Voidhawk

by Halstead, Jason

  Kragor grinned, proud of his shot. “Aye, and if it is it’s more raw material. But if it’s not, then I can use it!”

  Dexter shrugged and limped out of the ship toward the Gnat. He looked up at it and cursed.

  “What?” Kragor asked beside him.

  “I jumped out of it… didn’t lower the rope ladder.”

  “Hellfire!” Kragor spat, looking about. He spat on the ground then turned and stormed off, heading back into the Hawk’s Talon for a long minute before he came back out.

  “Here, try this,” Kragor offered, handing Dexter a coiled length of rope with a loop on the end of it.

  Dexter nodded and tossed the looped end up. It flew half the distance he needed before falling heavily at his feet. Kragor harrumphed and grabbed the rope from him, tossing it strongly and catching it on his first try. He tested it with his weight before awkwardly attempting to climb it. Strong though he was, the dwarf’s hands were no match for the rope. He cursed loudly as he slid to the ground and fell heavily upon his butt.

  Dexter shook his head and took the rope from him, then fought the urge to gasp with every attempt he made to pull himself higher. He paused twice to gather his breath and fight down the urge to vomit from the pain. Finally he made it, rolling onto his back and seeing spots in his vision. His tortured ribs rose and fell with each breath, reminding him forcefully of the need to control his breathing.

  “Come on!” Dexter called down to Kragor several moments later. The dwarf grinned and shook his head, pointing instead at the hooks for the rope ladder. Dexter muttered something about the dwarf’s preference in bed partners and kicked the coiled ladder down to him.

  Kragor was up on the scout ship a moment later, pulling up the ladder and rolling it up as he did so. Dexter shook his head and moved to sit in the helm, sighing happily when he did so. The chair was comfortable; it was made for a helmsman to sit in for hours at a time. Beyond that, when a helmsmen merged his consciousness with the ship he partially separated from his body and became aware of the ship in general. He could feel the damage done to it by the asteroids and the ballista, but it still felt a good deal more whole than he did.

  “We’re good, let’s go,” Kragor told him once he coiled up the rope Dexter had used to climb onto the ship.

  Dexter piloted the boat up off the asteroid and moved carefully to where he last saw the Ant. Kragor scanned the asteroid field, searching for wreckage. Dexter relived the chase in his head, remembering which direction it floated. He turned the Gnat starboard and set off. After a few minutes of cautious searching Kragor cried out. It was resting against another rock, nearly the size of a wagon, and though it looked to be poor shape it still held together.

  “Nice shot,” Dexter said.

  “Aye,” Kragor admitted, not picking up on his friend’s dark humor.

  “Wasn’t thinking about salvage when you let ‘er fly?”

  The dwarf turned to scowl at Dexter. “You didn’t give me much for warning, now did ya?”

  “I’m just thinking that a proper first mate would think of these things, that’s all.”

  “You’re lucky Jodyne’s taken such a shining to you boy,” Kragor spouted.

  “She does show a fondness for throwing the sharper knives at you, doesn’t she?”

  Kragor scowled again then turned to stare at the ant. Dexter closed with it slowly, taking no chances with either ship. Their banter ceased as the boats drew alongside one another.

  “You be a better pilot than me, you fly that heap back and I’ll take this one,” Kragor offered once Dexter had gently pulled up beside the battered ship. Dexter looked it over and nodded, knowing the dwarf was right. Anything but the most gentle of landings would ruin it for good.

  They exchanged positions and Dexter stepped onto the deck of the ant. He went to the helm and pulled the unconscious human out of it. Blood ran from one nostril, and without checking Dexter made the assumption that the man was dead. He dragged him to the side of the ship and pushed him off, letting him bob on the gravity plane of the merged ships in their air bubble and slowly be pushed out to the void as he flew the ship.

  Dexter set the ant down first, doing his best to be gentle with the unfamiliar design. He judged himself successful by the faint protest of groaning timbers when he settled the full weight on the rocky ground of the asteroid.

  Kragor landed heavily a few moments later, cracking on of the landing struts on the Gnat and making Dexter cringe. The dwarf kicked the ladder over the edge and hurried down it, grinning like a fool.

  “How many ships have you piloted?” Dexter asked him.

  “Three,” Kragor said, still grinning. “Now.”

  Dexter closed his eyes and sighed. Kragor spoke up again, “Of course the other two were thirty years or more back.”

  Dexter felt a fresh pain creeping up his back. He turned away and headed towards the gnat. “Strip the bodies and get rid of them,” Dexter said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “I can head back myself, does the ant have enough power?” Kragor asked.

  “It’s about half full, might be enough to get you back if you’re careful. Be careful though, someone might recognize it.”

  Kragor turned to look at it and stroked his beard. “Aye, good point… I’ll have to fix that.”

  “Good job today, Captain!” Kragor called out as Dexter climbed up the ladder to the gnat.

  At the top Dexter turned and grinned, his injuries partially forgotten at the warm glow being called a captain caused. “Thanks,” he said, feeling his cheeks warm. He grinned and said, “Now get them off my ship!”

  Kragor laughed and waved at him then turned to go and tend to the bodies. Dexter watched him for a moment then turned and reclaimed his helm. A moment later he was flying again and making his way carefully out of the asteroid field to return to New Haven. Along the way he spent the majority of his time thinking up a good story to explain both his injuries and those of his ship.

  * * * *

  Dexter’s story had sounded good to him. Good enough, he judged to insure his only problems would be in returning to pick up Kragor. His superiors proved more suspicious, experienced, and wise to the fanciful dreams of a young pilot, however.

  Under threat of torture he confessed that he had been venturing out beyond the Federation space and accepting bribes from pirates. He insisted the information he shared was either false or inconsequential, though that earned him no favor with the Federation officers. The damage to his gnat and to himself had occurred when his contacts grew tired of him not giving them proper results. He’d had to fight them off and barely escaped with his life.

  With Dexter’s story finally accepted, he was sentenced to two weeks in jail. He was also stripped of all Federation rank and privilege. He accepted the punishment stoically, not giving any hint to the relief and elation coursing through his veins. He had escaped death, dismemberment, torture, and even managed to get out of the Federation before his three year contract was up.

  Dexter was relinquished to a community cell with several others, most of them short term. The smell was anything but pleasant, what with unwashed bodies and a poorly maintained hole in the corner of the cell for waste. The food often reminded Dexter of what lay in the shallow waste-hole, offering little in the way of nourishment, taste, or a desire to eat it. In spite of the conditions Dexter had a light heart and endured it well.

  Fights broke out daily. Sometimes a result of overcrowding and tempers but more often they were centered around a blond elven woman. It was unusual to find a lone elf in Federation space, especially a woman. Dexter found it less unusual to see that her attitude was big enough to stretch all the way back to the Elven Empire. Dexter did his best to stay out of the conflicts; he avoided the elf because elves were trouble.

  Why else would the elves have their own empire and be at odds more often than not with the Federation? He could only assume she was a spy, tossed in jail either to await a public hanging or simply to ro
t away. By the time twelve days had passed he had seen enough of the brutal beatings and her valiant attempts at fending off the beasts. Each fight ended with the attacker on the floor, beaten. The elf stood above, her knuckles cracked and bleeding but the glare in her eyes keeping those still conscious from daring to rise.

  The twelfth day brought a change to the bizarre ritual. Three thugs were thrown into the cell and everyone knew enough to keep their distance. Left to their own devices, they noticed the elf and whispered among one another with malicious glances in her direction. That night they made their move, attacking her. She broke the nose of one and snapped the wrist of another before they finally succeeded where others had failed. One held her while another beat her to the point of unconscious. The third one, the one with the broken nose, ripped her shirt and displayed her for his amusement, then yanked down her pants and untied his own breeches.

  Angry at the unfair treatment of the woman, Dexter intervened. His fist smashed into the back of the broken-nosed man’s neck. The ruffian dropped like a bag of wheat to the stone floor and before he could recover, Dexter drove his foot into the man’s ribs. Dexter winced at the ironic pain in his own unhealed ribs from the force of the assault.

  He turned to the other two and stared at them, breathing heavily. “Lots of men tried to have their fun with her, and she’s beat every one of them down. You want her, you can have her, but you go one on one to see what she thinks of you first.”

  Fresh life flared into the elf. She struggled anew and smashed her head back into the face of the man holding her, breaking his nose as well. She twisted away from him and punched the other man in the throat, nearly crushing his windpipe. He stumbled backwards against the wall grasping his throat and forcing harsh breaths through his constricted airway. She turned to the man behind her and drew back her fist. Dexter caught it before she threw the punch. “I think he’s found something better to interest him.”

  The man nodded, blood gushing over his chin and shirt. He pinched his nose to stem the bleeding and stumbled away. A few of the other prisoners he tripped over cursed at him.

  The elven warrior woman stared at him for a long moment and then yanked her hand free of his. She impressed him with her strength and her beauty, even if it was a bit bruised and bloodied at the moment. Dexter turned away from her respectfully when she reached to pull her pants back up and retie them.

  Fingers pinched painfully into the back of his neck and he inhaled sharply. The surprise turned quickly to pain as the pressure increased and it took every bit of willpower he had to keep his knees from buckling

  “Never turn your back on me,” she said, her common only slightly accented.

  “Sorry,” Dexter hissed, holding up his hands.

  She let go after a final squeeze and he turned to face her, rubbing the sore spots on his neck. “Just trying to be a gentleman,” he said, scanning her now covered form.

  She tied the tattered ends of her shit in a knot under her breast bone, the front open to the plunge, revealing a pleasant curve of cleavage despite her slight chest. “You’re not, so don’t.”

  Dexter raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. He nodded. “Fair enough. Dexter Silvercloud’s the name.”

  She looked at his offered hand a long moment then at last shook it. Again Dexter was impressed with her grip. Her hands were callused too, the hands of a warrior.

  “How long you here?” he asked her, moving back towards a wall. The gasping thug regained his breath enough to scamper away from them. The other thug, remained unconscious on the floor.

  “I’m to be tried for espionage,” she said, as if that explained it all.

  “Espionage?” Dexter asked, surprised that his fanciful imaginings might have been true.

  “It means spying.”

  “I know that!” Dexter snapped, then softened his tone. “I was just surprised is all. What did you do to deserve that?”

  “Wrong place, wrong time,” she said.

  Dexter laughed. “That I can believe.”

  “Look, thanks for the help, I owe you one. That don’t mean I’m going to be laying with you though.”

  Dexter chuckled and grinned. “I like you.”

  “So did he,” she said, nodding towards the unconscious ruffian.

  “Not like that!,” Dexter said, rolling his eyes. “I meant I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

  “What do you mean? I’m stuck in here until they decide to stage a mock trial and then execute me.”

  “What’s your name?” Dexter asked her, speaking a little more quietly.

  She eyed him warily for a moment then relented. “Jenna.”

  “Just Jenna?”

  “For now, yes, just Jenna.”

  Dexter nodded. “Alright, Just Jenna, how would you like a job?”

  “A job?” Jenna quipped, laughing.

  Dexter liked the sound of her laughter, even when it was scornful and directed at him. It was musical. “Aye, a job. I can get you out of here and I’m offering you a job.”

  She laughed again. “You can’t even get yourself out of here, what makes you think you can get me out.”

  “I used to work for the Federation,” Dexter began.

  “Used to? How’s that help?”

  “’Used to’ means up until they let me go in two days I’m on their payroll,” Dexter explained. “There was some miscommunication that ended me up in here.”

  “Miscommunication?” Jenna asked, pressing for more but talking as softly as he to minimize the eavesdropping.

  Dexter shrugged. “Yeah, had they really known what I was doing I’d probably be dead or missing some body parts.”

  Jenna looked at him for a long minute then laughed again, this time not at his expense. “Okay, go on.”

  “You’re a political prisoner, that means they’ll leave you in here for ages until they need you to act as a lesson, then they’ll parade you around, make up some charges, and publicly execute you.”

  Jenna shrugged. “That’s what I said, you’re not impressing me.”

  “Know how the execute people here? Disemboweling is a favorite, stretching on the rack is another, or the crowd favorite, drawing and quartering,” Dexter said, trying to drive home his point.

  The elven woman just shrugged again, showing no real concern about the means of her potential demise. “So how can you get me out?”

  “For someone like you they’ll release you into the custody of a citizen with a clean record as long as he pays bail.”

  “You don’t have a clean record, remember?”

  He chuckled. “No, not anymore… but my first mate does.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed suspiciously. “Your first mate? That make you a…”

  Dexter nodded, looking around meaningfully. She understood, he didn’t want anyone else knowing. “Aye, I’ve got a ship nearby. Once I’m out of here I’ll come back and secure your release, if you’ll sail with me.”

  “I’m not a whore to be bought and paid for,” Jenna said, her voice quiet but possessing a dangerous tone.

  Dexter held up his hands. “No worry, Just Jenna, I’m not after that. I need some deckhands and an Armsmaster. If you’re half as good with a blade as you are with your fists, you fit the bill.”

  Jenna smirked, an expression that looked mysterious and comical at the same time on her delicate cheek. “I’m better,” she stated. “Sounds like you don’t have a full crew yet.”

  Dexter waved her concern away. “Just picking up a few more to round us out a little better is all.”

  “I’ll think on it,” she said, squatting down and resting her back against the wall.

  Dexter slid down as well, then looked around at the shadowy forms of the other prisoners in the murky half light. “Don’t think too long, I’ll be gone soon enough and so will the offer.”

  * * * *

  The next day and a half proved almost more than Dexter could bear. Nearly finished with his jail term, h
e longed to be out and working on getting the Hawk’s Talon ready to fly again. Not only that, but the elf continued to stick close to him, talking occasionally though sharing nothing more of herself. He had never been happier to see his friend than when two guards opened up the cell door and Kragor stood waiting with them. Dexter grinned and turned to Jenna. She regarded the dwarf, muttering something in elvish that Dexter knew was derogatory. She returned her gaze to Dexter and nodded. Another man stood and cleared his throat, stepping closer to Dexter. Slim and a few inches shorter than Dexter, the man had hair closely shorn to his head beneath the cowl of a hood that kept his face shadowed.

  He hissed in a surprisingly soft voice, “I’ve heard what you’ve spoken of and I would offer my services as well.”

  Dexter’s bounced between Jenna and the other prisoner. “Who are you and what are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. I can help you… I’m an experienced helmsman and if you don’t take me, I’ll tell the Feds what you were really up to that got you tossed in here.”

  Dexter’s eyes widened and his fists clenched at his sides. Jenna glared at the man, staring daggers into him, but under the watchful eyes of the guard they said and did nothing.

  “Dexter Silvercloud, get your arse out here or you can rot in there till the rats eat the flesh from your bones!” One of the guards called into the cell.