The Starhawk Chronicles Read online

  *

  The hatch slid open, Jesse ducked his head in, wasted all of a second and a half looking around, slipped around the doorframe, sinking into the deepest set of shadows he could find, holding his breath and listening.

  The initial terror he had felt upon his arrival on the ship was gone, replaced more with a sense of impatience. He had made his way through half the ship, inexorably heading in the direction of the bridge, and still no sign of any impending attack. It’s like I’m onboard a ghost ship.

  There was a cross junction at the far end of the corridor. Approaching warily, he saw that the passage to his right was blocked with heavy machinery, and from the way the debris was scattered, there was no way of mistaking the mess for anything but intentional.

  The corridor to the left ended at a set of closed blast doors, larger than most of the others he had passed through. The markings on the wall beside the hatch read Cargo Two.

  All at once, Jesse’s hunting instincts kicked in. In there, he thought. That’s where the attack is going to come from. Swallowing back the sickly feeling rising in his throat, he drew his second pistol and pressed for the door release.

  The cargo bay that lay beyond the hatch was dimly lit. Stacks of packing crates rose before him in staggered piles, creating a maze through the large storage area. Jesse’s senses were practically screaming at him. No doubt about it. Any second the attack will come. But from where?

  “Welcome Forster!” Rahk’s voice booming from somewhere deep within caused him to jump. He cursed himself for being startled so easily, like a child afraid of the dark.

  “So glad you decided to accept my invitation,” Rahk continued. From what Jesse could determine, the Kleezha was definitely somewhere inside with him, and not just piping his voice through the ship’s internal communications net. He could not determine the direction the voice was coming from. The acoustics caused sounds to bounce all over. “Since you kept your word, I have decided to keep mine as well. I will allow your ship and crew to survive. This duel does not concern them. It is between you and me alone.”

  “So why don’t you show yourself?” Jesse shouted into the darkness. “Are you so afraid of me that you have to hide in the dark?”

  “As you have done for most of your trek through my ship?” Rahk gave a mirthless laugh that echoed throughout the chamber, rippling the hair on the back of Jesse’s neck. “You speak to me of courage, while you slip from shadow to shadow in your vain attempt at stealth. I have watched you from the moment you stepped into the pod. You have been sweating like a nervous schoolboy the entire time.”

  Nervous schoolboy, my ass, Jesse made a quick check of his weapons power settings. Nothing less than a full power blast would even slow an angered Kleezha. Closing his eyes, letting his breathing even out, he focused everything on listening. Not to the words, but on trying to determine the direction from which they came.

  Rahk continued. “You have nothing to fear, you know. I will make sure that your death at my hands will be an honorable one. You have been a worthy adversary throughout this entire affair. You are the single greatest opponent I have ever faced. It has been an honor to test myself against you.”

  Then Jesse heard it, the barely audible squeal of metal against metal. Rahk’s cybernetic arm! The sound was followed by the soft click of a weapon being taken off safety, coming from above and to the left of Jesse.

  Reacting with instinctive swiftness, Jesse spun, firing both weapons even as a powerful laser blast burned past, bare centimeters from his head, to impact the crate beside him. As he fired, Jesse was in motion, dodging into the next alcove that would afford him even a few seconds more protection.

  He could hear Rahk’s heavy footfalls as the beast jumped from the top of one stack of shipping cartons to the next, coming ever nearer. Jesse kept moving, ducking between crates packed so closely together that had he been a few pounds heavier, he would have been trapped between them.

  As he exited the crevice, Jesse spied a series of crates stacked in a staircase fashion. So that’s how the bastard got up there. Sprinting across the few open yards between his position and the makeshift staircase, he leapt atop the first, pulling himself atop the second, higher stack. At the top of that, he squatted low, weapons ready, listening.

  Rahk’s footsteps had slowed. Jesse could hear his heavy breath. Clearly, the Kleezha had not seen him duck up here and was wondering where his opponent was. Jesse fought to calm his own labored breathing, lest he give his position away.

  Rahk’s steps were getting closer. Risking a glance, Jesse poked his head up enough to look over the crate he was using for cover. The Kleezha had stopped several yards away and was listening for any telltale sounds. Jesse had but one chance.

  He stood quickly and fired a volley of shots from both pistols. One went wide, but the other struck the creature squarely in the chest. Rahk’s body armor absorbed most of the damage, but the blast was powerful enough to stagger him. As he stumbled backwards, Rahk fired several shots from the heavy carbine rifle he was carrying. Jesse ducked , leaping from his perch.

  He landed heavily, one of his ankles buckling under the impact. With a grunt, he struggled to get under cover before Rahk recovered enough and opened fire again. He was just rounding a corner when a blast shattered the shipping container next to him. The concussion sent Jesse sliding across the deckplates.

  He shook off the effects of the blast and looked around, realizing he was boxed in. He was up against the bulkhead, with two tall rows of containers on either side of him. The only way out was the way he had come and Rahk was almost certain to show his ugly head around the corner any moment.

  He got to his feet, hissing as sharp needles of pain shot through his ankle. Just behind him, against the wall, sat a wheeled cargo cart, the dust and cobwebs covering it confirming that it had been out of use for some time. Jesse suspected that perhaps not everything in this cargo bay had seen use, forgotten in the shuffle of the ship’s ownership.

  He turned, his eyes falling on the crate that had been blasted open. One undamaged side was marked C-41 jet belts. Limping over and pulling away some of the shattered packing material, Jesse confirmed that the crate indeed held about a half-dozen of the units, far smaller jet packs than the combat unit they kept aboard the Starhawk. Most showed damage, but one still looked operable.

  Heavy footsteps told him that Rahk was on his way, but the slow treading said that the Kleezha was taking his time. He knows I’ve got nowhere to run to.

  Jesse looked back at the cart, lying unused in the corner, an idea springing to mind. He dug through the crate, pulling out the undamaged jet belt and hoping that these C-41’s were the type with wireless handheld controls. They were.

  He had only seconds, and set about with his plan. What he was about to try required split-second timing. If it worked, he might well kill Rahk outright. If not, well, I don’t have much to lose anyway.

  Rahk took his time climbing down from atop the stacked crates after firing on Forster. He knew that where Forster had run was a dead end, and there were no crawlspaces, no air vents, through which Forster could worm his way out.

  Rahk was a bit disappointed, having thought that the duel between them would take a bit longer than this. Nevertheless, he had to take Forster down when he had the opportunity. He was far too dangerous an opponent to give a second chance.

  Turning the corner, he found Forster standing there, arms behind his head in defeat, his legs spread curiously far apart. His weapons were holstered, but Rahk knew that no matter how quick a draw Forster was, he would not dare to try to pull them free while having a weapon trained on him.

  Forster looked up at him, sagging in his stance a bit. “Looks like you got me,” he said. “I guess the best man wins.”

  His posture was that of a beaten man, but there was a cockiness to his voice that gave Rahk an uneasy feeling. He felt it would be best not to drag this out any longer. He brought his weapon up.

  Forster’s right arm
twitched ever so slightly, followed by a barely audible click. A heartbeat later, a roar that shook the deckplates filled the bay. Rahk started to squeeze the trigger, just as Forster leapt to one side. Rahk had just enough time to see the rigged cargo cart coming at him, a jet belt strapped to its flatbed, before the whole contraption slammed into him at full force. The blow would have been lethal, had he not, at the last moment, let his body go limp. He fell onto his back, the cart rolling over him, instead of carrying him with it until it slammed into the far wall and exploded.

  Despite the near miss, the impact still hurt like five hells, knocking the breath from Rahk’s lungs. He lay on the deck, struggling to take in a breath. He could hear the sound of running footsteps, and the hiss of a hatch opening and closing.

  Rahk sat up, pain coursing through every inch of his body. Broken ribs for certain, possibly even worse damage, but for now, he was alive. Alive and angry.

  He had been foolish for going so easy on Forster. He should have gunned him down the second he had stepped into the cargo hold, but Rahk had wanted to prolong the game.

  It was time now for that game to end.

  Rahk got to his feet, rage clouding whatever pain he felt. He would hunt Forster down and first maim him, strip away any chance at retaliation. Then using his knife, and perhaps, his claws, he would, ever so slowly, strip the flesh from Forster’s bones, savoring the delicious taste as he devoured it. Then he would rip his limbs from his body, reveling in the sweet music of Forster’s screams of agony.

  Then, when all the playing was over, Jesse Forster would die.

  *

  Kayla stepped through the hatch into yet another deserted corridor.

  She was annoyed, thinking that she had maybe gone in circles aboard the ship while searching for Jesse. Damn ship isn’t all that big, she cursed as she paused and tried to get her bearings. On most ships this size or larger, there were computer terminals at the corridor junctions that could help direct the misguided, as getting lost aboard big ships was a common occurrence. Of course, with the Nexus Gang in control of the ship, all those terminals had been ripped from the walls, smashed in, or used for target practice.

  The condition of the terminals mattered little anyway. Kayla was certain that if she accessed any of them, she would set off alarms all over the ship.

  She was about to turn back and try retracing her steps when she heard the distant sound of laser fire. She started to run in the direction it had come from, when a crash and explosion sounded, and the ship was still again.

  At the end of the corridor, she passed through a doorway that was slightly ajar, and stepped into the ship’s mess hall. There were only two working light panels recessed into the ceiling; the rest damaged beyond repair. In the dim light, the tables and chairs strewn about looked like phantasms from some prehistoric era, ready to strike at her.

  Kayla chided herself for letting childish fears get hold of her, even for a second. Without giving her fears another thought, she pressed onward to the galley, where she could already see that the lighting was in much better repair.

  A few steps from the door, she paused. She thought she heard the faintest scratch, scratch, like something scraping across the deckplates nearby. She held still, not even breathing, listening for the sound again.

  Scratch, scratch. Closer this time. Very close.

  She whirled around, dropping to her knees at the same time. Had she not, she would have been decapitated as the jagged-clawed forearm of the Mantilorian swept through the open air where her neck had just been. She threw herself sideways just as the insectoid stabbed downward at her. The fore claw ripped through the sleeve of her tunic, drawing blood.

  Tesk swiveled to face Kayla, compound eyes focusing on her as she rose to her feet. “Master Rahk said for Forster to be unharmed,” he buzzed. “Master Rahk said nothing about stowaways.”

  Kayla pulled her taser staff from its sheath, extending it and charging the weapon at the same time. “Well, come on, Bug Boy,” she taunted. “I’m up to a little bug squashing.”

  Tesk gave a wheezing sound and charged at her, clawed forearms extended to their full lengths, swinging them at her like a pair of scimitars. Kayla used her staff to deflect the strikes, amazed at the speed with which the Mantilorian could move.

  She ducked, sweeping her staff around until she caught Tesk under the legs and toppled him. Tesk grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it at her. It caught her in the side, the impact enough to knock the staff from her hands. The weapon skittered across the floor where it came to a stop beneath a mound of chairs and tables piled haphazardly in one corner.

  Tesk hopped back to his feet, swinging an arm at Kayla as he rose, hoping to topple her in the same way she had done to him. Kayla leapt over the swipe, ducking as she came down to avoid the one aimed at her head. Tesk came at her again swinging both claws wildly, forcing her to somersault backwards. She could feel the wind stirred by the claws passing so close to her back as she tumbled. When she landed back on her feet, she found herself up against the wall.

  Ducking to avoid another decapitating swipe, Kayla grabbed at a metal chair lying by her side. She held it up just in time to deflect another blow, but the force behind Tesk’s attack was so great as to completely cleave the metal seat in half.

  Cornered and desperate, Kayla stabbed at the Mantilorian’s thorax as Tesk raised both claws for what he thought was the killing strike. The leg of the chair punctured the insectoid’s thorax with a sickening crunch, and green-black blood began to seep from the wound. Shrieking in such a high pitch that it hurt Kayla’s ears, Tesk staggered backwards, arms flailing in painful, spasmodic jerks.

  Kayla knew the blow was not mortal. With Tesk flailing about, she scrambled across the floor, sliding part of the way, to where her taser staff had come to rest. Only the very end of the weapon was visible under the pile of mess hall furniture. Flattening herself as best as she could, she stretched her arm under the pile, fingers grasping for the weapon.

  Across the room, Tesk had managed to remove the offending chair leg, and turned to glare at her with his dark, mirrored eyes. Like a butcher sharpening his knives, Tesk swiped his claws against each other several times, stalking toward her.

  Stretching her body more than she had thought possible, Kayla managed to get two fingers on her staff and slowly began pulling the weapon free. Once she was able to get her hand around it, it came faster.

  She heard Tesk’s footsteps behind her; the sound of furniture being shoved out of the way. She got a good hold on her staff now, and switched its power on. Rolling onto her back, Kayla hurled the staff like a spear at the advancing Mantilorian. The weapon struck the insectoid in almost the exact spot where she had stabbed him previously, its momentum carrying it all the way through Tesk’s body and out through his back.

  The Mantilorian shrieked and thrashed about even more violently, knocking chairs and tables out of its way in its death throes. With one last squeal, Tesk collapsed to the deck, green-black blood oozing from the cavity in its thorax, claws twitching spasmodically in death.

  Kayla stood over the body for a moment, kicked it once for good measure to make sure that the Mantilorian was not faking its death. Satisfied, she recovered her staff, pausing to catch her breath. “Combat is not his area of expertise, eh?” she panted. “Rahk, you ass.”

  She retrieved the DNA template needed to claim the bounty on Tesk, and burned the body. Then she pressed on in her search for Forster.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As far as Jesse was concerned, things were not good.

  Leaning against a bulkhead, catching his breath, he tried to ignore the pain shooting through his ankle. His little trick in the cargo bay had worked, but not as well as he had hoped. From the angry roaring he heard, it was obvious Rahk was no longer in a good humor. To top things off, he had lost one of his pistols in the fracas.

  Stealing a look around the corner, he jerked back an instant before laser fire burned several holes in the
wall, sending flaming splinters flying. Jesse reached around the corner, blindly firing several bursts from his remaining pistol, but knew that he had not hit anything. He turned and ran further down the corridor, passing through a blast door in the process.

  He stopped when he realized he had nowhere else to run. He had ended up on the bridge. Lit only by the ship’s control boards, the room appeared eerily serene. Aside from the hatch he had just entered through, there was no other way in or out. That being the case, his spirits lifted slightly. One way in for him meant only one for Rahk as well. He had only to find a suitable spot for cover and wait for Rahk to come through the door, opening fire with everything he had.

  He decided the best place to fire from would be over the back of the command seat, which lay in a straight line in front of the hatchway. Jesse could hunker down in the chair, then fire around or over it when the door opened. He need only wait.

  In the relative quiet of the bridge, Jesse could hear the roar of blood rushing through his veins in his ears. His heart was pounding harder than it had on his approach to Malcontent. If Rahk doesn’t show up soon, he thought, he won’t have to kill me. I’ll be dead from a heart attack.

  Minutes passed. Rahk had not been that far behind him in the corridor before he had ducked in here. He should have been outside the door by now. What the hell is taking him so long? What is he waiting for?

  The only warning Jesse had was the groaning of stressed metal seconds before the ventilation shaft overhead exploded inward, and Rahk came crashing down through the ceiling an arms length from Jesse’s position, roaring a battle cry at the top of his lungs.

  Jesse spun to bring his weapon to bear, but the Kleezha had the element of surprise. He backhanded Jesse with such force it sent Jesse falling out of the chair. He lost his grip on his gun, watching it slide across the floor out of reach. Jesse dove, hoping to slide after it, but Rahk caught him in mid-flight with a kick that altered his trajectory. He slammed hard into a bulkhead, nearly blacking out with the impact.