Few things. First, this is only two chapters in a story I've been working on. Second, its an attempt at a completely new writing style for me. My previous works (most of which cannot be found on this site.) have all suffered from what I'll call detailitis. That is getting caught up in the details and losing sight of the story its self. Herald's End became a chore to write, so I stopped writing it. I'm hoping that by adopting a lighter more... pulpy style, that I can keep the story interesting and keep the flow going at a consistant pace. Please excuse any and all spelling errors, punctuation mistakes, etc. I don't have internet a whole lot, and my Word ran out, so Ill have to find a new program for spell checking. (Open Office here i come!) Thanks for reading, and any and all comments are most appreciated.
Knight’s Oath. (For a few credits more.)
Edward “Squire” Malach leaned back in his pilot’s chair as he debated his options.
“I think you are full of it. I can get some Aesir fours off of the com-market for under 70 credits.”
The insectoid’s face on his screen clicked its mandibles furiously as it spat out its response.
“The queen’s guard take you! You know quite well that my Kajun eighty-ones will go for a good 200 easy! I’ll not part with them for less than eighty.”
Edward exasperated his sigh, and pretended to mutter under his breath as he pulled up his data tablet and held it in front of the screen.
“Fine… FINE! Robbery is what this is. At least pirates have the decency to shoot at me!”
The insectoid clicked its mandibles once more, wether in irritation or victory he couldn’t tell. Then the screen closed out, and he found himself looking at a blank ship console. Checking his datapad once more, Edward made sure the transaction was completed before rising to his feet. If all went according to plan, his goods would be dropped off within an hour or two. Stretching his arms, the young pilot yawned as he moved to the locker in the rear of the command cabin. He pulled out a vest and slipped it over his flight suit as he used a free hand to tap the data pad several times. Satisfied with the results, Edward withdrew a pistol and combat knife, and strapped each of them to his sides. It was time to hit the bar.
It didn’t take long for the trader to find a bar. Space stations tended to accommodate the needs of their clientele. Traders, Smugglers, Police, Combateers, Bounty Hunters, and all manner of space professions called the giant metal behemoths home. Hanging in orbit above the planet like a small moon, each station was a city unto its-self. The Galactic Cooperative of Worlds had designed them to operate independently of the political situation below, which meant that they where governed by Galcop law. In this case, the corporate world of Ensoreous below had little to no power over the goods and services offered by its own station. Privately Edward was glad for this. He’d been planetside several times, and the sheer amount of advertising was horrific. A man couldn’t even finish a glass of Ensorian brandy without noticing some small advertisement at the bottom. The Glittering Gecko seemed like any other spacer’s bar upon entry. Dark, crowded, and loud. The dull roar of the crowd was almost as disconcerting as the smell. Making his way to the bar, Edward managed to find an open stool as he waved the bartender over. The petite woman took his order of one Pirate Tom as he looked to one of the many vid-screens.
“This is Heather Lannley with everything you need to know. In the most recent news, a generation ship was hit by the infamous Bilar Boys. The pirates where reported to have attacked with several wings of kraits and their now famous flag-ship, a Boa Clipper christened ‘Reaper’s Grimace’. The authorities got to the scene just as the bandits where jumping out. No survivors where found. In other recent events, it looks like Prince Harold has done it again! Having lost roughly fifty-three thousand credits at the jib-tables he went on a drunken tirade and was found nude in a fountain just outside Archernar’s Hoopy Casino. Now ladies, try to contain yourself while looking for photos. We all know that the empire finds love-making ‘disgusting’ and ‘unsanitary’. Finally, it looks as if Isis Interstellar is going to be showcasing their latest ship, the King Cobra. Sources tell us that this is a ‘luxery’ edition of their recently released Cobra Mk. IV.”
Edward turned from the screen as his drink arrived. The glass was straight rum, as Edward had never really believed in mixing his hard alcohol. If he needed something lighter, he’d get a beer. Downing the glass in three strained gulps, the pilot gave a hearty sigh as he looked to the comm screen under his drink. Clicking it several times, he brought up the local bulletin boards. The Galactic Navy had an advertisement for Competent ranked combateers, but other than this it seemed as if things where pretty quiet on the job boards. Ordering a beer, Edward was just about to check the commodities market once more, when he heard shouting. Turning, the trader rested a hand on his pulse pistol as something heavy moved past him. It was hard to tell in the darkness of the crowd, but it looked as if four individuals where squaring off in the middle of the room. Several people made their way for the door as the shouting intensified.
“You’ll be damned old man! What happens on the ‘lanes stays on the ‘lanes. We ain’t got no fugitive status, so we gots as much a rights to this space station has anyone else.”
The speaker was a rather large looking man covered in tattoos. His companion was of similair size, and the two where holding on to some ancient looking scatter-guns. Staring them down was an old man who looked like the strongest gust could snap him in half. His hand rested just under his black coat obviously on a concealed weapon of some sort.
“I’ll give you once chance to come in peacefully before me and my companion here have to put
you down. The bounty doesn’t say anything about alive.”
His voice was soft and raspy. Clearly the work of too much smoking and alcohol. His ‘companion’
was hard to place, as they where smaller, but still in a flight suit with a full plexi-screen helmet on. They where holding what looked to be some sort of lazpistol.
“Hrmph! Common bounty hunters, is there no lower form of scum.”
Unfazed by the happenings in the center of her bar, the bartender placed his beer in front of him as Edward withdrew his datapad and started to transfer her tip to the bar account.
Then, the shooting started.
Edward just managed to hit the floor as something flew over his head. Looking up, he saw the electro-screen flare blue as the shot was deflected away from the barkeep. She ducked out of sight as another shot sounded. The screen could protect against laser fire, but not buckshot. Edward found his hands over his head as he kicked to his side and ‘shrimped’ his way under a stool. The bar had mostly cleared out, but he could see several other denizens start to pull hand weapons just as he was. Pulse-pistol in hand, Edward crawled for the corner of the bar as several more shouts sounded, along with a curse, and what sounded like a gurgle. The shooting intensified as Edward pulled himself around the edge, and scrambled back into the corner. He gingerly flicked the safety from his pistol as he tried to pull himself up and peek over the counter.
The scene was one of complete chaos. It looked as if one of the accused was on the ground, but the other had dove into a booth, and was just pumping his scatter-gun in every direction. Several bystanders had been hit, and it looked like the smaller bounty hunter had taken some lead as well. The old man was using a knocked over table as cover, and alternated between firing a disturbingly large laser pistol, and patching up his teammate. From his vantage point, Edward realized he was right across from the loon with the shotgun. Looking down, he checked his pulse pistol a final time, before aiming, and pulling the trigger.
A brilliant light filled the bar as the projectile was fired. It became a blur as it gathered speed, and the ball of light slammed into the man’s free arm. The man roared as he felt his arm go limp, and used his free hand to aim his gun at Edward. Ducking, Edward heard rather then saw the buckshot tear up the wall behind him. Looking up once more, he fired off two quick shots. More brilliant light filled the bar, and then the room was filled with silence.
Edward quickly checked himself before leaping to his feet. Adrenaline pumping, he looked to his opponent first. The man was laying on the ground, slack-jawed and drooling into the carpet. Edward grinned. Pulse weapons where different then the standard lazer or projectile weapons. They had been designed as non-lethal alternatives to standard firearms. The ‘pulse’ part of the name came from the radiation that propelled the projectile, if it touched any part of the body, it interefered with the firing of neurons, and communication among the nerves. It effectively rendered the target immobile for fifteen minutes. Edward hadn’t been in a a situation yet where controlled paralysis was trumped by a slug. Holstering his pistol with a relieved sigh, Edward turned and grabbed a random beer from the bar.
The old man was helping his companion to their feet as he looked around the room with an
unhappy grimace.
“I told you not to shoot unless they did! Look at this mess. We will be lucky if our bounty covers the damages.”
A muffled voice responded in irritation from beneath the helmet.
“Aww hell with you, that bastard was gonna pull if I gave him another second.”
The two made their way to the bar and asked the bartender to call the station police, then the older man looked at Edward. Up close, he looked absolutely fearsome. The leathery skin was covered in scars, and the deep blue eyes had an unsettling quality about them, what Edward could only describe as ‘hawkish’.
“I don’t say this often, but thanks kid. That could have gone a whole lot worse. Since you took the risk, how much of the bounty you want?”
Edward grinned.
“I’ll settle for a beer.”
The three drank together until the station police arrived, and then they moved to a somewhat more respectable establishment. Taking a corner table, Edward was surprised to find himself sitting across from a blue-skinned humanoid. The old man laughed at Edward’s stare.
“I’m guessing you don’t much visit the foreign quarters around these stations. I don’t blame you. Not many humans bother to understand the inhabitants of other worlds, even less so those that make a living on the space lanes. You are a spacer aren’t you?”
Edward quickly looked back to the old man.
“Yes. Yeah. I uh.. Ive been trading for the last three years. Graduated the academy at Lave, and got my license shortly after.”
Despite his best efforts, Edward found his gaze drawn back to the man’s companion. Now that she had removed her helmet, she was a rather alien sight. Edward was used to haggling with the locals, usually descendents of animals. Rats, felines, birds, insects, even some equines. However, it was always the humanoid ones that really grabbed him. Maybe because they looked so similair, yet so… different. The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her eyes where jet black. With no pupils to be seen, and her skin looked…. Rubbery. Like a dolphin or some other aquatic animal.
The old man grinned.
“This is Moora, her people had a big hand in making the Moray Starboat. They are one of the three native aquatic species of that world. In case you couldn’t tell, we are bounty hunters. Been working out of the Loving Feline in Ararus space for a good while now.”
A waitress gave an apologetic smile as she set her food tray down and passed out the drinks and meals. Their conversation partially interrupted, the three began to eat. Edward hadn’t had a meal that wasn’t frozen before-hand in a good three months. He reflected that he needed to have real food every once in a while, you tended to forget the taste. After the meal, the three sat back with contented looks as the waitress handed out another round of drinks.
“Say whats your rating Edward?”
Edward blinked. He had never really paid attention to his Elite Federation rating. Sure, a lot of folks swore by their rating, but he was a trader, and only fired his weapons in self-defence.
“Eh, Competent. I’m a trader, not a fighter.”
The man grinned. Then Moora snorted.
“Like that’s any excuse. I’m Dangerous, and Gerrard is Deadly.”
Edward shrugged.
“Never put much faith in it really. A crappy pirate in a Cobra Mk 1 can get off a lucky hard-head and wipe anyone, even someone who is Elite. Besides, I’d rather not be judged by how many I’ve murdered.
No offense of course.”
Gerrard gave Moora a sly grin, before extending his hand.
“Well, it was nice to meet you Edward. Good luck out there. I think we will meet again.”
Edward blinked and started to frown, but Moora was already rising to her feet, so he grasped the
man’s hand and shook.
“Uh.. sure? I guess.”
Laughing, Gerrard left a confused Edward sitting at the table.
End Ch. 1
Edward pulled back on the stick, pushing the nose of his ship up and away from the station on his vid-screen. Switching back to the forward view with the touch of a button, he studied the planet below. Ensoreous was a tedious little planet. Run by 5.2 billion black felines who obsessed over their corporate beauracracy on a daily basis. A far cry from where he was going. The pilot strapped himself into his seat and prepared to 'jump'. Ship travel between star systems was made possible by a series of wormholes that had been discovered during the frontier age. The earliest pioneers had used them to reach the distant stars, and worlds beyond the reach of standard technology. Now traders and various other space-goers used them to jump from system to system. Despite his Academy courses, Edward was hard-pressed to come up with an actual scientific explanation on how they worked or even why everyone just called it 'witchspace'. He looked down to his console as he activated the hyperspace sequence.
Hyperspace in 15s
Leaning back, he did one final status check on his ship. The shields where operating at full capacity. The reactor's low hum told him that not only was it pumping minute amounts of radiation into him, but it too, was at peak efficiency. His engines cut out as he pulled the throttle down and started to secure his helmet. Not many spacer's bothered with suits anymore, but he'd seen too many escape capsules fail to fly without it. The helmet gave a click, and then he was looking at a heads-up display. The readout was much the same as the one on his viewscreen, but with a few, key differences. In this case, his shields, laser temperature and fuel were the only things he could see on the helmet HUD. Looking back to his screen, and the magnificent view, he braced himself.
Hyperspace in 1s
The jump to hyperspace, and the 'witchspace' tunnels was defined mostly by the queasy sensation, and the blue rings that passed as your ship hurtled dozens of lightyears in a matter of seconds. Then, he was looking at a witchspace beacon. The beacons had been put in place as a sort of 'anchor' for incoming ships. If you jumped into a system, you ended up at the beacon. Edward ran a gloved hand over his scanner and quickly adjusted it as he started to nose his ship upwards from the trade lanes. It was an old trader's trick. By angling yourself away from the lanes, and hitting your Torus engines' you could effectively get out of the trade lanes, and away from most of the dangers inherent to carrying valuable cargo from one system to the other. However, it also meant that the police where nowhere to be found if pirates did happen to find you out on your own. Not that Ararus had much in the way of police in the first place. The system was an anarchy system, and the complete chaos attracted pirates in droves. The only remotely safe place amongst the 'lane was the Seedy Space Bars that also made the dangerous environment their home. Bounty Hunters operated out of these bars, much like the two he had met back on Ensoreous. He reflected briefly on the old man and his elite federation rating before clearing his mind, and engaging his torus drive. The ship lurched forward, and then started to accelerate torwards the black. The torus drive was an ancient design, something that had been invented before the wormholes had been found. You could cross an entire system with engines off in a matter of minutes with the torus drive, however, due to the nature of astrophysics, for whatever reason, if the torus drive detected a big enough object, say a planet or ship, it would be 'mass-locked'.
As the seconds turned to minutes, Edward quickly turned his view-screen to the cargo manifest and made sure he had all 35 tonnes of computers. It had been a good deal if the insect was right. Eighty credits could become two-hundred if he played his cards right. The commodities market was much more stable, and prices didn't fluctuate, but you couldn't make as much cash as the 'undermarkets' of each station. Then again, the comm-market wasn't as dangerous, financially or physically. Who knew what sellers worked with pirates to get back their goods? Shrugging off the thought, Edward pulled up a second screen to the side of the main view-screen, and started to look over the current system prices. If the deal didn't work out, he could still make 101.6 credits on the standard market. He was just beginning to decide what he should buy planet-side when the computer's female voice called out an alarm.
Mass-locked.
Edward cursed as he tapped his ident button and swung the ship around reflexively. The green blips on his scanner where three in number, but it was hard to tell what they where at this distance. Still, he was off the 'lanes, which meant....
A red line of energy lanced past to his left on the view-screen. Cursing again, Edward pushed his ship into a spin, and hit the aft-view screen. He lined up the rear laser's crosshairs with the nearest 'blob' and was awarded with a beep as his identification system had a lock.
Krait:Fugitive:56c
He thumbed the stick and watched as a red beam of light erupted in front of him. The beam laser fired in a continuous streak, and Edward could now see the sleek outlines of the Krait glowing as its shields absorbed the assault. Then, the glowing stopped entirely, the shields had collasped. Reflexively Edward flipped back to the front view and pulled back on the sticks. Throwing the throttle down, he let the krait overshoot him as he 'flipped' his ship onto its back, and then twisted until he was facing in the opposite direction of the Krait. Ahead, he could just make out the fine lines of another Krait, and the triangular shape of a Fer-De-Lance. The Kraits where the lesser of concerns to the pilot. Fer-De-Lance's where expensive, and reknowned for their killing ability. Your standard pirate couldn't afford one in his wildest dreams.
This guy has to be good...
Edward hesitated for a split-second before thumbing a button on his stick just below the laser triggers. The Fer-De-Lance now targeted, he noted that it only had an 'offender' status before tapping the button again. On his viewscreen he saw the missile hurtle at the Fer-De-Lance, which had just hit its witchspace injectors... or in layman's terms boosters. Ignoring the threat for now, Edward turned to face the wounded Krait. While doing so, he left his rear open to the fire of the other Krait. With alarm he noted his aft-shield bar start to drain rapidly. Doing his best to ignore this, he lined up his shot, and squeezed the triggers. His fore laser was military grade, and the Krait's shields evaporated again before he saw big, yellow globules of radiation start to leak from the compromised reactor. Then, a bright flash of light. With no time to celebrate, Edward pushed his ship into a spin while lowering the throttle even further. The gambit didn't work, as the Krait simply slowed down with him, and continued its assault. The ship's voice gave several warnings as Edward tried to take evasive manueveres.
Warning, aft shields failing.
Suddenly a sickening screech filled the young pilot's ears as his ship's hull started to take damage. Edward was practically thrown from his chair as the ship took more damage. his helmet HUD started to flash warnings as he threw the ship into a spin, and pushed the throttle up to 'full'. The sounds and shaking stopped as he twisted his battered ship and let the fore shields start to take some damage. Another loud explosion sounded, and Edward saw rather then felt his helmet crash into the console. Disoriented and confused, the pilot could see the Krait on the viewscreen in front of him. A shaking hand leveled the sticks out... and aimed right for the enemy vessel.
Edward lost all sense of time and orientation as a black mist started to cloud his vision. He was vaguely aware of a loud noise, but it was blocked out as a hissing noise filled his helmet. For a moment, everything was black. Then... a whiteness filled his vision. He realized that he wasn't quite sure what ... 'he' was. An abstract notion created by science and the ever-inflating ego perhaps. Yet, just as he considered this, he realized he could hear a woman's voice.
...failing.
...damaged.
...Contaiment...
...damaged.
...failing.
With a slowness, Edward followed the voice, letting it drag him back into consciousness. For a moment, he simply lay on the floor of the cabin, desperately trying to grasp on to the floor plating. He realized he couldn't see, that his helmet's visor was spiderwebbed with cracks in the plastiglass. Using his elbow, the pilot managed to push himself up enough so that he could reach the console. Rising to his feet was a rather disorienting affair, but one he just managed. Pulling his helmet off, the young man simply took in shuddering breaths as he looked about himself. The front view-screen was completely black. The cabin was dark, and from the looks of it, the pilots' chair had broken from its base. He wasn't sure how he had gotten from the corner to the console again, but judging by the blood streaks on the floor, it looked as if he had crawled.
Blood...
With alarm, Edward looked himself over. It looked as if his chest had been bloodied and the space suit was torn, but it was hard to tell in the darkness. With a grim-satisfaction he realized the suit had administered a rather high dose of pain-killer, an upgrade well worth the credits. The ships' systems where crying out, each one begging for attention from the pilot, but he had bigger concerns. Judging by the blackness of his screen, he could only assume that his front camera had been taken out during his 'ramming' procedure. The aft-camera showed nothing either, probably taken out by the Krait's firing. This left the micro-cameras. Edward reflected with a grimace that he should have left the cobra's original cockpit in. He'd covered it up with plating, reasoning that cameras could do all the seeing that a standard viewport would. In fact most ships didn't even HAVE a cockpit viewport anymore. Camera feeds where the standard for space vessels now. Giving a hearty sigh, the man watched as the micro-camera's started to build a picture. This view as known as 'over the shoulder' it was projected by the hundreds of tiny cameras, and a picture was developed to create a sort of '3rd person view'. What Edward saw made him grimace. His ship normally had a sort of hexagonal shape. It looked like a flattened 'wing' for lack of a better term. Yet now, the infamous shape of the Cobra Mk. III was twisted and bent. His portside wing extension was completely sheared off, and was venting plasma into the void. One of his engines was sputtering and dumping coolant out behind the damaged vessel. The 'nose' of the ship was covered in metal shards and various debris some from the ship iteself, some from his adversary. With a grin, Edward noticed that neither Krait could be seen, and that the Fer-De-Lance was gone as well. In the clear, Edward started to look at the ship diagnostics. He had lost three out of four energy banks, but it looked like they where recharging. The reactor had a crack in the core, and was leaking radiation something fierce. His cargo bay had been sliced up in a manner usually reserved for Orrorian vegetables, and his 35 tonnes of computers had been reduced to a mere 22. His ship's upgrades had faired little better. With growing concern he realized the repair costs where going to be astronomical. His Extra Energy Unit, Witchspace Injectors, Docking Computers, Shield Boosters, Scanner Targetting Enhancement, Bounty Scanner, Fuel Scoop, and ECM had all be damaged beyond usefullness.
For a moment Edward thought about ejecting in his escape pod, and just claming insurance when he got to the station, but... then he'd lose his cargo. With another resigned sigh he considered his options. He could try to make the rest of the trip on a single engine and hope his torus drives wouldn't get locked again... or he could jump out and hope Ensoreous was light on pirates. Maybe there was a third option... Turning on his advanced space compass, the pilot flicked the settings until it was targetting a 'B'.
Any port in a storm...
Slowly, Edward pushed his Cobra mk. III torwards the Loving Feline, a seedy space bar, and the home of every bounty hunter in the system.
