Friday, June 9, 2023

Will the REAL Jesse Forster Please Stand Up?- A Starhawk Tale

The ocean below was a chaotic blanket of whitecaps, the sky above the color of slate. A fitting reflection for my mood at the moment, Boruus Noth thought, staring out at the angry waters below the precipice upon which his temporary base sat. The abandoned castle which was, supposedly, haunted, cursed–whatever legend the locals were christening it at the time–had always given Noth a bad feeling, and Volkov were not known to be a particularly superstitious race. And on this particular day, Noth had a very bad feeling.

That feeling did not improve as one of his men approached him from behind. “Lord Noth? We’ve caught an interloper snooping around outside the southern entrance. Says they’ll only talk to you. No one else.”

Noth turned to the guard, glaring impatiently at having been disturbed while overseeing the loading of dozens of crates of Kryllian stim-vapor cubes. He had a schedule to keep, and his investors did not take lightly at having their supply lines run dry for even a few hours. The stim-cube trade was flourishing in the narcotics industry. Noth had gotten in on the ground floor, rising quickly from lowly street hustler of Del Roona, up through the ranks until he was able to form his own small, but quickly growing cartel of his own. He neither wanted, nor cared for, distractions.

Still, despite his mood, the Volkov was feeling accommodating, and softened his stare at the guard, insofar as his craggy, stone-faced countenance could soften. “What does he want?” he grumbled.

She, Sir,” the guard corrected with a nervous tremor in his voice. When Noth’s only reaction was the raising of an eyebrow in curiosity, the guard relaxed. Slightly. “As I said, she refuses to speak except to you.”

Noth sighed. Were he not intrigued, he would simply ignore the matter, After all, the guards did have the intruder in custody. He could simply snap his fingers and have them execute her on the spot.

But Boruus Noth was feeling accommodating today.

“Bring her in,” he said, dismissing the guard and turning back to his data screens, checking and re-checking his shipment schedules.

Moments later, the guard returned, with another of his compatriots flanking the intruder. Noth was amused as she approached. She was of average height, for what he assumed was a human, her identity kept hidden beneath a battered helmet of a Harkonian ground-force trooper of pre-war vintage. The helmet in itself intrigued him. Perhaps when all was said and done, he would keep it for his collection. He was known for his fondness for antiques.

Noth looked to the first guard. “She is unarmed, I assume?”

The guard held out an equally battered KX-29 pulse blaster, older even than the helmet. “This was all she had on her. We checked her over thoroughly,” he said with a grin. The other guard chuckled softly but added no more.

Savages, Noth thought. Despite the unseemly way he made his money, he would not invite the mistreatment of a prisoner who did not deserve it, especially since he wasn’t even sure if the new arrival would remain a prisoner. He would have an in-depth discussion with this particular pair of guards at a later time.

He stepped closer, again admiring the design of the decades-old helmet. “Kindly remove your disguise, so that I may speak to you face-to-face.”

The newcomer reached up, using slow, steady movements so as not to provoke the guards. What was revealed intrigued Noth even more than the antiques she carried. Long, russet-brown hair, dark eyes which fixed him with a dagger-like gaze, and a face with a soft, slightly pink complexion and high cheekbones. Boruus Noth knew beauty when he saw it, even in a human female, and this one was strikingly beautiful.

He took another half-step closer, studying her. She was young for a human, and if he was guessing correctly, about halfway into her third decade of life. Noth smiled, as charmingly as a Volkov could. “You do know you could be in quite a bit of trouble, do you not?”

The newcomer remained silent, keeping those coffee-brown eyes fixed on him.

“Come now,” Noth said. “My guards said you would speak only with me. Now is your opportunity. What’s your name, child?”

She spoke in a slow, measured voice, that almost sounded like a threat when she replied, “Jesse Forster.”

Noth was taken aback by the response and saw the two guards share a look as well. The name Jesse Forster was well known in his circles. A bounty hunter, and a good one by all reports, but this could not be the one that he had heard about. “Impossible,” he said.

“Why?” she spat, more challenge than question.

“Because while the name is known to me, and I am somewhat familiar with the reputation that goes along with it, I can state unequivocally that you are not Jesse Forster.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because Jesse Forster is a male.”

“So, what are you, some kind of sexist?”

Again, Noth was stymied. An accusation of that sort was the last thing he was expecting. It took a moment for him to regain his voice. “Jesse is a male human name.”

“Not when it’s short for Jessica, you misogynist pig!”

This was growing tedious. Noth had much more important work to do than banter back and forth with this little spitfire. There was a schedule to keep and repercussions if not kept.

One of the guards picked up on his mood. “What do you want us to do with her, Sir?”

“Put her in a holding cell for now. Untouched,” Both men’s faces dropped in disappointment. “I will decide after we get this shipment out. Until then, make sure she’s…”

He was interrupted by the ping of his comm-band. He switched it on. “Lord Noth? This is Jerrus guarding the North gate, Sir. We’ve caught an intruder. He-he won’t give us any identification. Says he’ll speak only to–um–only to you…Sir.”

Noth blinked with surprise, sharing the look with the two guards. He looked to the girl, who was still regarding him with the utmost contempt. “Friend of yours?”

Her reply was more silence, and that scathing glare.

Noth sighed, rubbing the tip of one long, pointed ear to try and ward off the headache that was forming at the base of his skull. It was going to be one of those days. He felt the eyes of his crew around him watching for his response. Ordinarily, he would be breaking things in a blind rage by now, but he just didn’t feel up to it, despite his impatience at the distraction. Must be getting soft. Have to see to that. He raised his comm-band again. “You did say he?”

“Correct, Sir,” A pause. “At least, I think he…it…” Another nervous pause. “Definitely a he, Sir. I think.”

“Chauvinist troglodyte,” the woman said, under her breath, but still loud enough to be heard. Noth ignored the comment.

“Bring whoever it is here to me, and make it quick! I won’t tolerate any more interruptions!”

“Y-yes, Sir!”

Noth made a mental note to review his staffing policies with his second-in-command later on. A nervous nannyte like Jerrus should not be in an important position such as security. Maybe give him a nice loading assistant job. Later.

The other two guards, he noted, made no attempt to take the woman to her cell, all too obviously waiting to see who this latest person of interest was.

A few moments later, Jerrus and his companion lead the new intruder into the control office. Striding between the two of them, chest puffed out in an exaggerated show of bluster, was a warwick. Covered in white fur mottled with brown and black spots, and standing little more than half of Noth’s height, the warwick nevertheless projected haughty confidence that seemed to fill the room. He met Noth’s gaze unflinchingly.

“Not what I expected,” Noth said, “And who might you be?”

“Jesse Forster,” the newcomer replied proudly. He looked to his right where the young woman still stood and nodded in her direction. “Jesse,” he said in acknowledgment.

She returned the nod. “Jesse,” she replied.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Noth said aloud with a shake of his head. “You are not Jesse Forster.”

“You got proof of that?”

Noth regarded this new Jesse Forster with annoyance. He had better things to do than play a game of who the hell are you? “ I know that Jesse Forster is not female,” He glanced at the girl, who shot daggers at him with her eyes. “And I also know that he is most decidedly human.

The warwick struggled against the guards still holding him, fixing Noth with a gaze that would have frozen water. “Wow! Racist much?”

Someone in the back snickered. Noth, his patience growing razor-thin, whirled to see who the culprit was but was too late. Everyone was working hard at looking like they were hard at work. “Enough of this,” he growled. “Put them in a holding cell, together, since they already seem to be acquainted. We will deal with them after all the shipments have been…”

The ping of his comm-band cut his words short. Everyone in the room went dead silent at the disturbance, waiting for Noth’s reaction. He locked eyes on the nearest guard, who visibly shuddered under his gaze. Without looking, he activated the comm. “Noth,” he said, keeping his voice under control.

Lord Noth? This is Shenpai at the eastern perimeter gate.

“Who?”

Shenpai, Sir. I’m new here. Just started last week.

Noth looked to his other guards and was not surprised to receive a few shrugs in return. Employee turnover had been a bitch lately. He sighed. “Yes, Shenpai? What is it?”

We’ve apprehended an intruder here, Sir, and…

“Let me guess. He refuses to speak with anyone but me, correct?”

There was a moment’s hesitation. “Actually, Sir, he’s not speaking at all. I’m not entirely sure that he can…Sir.

The headache Noth was hoping to ward off was coming on full force now. Someone was going to lose a limb today, at least. The others had picked up on his vibes and were looking like they wished they had somewhere else to be. Jerrus looked like he was trying to keep his bowels from releasing. “Bring the intruder here to me, Shenpao.”

Shenpai, Sir,” the voice on the other end corrected. “And while I have you here Sir, I really wanted to thank you for this opportunity to work for you. I truly appreciate…

“Shenpai?”

Sir?

“Focus. Prisoner. Here. Now.”

Yessir. On the way.

Noth cut the link. “That holding cell is going to get pretty crowded,” he grumbled. “And not just with intruders.”

Noth’s men spent the next few moments trying very hard not to do anything that might attract their employer’s attention, and subsequently, his ire. Noth spent those moments avoiding the scathing looks the two Forster imposters were sending his way. It was almost a relief when Shenpai and another guard brought the newcomer before him. Again, it was not Forster.

“Wrong,” Noth declared the moment the prisoner came within his sight. “Too tall. Wrong color. Wrong species.”

He looked up as the intruder towered a good quarter-meter over him, all grey-green scales and a piggish snout filled with dagger-like teeth that were revealed in a macabrely congenial grin. “I suppose you’re going to claim to be Jesse Forster as well?”

A bigger grin, more bared teeth, but not a word spoken.

“It’s a Vor’na’cik, Sir,” the second guard, an older man with snow-white hair pulled back in a ponytail decreed. “They’re not allowed to speak with others not of their kind.”

Noth gave him a long, hard look, though not for the correction. The man looked familiar, but Noth could not remember having seen this man on security detail before, but then again—turnover.

The Vor’na’cik looked over to the Warwick and inclined its head. The warwick nodded back. “Jesse.”

The woman nodded as well, echoing the warwick. “Jesse.”

Noth turned to them. “So you two acknowledge that this being will also claim to be Jesse Forster?”

The warwick crossed his arms over his chest “I refuse to say any more without proper legal representation.”

The woman was more direct. “Stuff it!”

Noth sighed, looking at the white-haired guard, “I suppose you are going to claim to be Jesse Forster as well?”

The man shook his head emphatically. “Oh no. Not me,” he replied, then grinned and pointed to the guard standing quietly on the other side of the Vor’na’cik. The guard who had done his best to make himself as unobtrusive as possible so as not to be noticed. The guard who now had a sidearm pointed in Noth’s direction. “Him!”

The guard nodded at Noth, smiling at him from behind bright blue eyes. “Hey! How ya doin’?” Then to the Vor’na’cik, “Morogo?”

It was only at this point that Noth realized that the hulk standing before him merely had his hands crossed before him at the wrist, and was not actually restrained in any way. The Vor’na’cik moved quickly, quicker than a being its size had any right to, grabbing the two guards watching over the woman, and hurling them at the ones guarding the Warwick. Weapons appeared in prisoners’ hands, snatched from security personnel holsters. Blue flashes of stun beams crisscrossed the room, and Noth watched as his people dropped in unconscious heaps on the floor, or raised hands in surrender. In less than a minute, it was all over.

Noth looked to the blue-eyed intruder. “Jesse Forster, I presume? The real Jesse Forster?”

“In the flesh,” he replied with a grin. “Though you can still call me Shenpai if you prefer. Or Shenpao. Don’t much care which.”

“Do you really expect to get away with this?”

“Seems to me, we already did,” Forster replied, slipping one of the extra guards’ pistols into his belt as his companions went about securing those of Noth’s people in the room that were still conscious. He pointed to the stunned guards strewn about in piles across the floor  “You really ought to think about maybe paying your people more. You might get a better class of employee. But then again, you won’t be needing any for the foreseeable future at least. Not where you’re going.”

The Vor’na’cik stepped up next to Forster, giving his captain one of those razor-toothed grins, then met Noth’s gaze. It inclined its eyes quickly toward Noth’s hands before resuming eye contact as though saying you know the drill. Sighing, Noth shoved his hands in front of him, wrists together, as Morogo slapped a set of manacles around them. The Vor’na’cik then favored him with the same toothy smile. The implication was clear. Thank you for your cooperation.

The dark-haired woman came up to Forster, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips that lasted far longer than Noth thought appropriate. When finally, thankfully, she disengaged, she looked adoringly into Forster’s eyes. “Thank you for coming to the rescue, my lover.”

“Always my pleasure,” Forster responded, giving the girl another quick smooch. Noth’s stomach twisted in revulsion. If I had a gag reflex, my stomach contents would be all over the floor by now.

“We’ve got the big fish,” the Warwick said as he finished securing another prisoner. “What do we do with all the guppies?”

“Contact the local authorities. Let them deal with the cleanup,” Forster said. “And call Bokschh and tell him to bring the ship in. I want to collect on our friend here and be on our way. Take a little time off.”

“The ‘hawk’s already on its way,” the white-haired guard imposter noted, gesturing out the window at the dark shape approaching low over the raging ocean and growing larger as it closed in. It angled up and out of sight, but the roar of its engines announced its presence somewhere above.

After a moment, another female human came bounding down the stone steps leading from the rooftop. Dressed in stained coveralls, with flame-red hair tied back in a loose ponytail, even Noth, who thought most humans all looked alike, could tell that the newcomer was related to the woman currently draped over Forster’s shoulder. “I suppose this one’s named Jesse too,” Noth quipped, a bit louder than he intended judging by the way the redhead’s head snapped in his direction as she approached. The heated look she fired in his direction confirmed for him the familial connection between the two females.

“Looks like your crazy plan worked out,” she said.

“Of course it worked,” Forster replied, sounding cocky. Or was it offended? Human nuances were so difficult to detect. “My plans always work.”

The redhead snorted. “Except for the hunt for Neru.”

“Or Tros’kenai’turoom,” added the brunette.

“Or Corriché,” the warwick and White Hair said in unison.

Noth felt a short but surprising pang of pity for Forster at that moment. At least my people show me fealty. The thought made him chuckle.

Forster shot him a look. “Want to share what’s so funny?”

Noth grinned. “I was just thinking perhaps we should both terminate our respective workforces and go into business together.”

“Don’t,” he said, stabbing a finger in his direction, before pausing and looking quizzically at his crew. After another few seconds, he finished, “Make me even consider that.”

And now, despite all that had transpired in the last few minutes, Boruus Noth threw his head back and laughed heartily, the sound echoing along the stone of the chamber walls. He was laughing still even as they lead him away up the stairs to the ship waiting on the roof above. 


Copyright 2023 by Joseph J. Madden

The adventures of the real Jesse Forster and the crew of the Starhawk continue. To read more, please check out The Starhawk Chronicles and The Starhawk Chronicles: Rest and Wreck-reation, available in paperback, e-book or audiobook.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0841YCBJN




Monday, March 6, 2023

In the Name of the Father- A Starhawk Tale

The air in the tunnel was a suffocating mix of starship fuel, damp earth, and rot.

To K’Tran Pasker, it smelled of death.

“I don’t like this, Thom,” he said, his whisper seeming as loud as a shout in the cramped confines. As he spoke, his breath misted in the cool, dank air. “This just feels wrong.”

“Every time we go into a place like this, it feels wrong to you,” Thom Forster replied. Even though he stood only a few steps away, all K’Tran saw was a dark silhouette. “I’m starting to think you’re paranoid.”

K’Tran could hear the grin in his partner’s voice, and it irked him. “And one of these days I’m gonna be right. You know I was against us taking this contract in the first place. This guy Thring gives me the creeps.”

“Thring is a creep,” Thom retorted, the previous humor in his voice gone, replaced with uncharacteristic venom. “Sonofabitch killed ten people when he hijacked that shuttle. Four of them were kids.”

Shontaia Thring was the most brutal pirate the galaxy had seen in years, and because of that brutality, many were afraid to post bounties on him for fear of retaliation. It had taken this last, extreme act of violence against innocents to spur the Galactic Confederation into taking action.

“I’m not saying this guy doesn’t deserve to be taken down. Not at all,” K’Tran replied. He jumped as some critter further in the darkness ahead gave off a squeal. He was thankful that the darkness concealed the flush of embarrassment he felt rising in his face. “Believe me, I’d be thrilled to send this bastard on a one-way ticket straight to the gates of Hell. I just wish this was more on our terms.”

“We make our own terms. It’s why we do this,” Thom replied. He hefted his rifle and continued down the tunnel, ending the conversation. Shrugging off the feeling of dread, K’Tran followed, wondering how many other hunters had said that before. None who had gone after the pirate Shontaia Thring before had returned alive.

Knowing that using a pad reader to follow tunnel schematics could be picked up by an energy scan, they had been forced to commit the route to memory. The tunnel, a natural formation from a lava tube, now converted to a ventilation shaft, ran for nearly two kilometers through the base of the long-dormant volcano, the caldera of which Thring had converted to a base. Now K’Tran was beginning to wonder if they had made a wrong turn, or if the plans were right to begin with. The path continued for so long with no sign of an end that even Thom was beginning to fidget. Rounding a curve, a faint light from further down made their navigation a little easier, and the distant hum of starship engines in standby mode could now be heard.

Thom paused, looking back over his shoulder, and gave K’Tran a reaffirming nod. After years on the hunt together, and several more before that serving the Confederation in the war against the Harkonian Empire, the non-verbal signal was all the communication they needed. K’Tran gave his weapons a final look-over. Once the fun started, there would be no time to double-check. Assured that everything he needed was ready, he gave Thom the return signal, and they continued on.

The end of the tunnel drew near, and they could make out activity in the hangar beyond. It was too busy for them to attempt an entry now. They would have to wait until a shift change before heading inside the complex.

Thom halted abruptly, holding up a clenched fist. K’Tran paused in mid-stride. “What?” he dared whisper.

“I think I just stepped on a pressure switch,” Thom hissed. K’Tran held his breath, waiting for alarms, lasers, anything to confirm Thom’s suspicions, but only silence filled the next few seconds. After a full minute of waiting, with no seeming consequence, they began to relax. Thom took another step forward…

And jumped back just before being cut in half as a force field materialized across the tunnel in front of him.

“We’re jigged,” Thom cursed, turning as he spoke. “Run!”

K’Tran turned, getting a whole five paces before another force field sprang into existence on the opposite end of the tunnel.

No longer worried about detection, Thom activated the floodlamp mounted on the barrel of his rifle, searching for another avenue of escape, but the tunnel walls were solid rock. Embedded every half-meter in the rock, red flashing diodes winked to life. “Concussion charges,” Thom said.

The last thing K’Tran remembered was feeling his knees go out from under him and he hit the ground. He heard the blast and felt something heavy fall on top of him, then all was black and silent.

***

How long K’Tran lay consciousness, he could not tell. The tunnel was still as black as it had been before the blast. His entire body ached and he found it hard to move his legs.  At first, he feared rubble from the tunnel walls or ceiling had collapsed upon him or, worse, paralysis. When he pushed against the weight, he found it too soft for rock. An even worse realization came over him.

It was Thom, lying atop him.

It was coming back to him. Just before the charges had gone off, Thom had knocked him to the ground, shielding him from the worst of the blast with his body. The thought that his friend had sacrificed himself made him ill, and he struggled to sit up, rolling Thom as gently as possible onto his back. K’Tran checked his friend for any sign of life. 

No pulse, no respiration, and the body cold to the touch. To look for any other sign would be a waste of his time. His friend was gone.

Alone in the darkness, K’Tran wept over the body of his longtime friend, uncaring if Thring or any of his goons came looking for them. The fact that they had lain in the tunnel for so long, undisturbed told K’Tran that Thring was overconfident that his explosives had done their job, or that he thought them so small a threat as to be not worth the effort.

Uncountable minutes passed before he found the strength to get to his feet. The force fields had kept the blast contained, and the tunnel to either side was free from any debris. Hefting his rifle, he risked venturing in the direction of the hangar once again.

There was no longer any need for stealth. Arriving at the mouth of the tunnel, K’Tran found it deserted. Any ships berthed within had since launched, and the entire area was devoid of movement. Thring and his lackeys must have been in the last stages of evacuating this particular base before he and Thom had even arrived. Another hour or two later, and they might have missed them entirely.

And Thom might still be alive.

No longer having to worry about detection, he powered up his comm-band and signaled the ship. The voice of the ship’s EXC-series procurement drone came back at him almost immediately, echoing loudly through the cavernous, empty hangar bay. “Bokschh here.”

“It’s K’Tran,” he replied, then chided himself for saying it. The drone would know who it was. “You can bring the ship in. No need for subtlety.”

A short pause on the other end, then “I understand. I take it the mission was not a success?

That’s an understatement. “The mission was a complete and total failure,” K’Tran sighed. “Thom’s dead.”

There was no emotion, no surprise or anger, or sadness in the drone’s voice when it replied, and for the first time K’Tran could remember, he envied the drone for that. “Understood. Arrival in ten minutes.

K’Tran closed down the channel, then set about looking for something with which to build a makeshift travois.

 Then he returned to that black, foul tube to retrieve the body of his friend.

***

The sun setting over the distant horizon gave the illusion that the rustling prairie grass was a sea of flame. Thom’s funeral procession was meandering away from the graveside as farm droids returned the freshly dug earth back into the two-meter square hole they had excavated only that morning.

K’Tran walked in silence, despite being surrounded by colleagues he had known for years. Fellow hunters, or some of those he and Thom had served with during the war, had acted as an honor guard, escorting Thom’s body on its final journey.

Thom’s family walked a few paces ahead. Alyssa, the youngest, walked hand-in-paw with Podo, the young warwick that Thom and his wife had taken in as a toddler years back. Beside them, Thom’s wife Caitlin walked solemnly with her arm around their oldest son Jesse. The young man had been the very definition of the word stoic since hearing of his father’s death. As they approached the house, and the tent set up outside to accommodate the guests for the funeral reception, the teen broke away from his mother and made a tentative approach to Guild Mistress Beaarazaan. The nearly two-meter-tall Delphian put a hand on the boy's shoulder at his approach, looking down at him affectionately through wide, purple eyes. Jesse engaged the Guild leader animatedly, though K’Tran could not make out what was being said. As the decidedly one-sided conversation became more intense, the Guild Mistress kept her calm demeanor through it all.

“He’s asking her for any information she might have on Thring’s whereabouts,” Caitlin said, quietly appearing at K’Tran’s side. “He wants to go after him himself. It’s all he’s talked about since we got the news. It’s starting to scare his siblings, and me.”

K’Tran put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. She melted into the embrace, so much so that K’Tran was almost all that was keeping her on her feet. “I’ll talk to him. He’s got to realize that there isn’t a being in the galaxy that would let him go after Thring, especially at his age.”

“The truly scary thing is, I know if he did go off looking, Podo would follow him, no questions asked.”

The conversation between Jesse and Beaarazaan looked to be coming to an end. Jesse’s face showed the storm of emotions he was fighting back as the guild mistress shook her head gently and put her hand on his shoulder again before moving off toward the tent. Jesse’s face was a mask of pure anger now as he turned and stomped off around the side of the house and out of sight.

“Looks like there’s no better time for that talk,” K’Tran said, tracking the boy’s path. He gave Caitlin a reassuring smile. “I’ve got this. You see to your guests.”

Caitlin hugged her friend, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking away. K’Tran watched her go for a moment before turning in the direction Jesse had gone. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, knowing this would be one of the most difficult conversations he had ever had. There had been no communication between him and Thom’s oldest since he had arrived on Kassandra Two days earlier. K’Tran had no way of knowing just how the youth would react.

Jesse was where K’Tran had expected to find him, down by the pond at the bottom of a slope several meters away from the backside of the house. Most of the shoreline was overgrown with cattails and an indigenous form of flora called Green-eyed Lily. Jesse stood in a cleared section of shore, angrily skipping stones across the surface.

K’Tran took another breath before speaking. “Hey, kid.”

Jesse turned so suddenly, a small stone held in his hand, and for a moment, K’Tran was afraid the boy would lob it in his direction. After recognition set in, the boy’s eyes dropped, and he turned back to the pond. “Hey,” he responded quietly, hauling back and flinging the stone out across the water. The projectile struck the surface and skipped a half-dozen times before sinking about three-quarters of the way to the opposite shore.

Deducing that it was safe to approach, K’Tran walked slowly over, coming parallel to the boy, but still keeping a respectful distance. “Look, Jesse,” he started. “I know I should have talked to you earlier, but I thought maybe you needed the time to…”

“I’m not mad at you,” Jesse interrupted, without looking away from the pond. He skipped another stone. “I don’t blame you. You were both taking the risk. Both of you could have been killed. And I’m not mad that Dad did what he did to save you. You would have done the same.”

He paused, picking up yet another rock and hurling it as hard as he could. The effort caused the projectile to arch wildly and plummet into the water. They stood in silence, watching the ripples spread from the epicenter as the sounds of tree frogs and other nocturnal critters began filling the silence between them.

“I want Thring,” Jesse finally said into the growing darkness. “I want to look into his eyes and let him know who I am before I kill him.”

“Jesse…” K’Tran began, but no other words would come to him. He understood all too well the feelings that were roiling through the boy’s mind. 

“I talked to Baeaarazann. I told her I needed to know anything the guild has on Thring,” Jesse said. “She politely refused.”

“Are you surprised? You’re barely sixteen. You’re not a hunter, and even if you were, she wouldn’t put you on a hunt like this because you’re too deep into it. Conflict of interest.”

“Who the hell wouldn’t have a conflict of interest in something like this? Thring and his people have killed, what? Dozens? Maybe hundreds over the years?  And these scum just walk away clean every time?”

“Jesse, he’s not getting away clean,” K’Tran said. “But with dealings like this, there are…nuances. You’ve got to let these things take their course. Thring will be brought to justice.”

Jesse sighed, bending to grab yet another rock. He contemplated it briefly before letting it fall back to the ground again in frustration. “Justice is a decidedly fluid term, doncha think?” he said, the barest hint of a wry smile finally creasing his lips. “I mean, what’s just to one man may be totally unjust to another.”

“And what would be just to you?”

“I want to kill Thring. Twice.”

“Twice?”

Jesse nodded. “I want to kill Thring, then make a deal with the devil to bring him back to life, so I can kill him again.”

K’Tran was not quite sure how to respond to that statement. The idea of it was so absurd as to elicit laughter, but the boy had proven himself so damned resourceful over the years that K’Tran could almost believe he could somehow pull it off. “That’s a tall order, Jess.”

“You’re gonna help me, right?” the boy asked, looking up at his old friend imploringly. “You’ll help me find Thring? The two of us, plus Bokschh…we can handle the ‘hawk. We’ll find Thring, and…”

K’Tran held up a hand to keep the boy from going any further. “I’m done, Jess. I’m out. Retiring. I told your mom the other night. Without your dad, this job just wouldn’t be any fun.”

“That’s why we would be doing it! For Dad! He would want his murder avenged.”

K’Tran just shook his head. He saw where the boy was coming from but did not know if he could ever accurately explain it. “Jesse, Thom was never the vengeful type and you know it. And what happened wasn’t murder. It was an occupational hazard. We knew the risks when we got into this business.  It wasn’t personal, though it might seem like it. Thring knew someone was coming for him, but not who. If Thring wanted to make it personal, he would have made it more fun for himself.”

Even as he spoke, he knew his words were failing to make a dent in the boy’s armor. He knew the look too well. Both Thom and Caitlin affected the same look when their minds were made up. The jaw was set. The cool blue eyes looked to grow downright icy. K’Tran would have a better chance of getting a reaction by standing atop the Starhawk’s hull and telling it to fly on its own.

“Your dad wanted more for you kids,” he said finally. “The last thing he would want is for you to throw your lives away chasing down a ghost, which is what Thring is. He pops up for a while, does some damage, then disappears for years at a time. No one knows where or when he’ll make another appearance, and my instincts tell me that after this, he’s gone to ground for a while.”

“So it’s over,” Jesse said, finally meeting K’Tran’s gaze. His eyes were moist with held-back tears.

“Far from it,” K’Tran replied, just as a cacophony of voices roared out from the other side of the house, followed by a chorus of laughter. “You hear that? All those men and women came to honor your father. All our brothers and sisters in the Guild will keep hunting for Thring. They all loved your dad. Thring’s days are numbered.”

“I thought you were all rivals?”

K’Tran smiled. “We’re fighting friends. There’s a world of difference.” He put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Come on. We should go join them. Your mom’s gonna want you there, and I want to get to the food before Bellsch and Grim eat everything they can get their paws on. I’m hungry.”

Still gripping his shoulder, K’Tran led Jesse back to where everyone had gathered. Voices became more distinct as they drew near. One particularly gruff voice said, A toast! To Thom! The second-best bounty hunter in the galaxy!”

“So what would that make you, Drang? Fifth or sixth?” another voice shouted to a peal of laughter.

Someone began singing an old Trevarran drinking song. Others joined in, mostly off-key, and many singing the wrong words, but the spirit was there.

“You see?” K’Tran said as they drew nearer the crowd. “Your dad’s legacy. He won’t be forgotten, and mark my words, he will be avenged.”

Jesse nodded, giving his friend a small, appreciative smile, and moved off to stand between his mother and sister, putting an arm around each as they watched the revelers. Podo stood before them, swaying in time to the melody.

K’Tran moved through the crowd, receiving condolences for the loss of his good friend, and vows to help hunt Thring down, just as he had told Jesse they would.

The celebration of Thom’s life lasted well into the night, even after most of his family had retired to the house. Only Jesse had remained behind, keeping mostly to himself and the look on his face told K’Tran that he was by no means finished on the subject of vengeance. Far from it.

It may not be in the immediate future, but Jesse was going to go after Thring. That much was certain. The boy was far too strong-willed to let one simple talk dissuade him from the notion. Either Thring would be dead, or Jesse would.

And it was now K’Tran’s job to make sure it wasn’t the latter.


Copyright 2022 by Joseph J. Madden

Jesse and K'Tran's journey has only just begun. To read more, please check out The Starhawk Chronicles and The Starhawk Chronicles: Rest and Wreck-reation, available in paperback, e-book or audiobook.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0841YCBJN