.

  K’Tran groaned as he watched the group gathering before them. Not that he disliked the look of them, for he knew each of them as well as he knew Jesse. The problem he saw right away was that they were so young. Each one was as young as, or younger, than Jesse was.

  One, in particular, made K’Tran’s heart jump. The pretty, young woman with coffee brown hair and matching eyes smiled and waved as they approached. He turned to Jesse as he was climbing out of the vehicle. “I can’t believe you dragged Lohren into this.”

  “I didn’t drag anyone,” Jesse replied. “And you know Lohren. You tell her no and she just goes out and does something anyway. I figured my energies were better spent fighting someone other than her.”

  K’Tran silently agreed, knowing from long experience the famed Tirannis tenacity, and climbed from the car. Lohren approached and gave him a warm hug and kiss. “It’s good to see you again,” she said.

  The girl’s warmth was infectious, and he returned the smile. “You too. After being around drones and gravars the past few months, the sight of a pretty young thing like you is just what this old man needed.”

  He was equally glad to see Podo and Lohren’s sister, Kym. A pleasant little party seemed to erupt with the reunion, everyone trying to tell a tale all at once. The festive atmosphere was not to last though, as K’Tran heard a familiar mechanical shuffling coming down the ship’s gangplank. With obvious reluctance, he turned to confirm his worst fear.

  The battered, gunmetal drone stood at the foot of the ramp, nodding toward him in one quick, jerking motion. “Hello K’Tran,” the drone offered.

  K’Tran glared at the automaton for a long moment, then turned and looked at Jesse with disgust in his eyes. “I’d have thought that someone would have slagged his metal hide by now.”

  Before Jesse could reply, Bokschh responded in kind. “That is funny. I would have thought the same of you.”

  K’Tran sneered and reached for his sidearm for the second time that day before realizing he still was not wearing it. “Podo,” he said, looking over at the Warwick. “Blast him for me.”

  Podo looked sheepish. He had not expected to be caught in the middle of the years-old argument. For a fraction of a second, he had actually started to reach for his sidearm, but caught himself.

  “You ought to get rid of him,” K’Tran said to Jesse, jerking his head in the drone’s direction, making no attempt to keep his words secret. “That one’s nothing but trouble.”

  “Bokschh is acting as my executive officer and ship’s procurement specialist,” Jesse answered hotly. “If it wasn’t for his know-how, we might never have gotten the ship refitted as quickly or as well as we did. I’m not about to jettison him just because you two have a bad history together.”

  He paused and took a few steps closer, meeting K’Tran’s glare. “Besides, you said you weren’t signing on. You’re just here to see what I put together, remember?”

  K’Tran opened his mouth to reply; just as quickly closed it. He shot Bokschh a scornful look, then turned back to Jesse, a more sober expression on his face. “Right,” he said. “Well, let’s see what else you’ve done here.”

  *

  “That was six years ago,” K’Tran said, his eyes finally losing that far off look. “Thom would have been proud.”

  He finished his drink, then ran his fingers along the menu console and a few seconds later another fruit nectar appeared through the table’s hatch. He raised his glass in silent salute and drank the whole thing down in three quick slugs. “We still were never able to get a reliable lead on Thring. Jesse’s been tracking clues for the last six years, but they always turn out to be dead ends. It’s the one thing that’s kept him going since Lohren died. The boy’s got a lot of ghosts.”

  The ship’s comm buzzed, followed a second later by Podo’s voice. “K’Tran, if you’re not too busy, I could use a hand here on the bridge.”

  K’Tran pressed the button set into the table nearest him. “Be right there.” He looked apologetically at Kayla. “Sorry, but he probably needs help with the long-range sensor array. Damn thing goes offline if you even look at it funny.”

  “Need help?”

  K’Tran smiled, but shook his head. “I really don’t think you could help much. Most of the additions aren’t exactly what you’d call standard. We keep trying to integrate new systems into the mix, but a lot just aren’t compatible with the older systems and we have to make a lot of imaginative modifications to work them in. Unless you were one of those who helped design those modifications, you’d have no idea where to start.”

  Kayla sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Not a whole lot left to do around here, then.” She thought for a moment. “Since I’m not needed with the repairs, is there someplace I could go to work on my fighting form? I could have done a few things better in that fight with Ho’jisk. I made a few mistakes.”

  K’Tran chuckled. “Miss, after the way the rest of us fared against that brute, I’d have to say your performance was a hell of a lot better than ours, mistakes or not.”

  Kayla smiled. “I appreciate that. Still, if I don’t work on it, it will bother the hell out of me.”

  K’Tran nodded his understanding. “We converted the secondary cargo hold into a training room.”

  A few minutes later, after retrieving her gear from where she had left it in the med bay, Kayla made her way down to the cargo hold. As she traversed the corridor, she marveled at the people that she had gotten herself involved with. Never before had she felt such a feeling of family from a group as diverse as this, and the profession they had chosen for themselves just made it all the more incredible. She wondered what other tales they had to tell, and she wondered if she would ever get to hear them all.

  Chapter Twelve

  The sound of crumpling plasteel caused Rahk to pause as he made his way through Malcontent’s corridors. A moment later he heard a distinctly familiar roar and more crashing. The ruckus came from the mess hall. He reached to key the door open when one panel suddenly bulged outward, followed by another roar.

  Forcing the doors open, Rahk found the mess hall in chaos. Chairs and tables were shoved to the sides; light panels were smashed and sparking. In the center of the room, silhouetted in the pale light, were Kahr and Gall.

  Rahk had no way of knowing how long the two had been at it. Both were bloodied and battered, though Kahr looked as though he had taken the worst of the beatings. The odds had obviously changed in his favor in the last few moments. Kahr was digging his claws into either side of Gall’s neck. Gall reached up, trying to release Kahr’s grip, but his strength was gone.

  Increasing the pressure on Gall’s throat, Kahr caught sight of his brother for the first time. He said nothing, favoring Rahk with a bloodthirsty grin. Rahk watched as Gall’s black eyes went wide. There was the slightest hint of a crack as Kahr whipped Gall’s head around nearly one-hundred-eighty degrees. The Chinsharra’s body went limp, but still Kahr did not release him.

  With one hand, Kahr grabbed hold of Gall’s topknot. The other hand he raised high above his head, claws extended. Bringing his hand down
, he lopped Gall’s head off with one swipe. He raised it high in the air in triumph as he licked clean his claws.

  Kahr admired his trophy at arm’s length for a long moment as his adrenaline rush began to subside. He tossed the Chinsharra’s head to Rahk. “It appears you are becoming quite the prophet, Brother,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Guess Forster won’t have to work too hard for this bounty, eh?”

  Kahr laughed full force now at his joke, his laughter echoing down the corridors as he walked out of sight, leaving Rahk alone in the mess hall. He lets his anger control his actions, Rahk thought, watching his brother disappear around a corridor junction. All that rage he keeps stored within him will one day be his undoing.

  He sighed, dropping Gall’s severed head next to his body. He set off in search of Charris, to tell him his brother was dead.

  *

  Jesse blinked the sweat from his eyes, taking a moment to catch his breath. He slung the staff he was practicing with across his forearm and considered the next form he would practice.

  Because he had so little time to himself, moments like this were pure joy for him. He was a firm believer that working up an honest sweat helped to clear the mind.

  There was much on his mind now.

  The problem facing him was not so much the one presented by the Nexus Gang—he already had a clear handle on that situation. The bigger problem, to his way of thinking, was what to do about that damned Karson woman.

  It was true, he thought as he launched into his next series of moves, that Karson was a nuisance. For all he knew, aside from not belonging to any hunters guild, she may not even be licensed to apprehend criminals.

  The fact that she was moving in on a hunt that was supposed to be exclusively theirs did not bother Jesse. He had expected it would happen eventually. Independents always had a way of finding their way onto a hunt, no matter how secretive one was. What bothered him was how quickly Karson had gotten word of the hunt. He knew she must have contacts within the guilds, but he wondered just how deep those contacts were. Could Guildmaster Nord have let information slip out to her? Jesse doubted it, but anything seemed possible.

  What bothered him most was the fact that he found himself admiring the young woman. It was not often that he met someone with such spirit. Bounty hunting was not a profession one took up lightly, and most failed early on. He knew that had it not been for their loyalty to him, and to his father before him, most or probably all of his crew would probably not have taken on such an occupation.

  Karson had handled herself magnificently against Ho’jisk. It took guts for her to come to their aid during that ambush with Dark Blood and the corvette. She could have sat back and waited for the Nexus to finish them off, then gone after the bounties at her leisure. She did not. She did her part to help them out, and took a great loss because of it.

  What was more, he knew his crew admired her. That was his biggest quandary. If they got too attached to her, it would be that much harder to get rid of her.

  The sad fact of the matter―and Jesse loathed to admit it―was that they could use all the help they could get. The last time they had gone up against the Nexus had cost them dearly. There was not a member among them who did not sustain some injury. K’Tran and Morogo ended up needing several days’ worth of medical attention, so grievous were their wounds. And then there was Lohren. . .

  That thought left him only one choice. As soon as he finished his workout, he would set his plan in motion

  Settling on that course, Jesse threw himself even deeper into his workout. He was therefore even more startled when a voice suddenly sounded from behind him.

  Kayla reached the cargo hold, and as the doors slid open, was surprised to find Forster already there. His back was to her and he was deep into some kind of training routine of his own, practicing thrusts and jabs and defensive blocks with a wooden staff nearly as long as he was tall. He was barefoot, and he moved with ease along the training mat on the floor. She could tell he had been at it for some time, as his tunic was soaked through with sweat around the neck and arms and down his spine.

  For a moment, she considered slipping out quietly. For a moment.

  “You practicing that for when you try to throw me off your ship?”

  Forster jumped at the sound of her voice and nearly dropped the staff. He turned to look at her, and spied her taser staff in her hand. “Looks like we both had the same idea.”

  “Didn’t mean to disturb you,” she lied. If she had not, she never would have spoken up. She enjoyed seeing his reaction. “I didn’t realize that you were in here. I’ll go.”

  “No, stay,” Forster called as she turned to leave. “There’s plenty of room. Besides, I might enjoy the company. Everyone else is off finishing the repairs, and no one else here is really good with a fighting staff. Maybe we could give each other a few pointers?”

  Kayla felt herself flush slightly. “I’m not really that good . . .”

  “Bull,” he shot back. “You took down Ho’jisk using just that staff. I’ve never seen anyone make a kill like that. We may have had our differences, but I give credit where credit is due.”

  “Thank you,” was all Kayla could think to say. His sudden amiability towards her caught her off guard.

  Forster hefted his staff into a two-handed grip. “So how about a friendly little match? Provided, of course, you don’t power that thing up.”

  Kayla could not help but grin now and tossed him her staff. “You use mine, just to be safe.”

  He accepted and handed over his staff. She ran her fingers lightly up and down the light, polished wood, examining the exotic symbols etched along its length. She recognized the writing, though she could not read it. “Is this an actual Mandasi fighting staff?” His only reply was a nod. “How did you come by it? It’s a crime for anyone but a Mandasi tribesman to possess this. Punishable by death.”

  Forster shrugged. “It was a trophy from a previous hunt. We captured Orisk Bech, ‘The Mandasi Mutilator.’ That was his. The Mandasi government let me keep it after we turned him in. Even had one of their grand masters train me in its use.”

  He gestured around the hold at the various artifacts lining the walls, making the room seem more like a miniature museum than a training room. Exotic weapons, both blades and firearms, hung from one wall. Another wall held a Carrascan combat jetpack. “It’s become something of a hobby of mine, collecting trophies from those we’ve captured. I like to take their weapons, especially if it’s something rare.” He pointed to a wicked looking sword with serrated edges. “Like that Arrackan ceremonial blade.”

  Kayla turned to gaze at one trophy in particular, the huge, tusked skull of a Tely’theron dragon that took up most of one wall.“And that poor devil?”

  A sheepish look crossed his face, but only for a moment. “I don’t usually take skulls, but I made the exception with that one. That was the pet of one of our bounties. We were to pick him up for a minor violation; the most he would have gotten was maybe a year at max. He sicced that on us.” Forster paused, reaching high above his head and stretching lazily. “I’m usually a pretty easygoing guy, but I get very upset when someone tries to have me eaten. Wrecked a good groundcar taking that beastie down.”

  Kayla stared at him, her respect having grown immensely in the last few minutes. He did not seem the spoiled, arrogant, headstrong jerk she had thought him to be. He had gone through hell and back, losing his father, his lover. She thought now she was beginning to understand him.

  Forster hefted the staff to a two-handed ready position. “Shall we?”

  She grinned, mirroring his stance. “Ready.”

  They began a slow circle of one another, each one feinting occasionally, testing the other’s reflexes. Kayla allowed herself to flinch at a few of his jabs, noting the almost unreadable twitch of his lips as he fought back a smile. He thinks he can take me.

  Being careful not to telegraph, she swung upward with the lower part of her staff, catching his right han
d across the knuckles, intentionally keeping the blow light. Forster let go, more in surprise than pain. “You’re quick.”

  The compliment failed to distract her. Forster launched a series of combination over and underhand swings with such speed that would have been flattened a lesser opponent. As it was she deflected each blow, but it was an effort.

  Then Forster made his first mistake. Emboldened by his success, he made another overhand swing, but extended too far and he nearly toppled forward. Kayla sidestepped nimbly and caught him on his rear end with a whack of her staff. Forster regained his balance. Imitating her killing stroke against Ho’jisk, he thrust the staff behind him without turning. She blocked the thrust by swinging upwards. Instead of being thrown off balance again, Forster pivoted with the motion, bringing his weapon around and down on his other side, this time catching her on the knuckles.

  It was a little harder blow than she had dealt him, and she paused to shake her hand to kill some of the pain. Forster grinned. “We’re even.”

  She returned the grin. “Not for long!”

  They continued for the next ten minutes, thrusting, parrying, and swinging. Each one scoring a hit, then having it returned in kind. Both were sweating and breathing heavily.

  Kayla made a wild swing for Forster’s head, which he easily ducked under, and brought his staff up behind her knee. With her legs knocked out from under her, she hit the mat hard, the breath knocked from her lungs in an explosive gasp.

  Chest heaving from his exertions, Forster stood over her. Staff slung across one arm, he leaned down and offered her a hand. “My compliments to a worthy opponent.”

  Kayla sucked in a deep breath, reaching up to take his hand. Before he could pull her up, she shot him a predatory grin. “Who said it’s over?”

  Forster realized his mistake a half-second too late. In that instant, Kayla brought both feet up into his midsection and, still holding his hand, leaned backwards with all her weight. Forster flew over her head first, landing on his back with a thud that shook the deck. Kayla was back on her feet before he hit, standing over him as he had only seconds earlier, holding one end of her staff right at his throat. “Now it’s over.”