When Jesse was eight years old, his mother was murdered five days before Christmas. The most painful memory was on that Christmas day; all of his mother’s presents remained under the tree after everyone else’s presents had been opened. He stared at them, not being able to understand why his mother wasn’t there with him. He never left her side when she was alive, and it damaged him forever when she was ripped away from his life. He never had that motherly love and guidance every child needs while growing up. His stepmother had come into his life when he was fourteen. The day of his mother’s funeral he cried so hard that he could not see for hours. Jesse had a couple of digital images of his mother on the left side wall close to his flight window. One digital image was of his mom with a drink in her hand staring at the floor with a blank look on her face. Another digital image was of his mom and dad lying on a couch looking like a couple of hippies. When the hippie movement came back forty years ago, his parents were all for it. His dad had long, blonde hair and a long, scraggly beard, smiling with a cigarette barely hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Jesse always thought his father was one of the coolest men he had ever known. He loved him dearly and wished that he had spent more time with him. His father always made sure that he told Jesse every day that he loved him. After his mother’s death, Jesse felt that he was lost and was no good to the world, or to anyone, and just wanted to hide from everyone. When Jesse and his father moved to New Jersey, he was fourteen. His father quickly married a woman he had dated long before his father had met his mother. His father’s attention had been redirected to his new wife, and Jesse felt more than a little jealous. In time, he grew to love his stepmother very much and felt that she was more than a tremendous replacement. He just wished that she had come into his life a lot earlier so that he would have had the motherly guidance and love that he had needed. She was tough with him, but he knew it was because she had grown to love him as a son. They had formed a strong bond. Jesse wasn’t sure if she realized how much he really loved her and hoped one day that she knew. Jesse had a digital image of his father and stepmother as well by his flight window.
He looked over to one last digital image of his biological mother. It was a digital image with a sad history. It was of him and his mother when Jesse was about five years old, he had guessed, and his mother was holding him. They were both smiling, but the smiles were hard to form. At the time, his stepfather, who his mother married after she and his real father were divorced, was physically abusing him and his mother and sister. His stepfather was a horrible man who led his mother deeper into drinking and then eventually into drugs. He treated them like shit. Jesse and his mother would weep for hours together and talked about how she wanted to get back with his biological father. On the night when Jesse was visiting his grandmother at her apartment on the Kobia Space Station, his mother and stepfather were intoxicated. They had gotten into a quarrel. She had been talking to Jesse’s real father for the past two weeks, and they were planning on getting back together. That night, when she couldn’t take anymore of her abusive husband’s shit, she told him she was leaving and going back to her ex-husband. She left the house. Jesse was told that his mother was walking on the highway trying to get back to her ex-husband so that they could all be a family together again. While she was walking, she was hit by a hover car. Whether it was true or not, Jesse always thought that his stepfather had something to do with her death. He was extremely jealous and threatened her many times that if she ever left him, he would kill her. Even if he wasn’t personally driving the hover car, he was still the cause of her death. His stepfather had a shady past and once belonged to one of the most ruthless biker gangs to have ever existed on Earth. He was not a man to be messed with, or at least he used to be. Before Jesse could confront his stepfather, he found out that he had passed away.
With that last thought, Jesse reached over to his flight console and took out a prescription bottle containing painkillers. He scattered six pills into his palm and, with a slap, popped them in his mouth, washing them down with a beer. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and imagined the drugs sliding down his throat, smoothly settling in his stomach. He felt and imagined them slowly dissolving and then flooding through his bloodstream, which transported the drugs to every cell of his body, taking away his worries and heartaches and bringing on a cloud of happiness and peace. Jesse kind of knew that he had a problem with drugs but was not fully willing to eradicate his addiction. He knew that drugs were his way of coping with his problems, despite his knowledge of several more effective methods. Jesse often did things he consciously knew were not good for him, but he attributed his shortcomings to his addictive personality. Sometimes, when he would get really depressed, he thought about killing himself. Not that he ever got dramatic about it, but more or less thought about grabbing one of his pistols and blowing his own brains out. He really didn’t want to die but thought it would be easier to end things. Jesse always thought that the solar system would be better off without him in it.
Trying to block out the negativity of his mind, he put on some classical acoustic guitar music, then kept his eyes closed and allowed himself to be taken away from reality. Reality wasn’t a plane of existence that he liked to be in. At least he hadn’t yet found a reason to want to stay in it. Jesse desperately wanted to smoke some marijuana but decided to leave marijuana alone for a while. He loved to smoke weed, but it made him way too paranoid. He also had a few bad drug trips that had led him to fly his ship to places he had no idea on how he got there.
He leaned back further into his flight chair and propped his black biker boots up on his console. Jesse didn’t like the taste of beer but drank it to strengthen the effect of the painkillers. He never admitted to his friends that he didn’t like the taste of alcohol and would cover it up by drinking them all under the table. After a few minutes, Jesse found himself staring off into space. His eyes began to tear up with the thought of his mother. He shook his head trying to get her out of his mind.
“Much better,” he said to himself. Jesse raised his beer toward the flight window. He was beginning to feel high from the drugs, which were amplified by the alcohol. “Mother space, you are my only true love, aren’t you? Although you share yourself with many, many other men and women, and God only knows with what else, I still love you unconditionally.” Jesse toasted the stars.
“Here’s to the Black Ice, Michigan, and New Jersey,” Jesse said, as he toasted the stars again and finished off his beer.
Jesse was born in Detroit, was raised mostly in New Jersey, and missed them both from time to time. Several minutes later, he began to feel his body become increasingly heavy and relaxed, then he passed out. After a few hours of unconsciousness, the tired space pirate woke from his deep sleep, or what he liked to call his drug induced coma. He dropped his feet to the metal floor and began to stomp them, trying to get out the numbness.
“B.I., turn on the lights,” he ordered in a low, unawake voice. The lights came alive at his command.
After checking his ship’s systems, the young smuggler left his flight room and began to walk down the long hallway. He used the bulkhead to keep himself from falling. After leaving the flight room, the next entrance to the right of the hallway was his living room. The living room was a large area, equipped with a bar along with a wide array of alcohol. Behind the bar was a mirror, and above it, there was an overhanging rack that held a large assortment of different-colored drinking glasses. His favorite shot glass always rested on the bar. It was a gift from someone very special to him. The shot glass had different pirate flags wrapped around it. He entered the room and took a couple quick shots of absinthe before heading to his cargo area. Still groggy, Jesse over poured the liquor in the shot glass, spilling it onto the bar. He looked around the room and wished that the long, red couches that were scattered around were occupied with old friends, some of whom were dead. In the center of the room rested a large, round, silver metal coffee table that could be made to dis
appear into the deck by pressing a button located near the bar. He liked it because it freed up more space. In front of the couches, and imbedded in the wall, was a seventy-inch flat digital screen. Jesse watched a lot of movies and solar cable channels on the large screen. When he wanted to, he could make the digital screen display the views out of the flight window, short and long range scanners, as well as the aft view of his ship. There were other chairs placed around the room, as well as large pillows, in which guests could comfortably sit. The light in the living room was always left dim, just the way he liked it. Jesse didn’t care for the light; in fact, he wasn’t all that crazy about sunlight. He preferred low-lit, artificial lighting. When he was on any of the planets, he only liked it when it rained because it hid the sunlight and was dark. He knew that this might sound strange to other people, but he preferred the dark. After his shots, he made his way to his cargo room.
The interior of the ship was a light, silver-colored metal, giving it a look of sophistication. The hatches that led to each section resembled that of an old naval ship. They were round except for the bottom, which was flat. He preferred it that way. His last ship was a little older, and one had to step over the knee knockers to get to the next section.
The hallway was separated in the middle; to his left there was a mechanical lift. Behind the lift there was a metal ladder that went to the two lower levels, in case the lift malfunctioned. Jesse ventured straight ahead to his cargo area. Leaning against the doorway, he stared at the large obelisk. He usually never took an interest in what he was smuggling, but he found the design of the obelisk to be extraordinary. Strange patterns of hieroglyphics circled around it in a spiral design from top to bottom. What intrigued him was that he had seen similar markings in his engine room. He remembered seeing them on a couple sections of his ship’s engine parts. He never understood why they were there or what they meant. It was one of the mysteries of his ship that he had planned on unlocking in the future.
There’s a solid base about four feet high; the rest of the obelisk looked as if it opened from the center. There was a line in the center that extended from the top to the base. Three buttons were on the base, giving Jesse a childish urge to press one of the buttons to see what would happen. He grinned. “Nah,” he whispered under his breath. He had to stick to his rules, the most important being never peek inside. If the client didn’t divulge what was inside, then you didn’t ask. Sometimes, it was best if you didn’t know what you were carrying.
Although Jesse was pretty laid back, he didn’t trust anyone, which caused him to keep to himself most of the time. Jesse was gifted at predicting what someone would do before they would actually do it. It had proved useful in his favor a number of times. He studied the ancient Chinese philosophies of Sun Tzu who wrote The Art of War over two thousand years ago. It was a book of strategies on war, but it could also be used in a number of different situations of daily life. Captain Barakat gave Jesse a copy of the book and told him to study it well, which he did.
Sometimes Jesse felt alone in the vastness of space and would try to compensate for it by finding a female companion for a while. He loved women very much but really didn’t want to deal with them at present. Jesse was doing whatever he could to stay clear of his last girlfriend, Monica. She mentally wore him out to such a great extent that he didn’t mind being alone for a while. He smiled at the thought of her and then shook his head. She had almost driven him to the brink of insanity. He loved her very much, but she was a woman obsessed with power and wealth. He was also disturbed by the fact that she was somewhat bloodthirsty, like his friend, Luis. She was an obsessive woman who wanted to rule the solar system, if she thought it at all feasible. She was known as the scariest bitch in the solar system. In the end, he had to let her go. He felt she wanted too much from him. Before they broke up, she had grown extremely jealous. Monica did not take the break-up well and had sent a message throughout the entire solar system that no woman was allowed to touch Jesse Kincaid or she would burn them alive. Jesse shook his head at that thought. He remembered how she had hacked into every network and gave the message live throughout the entire solar system. Jesse heard that she had traded in her old ship over a year ago for a much larger one. Like Luis, she also worked for Elijah, but cut her ties with him around the same time she bought her new ship. She wanted to become more powerful than Elijah. She named her ship “The Huntington” in jest of how she was going to hunt down her beloved Jesse and make him stay with her forever. Monica was bi-sexual. She had always had a female crew and had recruited many females to run her new ship. Her entire crew consisted of women who were either bi-sexual or lesbian. Within the last two years of their break-up, Jesse had heard her crew compliment exceeded Luis’. Jesse had had a few close calls and had managed to dodge her quite a number of times. The more he slipped through her fingers, the more obsessed she became.
Jesse missed going to some of his favorite bars and hangouts on some of the space stations. He had to cut down since Monica vowed she would find him and make him stay with her. He also had to be more careful since the UPG had put a bounty on his head for one million credits. Most of the people Jesse hung out with didn’t pay any attention to the bounty. Many people were loyal to Jesse, and the people who were not loyal feared him too much to attempt to collect a reward. Jesse was known to be extremely quick on the draw, which he had had to demonstrate more than once. Nearly everyone in the solar system knew who the White Skull was. His legend had grown since he joined the starship Hell Fire. Jesse’s name became known when he had killed many men who wanted to make a name for themselves. The UPG placed wanted posters all over the surrounding solar system, mostly in the gambling establishments, bars, and many of the space stations. He hung one of the wanted posters in his cargo room for amusement. He glanced over at it, folded his arms, and grinned. He knew the digital image of him was at least five years old because his face was thinner than it was now. The space pirate read it out loud, “Wanted...Dead or Alive... The UPG will pay one million credits to anyone for the capture of the notorious space pirate known as the White Skull. He can also be identified by the skull and crossbones tattooed on right forearm.”
The skull and crossbones are an important symbol for a pirate. It meant death to anyone who crossed him and represented total freedom. With his arms still folded, Jesse looked at the tattoo. He remembered the day he got it; it was when he was aboard the starship Hell Fire. Luis took him to a tattoo parlor on the space station called the Rising Sun. Captain Barakat had taken it over, and his entire crew of pirates, including Jesse, raided and looted the station within hours. The captain ordered that some of the people, mainly the bartenders, be left alive. Luis got a tattoo of a dragon on his back, and Jesse got the tattoo of the skull and crossbones on his right forearm. He grew rather fond of his tattoo, felt it was symbolic of his new career and his thoughts toward life in general. Of course, Jesse had many other tattoos, but the skull and crossbones meant a lot more to him. He wanted to live freely, without any societal restrictions. Another favorite tattoo of Jesse’s, was the tattoo that said, “Born in Detroit and raised in New Jersey, so don’t fuck with me.” He was proud of where he came from. The White Skull loved getting tattoos. He had them placed all over his body and decided he wouldn’t be satisfied until most of his body was covered. Jesse eventually wanted to get skulls and crossbones tattooed on his fingers so that when he punched someone, it would be the last thing they saw.
The young space pirate walked around his cargo bay and straightened up a little. He liked things organized as much as possible, although he could be a slob sometimes, like most men. After a half an hour, he took a quick trip to his flight room to check to see if anyone was following him. He pressed in a code on his flight console and a secret compartment opened up from underneath. Jesse reached in, pulled out a metal watch, and placed it on his wrist. It was no ordinary watch. It was a device in which he could check his ship’s systems, and yes, it could also tell the time. It could e
ven be used as a remote device while he was away from his ship. If Jesse was in danger, he could summon his ship to his location. It had proven invaluable to him in the last couple of situations.
He took the lift down to the second level where his room was and took a long, hot shower, just the way he liked it. He changed his clothes to something black and then turned on a large digital screen on the wall across from his large, round bed. Jesse pressed a button on his screen and split the view in three sections: one screen for the solar news, one for a view out of his flight window, and the third was for long-range radar. With a towel around his neck, the space pirate propped up some pillows against the headboard of his bed and laid back. As he began watching the solar news, his thoughts drifted to the previous owner of his ship.
The Black Ice used to belong to a rich aristocrat who had dabbled in espionage for the UPG. Randal Fleming was a wealthy man, who, according to rumor, designed the Black Ice himself and had the UPG build it. He used the ship for their benefit as well as his own. Randal wasn’t a military man or a politician; instead, he was just bored and sought out a new hobby every couple of years. He was vastly educated and was an expert in countless fields, which was one of the luxuries of being well off. His knowledge surpassed many of the top professors and doctors affiliated with the UPG. Espionage was the next subject to conquer on his long list of things to do.
Randal designed the ship to resemble a black, jagged space rock for covertness so he could close in and spy on his prey. The Black Ice is, in fact, ideal for spying. When in flight, the Black Ice could be maneuvered to roll in a circular motion, the same way a real space rock would spin. Unfortunately for Randal, rumor had it that the UPG had him executed, probably for knowing too much scandalous inside information. The cause of his death and the persons responsible were an inclusive mystery. All anyone knew was that one day Randal Fleming no longer existed and his ship was for sale on the black market. Jesse quickly purchased it from Elijah. How he got ahold of the ship was an ambiguity in itself. Jesse really didn’t care since he got what he sought after. The Black Ice was the envy of every smuggler and space pirate, mainly for the reason that it had exceedingly sophisticated technology. Jesse did guess, however, that Elijah probably acquired the Black Ice from the UPG so that they could quickly wash their hands of it and the assassination of Randal. Most of the human species were entirely unaware of what was really going on behind the doors of the UPG. Most people didn’t dare question any dealings their government was up to. When the system-wide executions began in the later years of the government, people became too afraid to speak out and didn’t want to interfere with the government. The UPG had transactions in every facet of criminal activity, including having its hand deep in the black market.
Voyages of the White Skull Book 1 Page 3
