The Starhawk Chronicles: Rest and Wreck-reation Read online

  “I welcome this huge one,” the Raakshasi mewed, baring her fangs and gave a soft purr, her tail flicking seductively.

  Morogo looked about as uncomfortable as Kym had ever seen him, and it was difficult for her to not laugh. The Vor’na’ cik looked to her for help, and with none forthcoming, looked over at Rhasti with a look that cried help.

  The Mandasi made no attempt to hide his amusement. Through a wide smile he said, “Back off, Vixta.”

  The Raakshasi made like she had not heard for several long seconds before giving a sigh and moving past Morogo, continuing to flick her tail in his direction. The Vor’na’cik relaxed visibly. At his side, Godfrey gave a chuckle. “Hey, better you than me,” he said.

  “If we can get back to the matter at hand,” Rhasti said, as Vixta took her place across the room. “We need a plan of action, and if what you’re telling me about your two friends is true, we need one quick. It sounds like they’d be likely to start some trouble either with help or on their own. Myself, I’d prefer they do it with our help.”

  “Agreed,” Kym said, grabbing one of the chairs, turning it around, and straddling it, resting her arms across the back. “Jesse and K’Tran will wait for the first opportunity they get to break out of there, and they’ll take as many prisoners with them as possible, but we need to make sure they’re not alone so they have the best possible chance of getting out in one piece. We have a day or two at the most. I guarantee it.”

  “Not an ideal timetable, but I think we can pull it off,” Rhasti replied. He grabbed a datapad from the table and began punching in commands. A projector overhead threw out a three dimensional representation of Valhalla City across the tabletop. “Aside from the mine, we’ve got two other targets of interest. Nothing else in the city is a valuable target, and we want to keep civilians out of it as much as possible. We’re freedom fighters, not terrorists. No one on the outside is going to listen to us if some off-world family accidentally gets nuked.”

  Two structures on the holo lit up red while the rest remained blue. Podo leaned in close, pointing out one of the two buildings. “The sports arena?”

  Rhasti nodded. “Also doubles as an armory, in the underground areas that tourists don’t see. There’s enough weaponry held down there to hold off an invading army. We get to it before Boke’s goons can, and we’ll be more than a match for anyone he’s got in the city or the mines.”

  “How many people do you have?” Podo asked.

  Rhasti smiled. “Enough. Not trained fighters, mind you, but every one of us has been mistreated by Boke and his lackeys, or knows someone sent to mines because of them. Not every one of them down in that hellhole is an angel, but there are plenty that don’t deserve to be there. Anyone who sends children to work in those mines deserves to be sent on the short ride to Hell.”

  Kym pointed to the other highlighted structure. “Communications center?”

  “Main communications center. We get our hands on that, and we’ve got a better than average chance of finally getting our word out to the rest of the galaxy. Shouldn’t be too hard of a target to take, especially after we get our hands on that armory.”

  During the conversation, no one had noticed that Bokschh had taken a datapad off of the table and had plugged into it. Now he spoke up. “There is another factor to be considered.” He reached for the holo-controls, looking at Rhasti first. “With your permission?”

  Rhasti nodded consent, and Bokschh switched the view. An image of the spacelanes encircling the planet materialized in place of the city schematic. Bokschh increased the magnification until the image became that of a single ship in parking orbit.

  “Galadorn-class light cruiser. Harkonian war surplus,” Mynx made the identification, sounding slightly embarrassed at the association with her people.

  “I made note of its presence when we were held up in orbit prior to our being permitted to land,” the drone continued. “It was not a part of the regular traffic pattern. I assumed that it was part of the planetary security force. Based on the files I have just accessed, it appears that I was correct. Aside from having an extra security contingent aboard, this ship may act as a communications buffer between the planet and the rest of the galaxy. Any messages sent from the surface must filter through this ship. This is most likely the reason why any messages you sent have not been received by anyone outside the system.”

  Rhasti stared long and hard at the Galadorn, scratching behind his ear. “So we have to take out that cruiser before any message can get out. This complicates things.”

  “Not necessarily,” Kym said. “Our ship’s got more than enough firepower to disable that.”

  “I’ve seen your ship,” Mynx scoffed. “I’d be surprised if it could get off the ground.”

  Kym locked eyes with the Harkonian woman, rising slowly from her seat. “She may not look like much, but she’s got it where it counts.” She smiled sweetly. “She’ll surprise you.”

  Mynx held her gaze, leaning slightly across the table. For a moment, Kym thought she would lash out and strike her, but Rhasti cut in. “Mynx, why don’t you go out to command and put out the call?”

  “The call?” she questioned, uncertainty in her eyes.

  Rhasti nodded. “It’s time. I want as many of our people here as soon as possible.”

  Mynx looked like she wanted to debate further, then paused, a resolved look crossing her face. She nodded, and strode out of the room.

  Rhasti turned back to Kym, favoring her with a more genuine smile than he had when they first met. “We have a general plan in place. I think this can work. Now we need to hash out the details. And we’ll get word to your friends. We have people in the mines.”

  He began handing down orders to some of the others in his command, making requests of Bokschh to download certain specifics of Boke’s security protocols. Kym turned to look at her friends. Both Podo and Morogo gave her small, knowing smiles, then turned to the data that Bokschh was already providing on the holo. She smiled herself. Hang on, guys, she sent out to Jesse and K’Tran, hoping somehow that they were still alive. We’re coming for you.

  ***

  Jesse ached. Every square centimeter of his body protested even the slightest movement, but he kept on moving. He knew that in this weakened condition, he was even more of a target for the more sadistic guards, despite Scarab’s specific warning to leave him alone. All they need is an excuse—any excuse—and they’ll be happy to make an example of me. Don’t need that now.

  At his side in the line for their food break, K’Tran looked even worse. Scarab had decided that since they had known each other on a more personal level, K’Tran deserved more of his attention. He had been returned to the population before the start of the work shift, and had only been able to stand unassisted mere minutes ago.

  They passed through the line, each receiving a bowl of green-brown, foul-smelling slop and a chunk of what passed for bread, and found a spot along the wall to sit, keeping Raychel and the Kleezha woman, Salga, in close proximity.

  Jesse spooned through his bowl, not at all anxious to eat this gruel. K’Tran abandoned his bowl to one side, ripped a chunk of bread off with his teeth, and chewed slowly, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the rock of the wall.

  Another man came over and sat on Jesse’s opposite side with an exaggerated grunt, staring intently into his own bowl of slop. “Not a color you often find in food, I’ll grant you that.” He said.

  Jesse gave him a curt nod, not feeling conversational at the moment, continuing to stir his food. The newcomer kept on. “My old lady used to make something similar to this. Probably one of the reasons I left her on Balthazaar.’

  Jesse gave the man a quick look. He was older than either him or K’Tran, with messy, sandy brown hair, several missing teeth, and what looked to be an artificial eye. His clothes were rags that hung loosely on his body, but there was something about him that didn’t quite fit the image of one who had been in the mines for a long sp
an of time. Jesse’s warning senses began to go off, until the man leaned in closer, and spoke next in a conspiratorial whisper. “Podo sends his regards.”

  Jesse’s head whipped around to look at him more directly. “What did you say?”

  He said it louder than he had meant to, drawing stares from the others seated around, and stopping one passing guard in his tracks. Jesse looked back to his bowl, quickly spooning a stomach-churning gob into his mouth and staring at the dirt until the guard passed on.

  The newcomer shot him a glare with his one good eye. “You’d better be more discrete, friend, or it could be a bad outcome for us all,” he whispered again.

  Jesse glanced around. Everyone else seemed to go back to what they were doing, but he could see from the corner of his eye that K’Tran had taken notice, sitting up a bit straighter, but continuing to keep his eyes shut. Jesse spit the food back into his bowl. Sensing a trick, he asked, “Who’s Podo?”

  The newbie turned back to stare into his food. “He said you still owe him a Goortberry Fizz for catching the most fish when your old man took you out on the Calamir River.”

  He does know Podo, or is in contact with him at least! No one else would know about that old bet we made as kids. From beside him, K’Tran said, just loud enough to be heard “We’re listening.”

  The out-of-place man put down his bowl and imitated K’Tran’s posture. “Name’s Driggers. Been told to tell you that things are in motion. The rest of your friends are safe and are with my people.”

  “And who are your people?”

  He lowered his voice so much that even listening intently, Jesse barely heard him say “Utopian Liberation Movement, ” He paused as another guard strolled past, waiting until he was well clear. “Those of us who want to take the planet back from Boke and stick his fat, lumbering ass down here for the rest of forever.”

  “Got to move on. Can’t stay in one spot too long,” Driggers stood, casting a quick glance in both directions. “My people said to be ready. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do.”

  There was a sudden commotion from the other end of the cavern. Jesse struggled to his feet, then helped K’Tran up as well. A trio of guards were carrying someone, but in the confusion, Jesse could not make out who. Turning back, he noticed that Driggers was nowhere to be seen.

  Raychel’s sudden cry brought his attention back to the guards. Thinking they had hurt her, he turned, ready for a fight. Instead she was kneeling next to the prone form of the one they had carried in. As quickly as his aching body would allow, he rushed to Raychel’s side.

  “Kebbe,” she was shouting. “Kebbe, can you hear me?”

  Salga helped turn the body over. It looked to be a young boy in his late teens. He was bloody and bruised, with one eye swollen shut and the other little more than a slit. He was alive, barely. His breathing was weak and labored.

  “Who’s this?” Jesse asked as he approached.

  Raychel’s voice was near-panicked. “This is Kebbe. He was the one who escaped with me the first time. I hadn’t heard anything more about him since we parted, so I thought he got away clean.” She gave him a violent shake. “Kebbe! Can you hear me?”

  Slowly, he raised a hand, index finger pointed skyward. His voice was strained as he said, “Now Raychel, there is no need to shout.”

  “I’ll get some bandages,” Salga said, disappearing into the crowd.

  Raychel cradled the boy’s head in her lap and wiped away blood that had caked over one eye. Despite his injuries, he seemed to relax at her touch. Jesse leaned over him. “What happened to you, kid?”

  Kebbe turned his head just enough to look at him with his one good eye, then shot Raychel a questioning look. “It’s all right. He’s a friend,” With a smirk towards Jesse, she added, “He’s the reason I’m back in here.”

  “Some friend”

  “Long story,” she answered. “What happened?”

  Salga returned at that moment, with a bucket of water and some bandages. Helping him sit up so he could take a drink, they waited for him to compose himself before speaking. “Almost made it off of this rock,” he said, his voice sounding a touch stronger. “Got to the spaceport and even made it on board one of those robot supply shuttles,” He paused to catch his breath and take another sip of water. “Would have made it too, except for a random customs inspection at the last minute.

  Salga took one of the bandages, wet it, and began dabbing gently at a cut on his face. He winced, then looked up at Raychel. “I guess you didn’t get to kill Boke.

  “Not yet,” she replied softly, stroking his cheek. “But it’s coming.”

  “We should let him rest, and give me a chance to tend to some of his wounds,” said Salga.

  Jesse nodded and rose, walking a short distance away with K’Tran. Raychel stayed behind, continuing to try and comfort her friend.

  Jesse could see that his friend was barely containing the same rage he felt inside. “A kid! They beat the crap out of a kid,” K’Tran’s voice came out as a hiss. “He’s—what? Seventeen maybe? And a civilian! Kid’s lucky to be alive and for what? Wanting to get off of this hellhole? I don’t care what crime he might have committed to get himself sentenced here, no kid deserves—”

  He stopped short, unable to vocalize his outrage any longer. Turning, he walked off a few paces, kicking at loose piles of gravel lying about.

  After a few moments, Salga approached, having wrapped up Kebbe’s wounds as best she could. Her toothy, wolfish face was twisted with the same angst K’Tran had shown. “I’ve done my best for his external injuries,” she spoke softly. “His internal ones, however—I can’t tell what may be damaged inside, or the extent. It may be he will pull through, or—” Her voice trailed again, and when she raised her head, Jesse could see tears welling in her reddish eyes.

  “The first thing I do when we get out of here,” K’Tran growled, still fuming. “Is cut off that sonofabitch Scarab’s head and deliver it to Boke in a burlap sack.”

  “Well you better start looking for one,” Jesse answered. “Because I promise you that by this time tomorrow we’ll be out of here. I guarantee it.”

  “You think Driggers’ friends can come through that quickly?” K’Tran asked.

  “Doesn’t matter if they’re ready or not,” Jesse pointed to where Raychel and Kebbe still lay huddled on the floor. “That kid won’t make it another day past that if we wait any longer. I suspect none of us will.”

  He drew in a deep breath, his lungs filling with the scent of earth, ozone, and death, and his soul filled with an icy resolve.

  “Come tomorrow, we’re leaving here. You, me, those kids—every damn one of us in this wretched hole in the ground are leaving here. And if anyone tries stopping us, we’ll bury them here.”

  ***

  Despite his fatigue, sleep eluded Jesse that night. He lay awake on what approximated for his bunk, listening to the night sounds of the caverns around them. On the bunk above him, K’Tran was snoring lightly. A child a few bunks over whimpered in its sleep. The sound of rodent claws scrabbling across loose rock came from somewhere nearby.

  He wished he could have had more time to talk to Driggers. The man had been too cryptic and had not been seen since that initial encounter. Not even sure if he was for real or not. Some nut, perhaps, gone mad from too much time underground.

  His thoughts turned to his crew. Had they been captured as well, or were they out there now, looking for answers as to what had happened to them? He was sure it was the latter. Podo and the others would turn the planet upside-down looking for them. It was only a matter of time before they would be knocking at the entrance to the mine.

  But would that be soon enough?

  He thought about the events earlier that day. Raychel’s friend Kebbe had not made any improvements, and indeed, seemed to be worse off by the time sleep cycle had started. At least he seemed to be sleeping comfortably. One of the other miners had offered up his bunk to the boy, and Salga now
slept on the ground at his side, should he need her medical aid during the night.

  His own body ached, but he took the pains in stride. Between the abuse of the guards, who now seemed particularly emboldened since Scarab’s interrogation, and the intensity of the work, there was not an inch of him that was not sore. Still he knew he had no right to complain. Others had been stuck in this pit for years, and their bodies showed it. Men and women younger than he was looked to be decades older from the strain their bodies suffered.

  Most disturbing were the children, none of which deserved to pay for the crimes of their parents, perceived or otherwise. Their gaunt, lanky frames reminded Jesse of Tolkien’s Gollum, and their sunken eyes were devoid of any child-like hope or joy. The thing he feared most was how many of them would be injured, or worse, during their escape attempt.

  Escape attempt. The particulars of that still eluded him. He wished he could get word to Kym or Podo, and find out what was going on in the world outside, to try and verify Driggers’ claim of a movement out there that was working to free them. They could make it all the way out of the mines, only to find a full security force ready to send them right back in.

  The guards were overconfident, and for the most part, stupid. Jesse knew that would be their greatest advantage at getting out of there. The disadvantage being that the guards were armed and the prisoners were not. Getting those arms away from the guards was the biggest hurdle, and the solution was refusing to present itself.

  Jesse shifted to a less-uncomfortable position on his bunk, trying not so much to go to sleep as trying not to be awake.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kym had to admit that she was impressed. What they may have lacked in other areas, the rebels made up for with efficiency. Within an hour of Rhasti’s summons, dozens of beings of all types—mostly cell leaders—had converged upon his headquarters to cram into the conference room to hear the plan.

  “Timing is critical,” the Mandasi was saying as he paced back and forth at the front of the room standing behind the hologram of the city with its blue and red graphics depicting targets and non-essential buildings. “Once Boke’s people find out what we’re ultimately attempting, they will mobilize quickly and if we’re not ready, we’ll be cut to pieces. This is why we’re going to strike at multiple points at the same time.”