Hello readers!
This is cut from our main fiction project, a book for which we don't have a title yet. This is the 4th chapter, and we're pretty happy with it so far. Please share your thoughts by commenting! We really like the feedback, and you can help us make the story better! So please speak up!
Anyway, Hawk and and Keeva only recently met, and they are not from the same colony, not at all. Hawk is from Gliese, the oldest human colony, and it was founded by some very dedicated research scientists. The culture there is very open and pragmatic. Also, the gravity is rather high, so our good ship's captain is stronger than most Earth folk, though not used to the outdoors as Gliese is a frozen ball of ice.
They are on their way to Michi Gami, a new and under-serviced colony, looking to sell vapor collectors at a hefty mark up, and Keeva is getting a tour of the ship. The hangar is off limits to the ship's passengers.
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“So how you getting along with Jimmy?” he asked, the contempt leaking into his voice seemingly of its own volition. Fuck! he thought to himself. Yup, that’s jealousy alright.
Keeva glanced over at him, her face registering a small amount of surprise. 'Is that jealousy I hear?' she mused. This time she was mentally laughing AND hugging herself, but judging by the look on his face she had to tread carefully. Jim was an interesting diversion and clearly had information she could use, but Hawk was the reason she was here in the first place, the reason she’d finally left the Rok and put her past on hold. She wanted him around and she wanted him interested, not angry.
“Oh, he’s alright, I guess…for a kid who I caught trying to hack into your shuttle bay.” She’d pegged Hawk for someone who reads people pretty well, so she knew this nugget of info she was tossing his way could be old news to the captain, but she’d also guessed he’d take it for what it was: an expression of interest.
“Was he now? It’s rude to go peeking behind locked doors in ‘nother man’s home…” Hawk gave her a little smile. “Too bad for him these old locks use different software than newer ones.” Hawk seemed unfazed enough that Keeva guessed that she was right in her assumptions, and Hawk already knew something.
Hawk was keeping a tight grip on his emotions, as tight a grip as he could. That little shit was sneaking around, who knows what he’s looking for, but aboard Mike Tyson, there’s plenty to find. The shuttle bay was the least of all his worries on that score. ‘Later,’ he thought.
“Wanna see why I keep the door locked?” Hawk gave the lady a knowing wink, as he led her down the spinal corridor, out of sight of the common area. She had to admit, she was curious, and though Hawk seemed genuinely irritated it was just for the shortest of moments.
“I was a pilot,” he continued hesitantly, “for the United Nations Colonial Navy. I was pretty good, they said. Too good to do what I wanted. They had me set on a course for drivin’ space fighters.” Hawk shook his head, a look of frustrated nostalgia coming over him as they rode the lift up to the shuttle bay.
“Thing is, it ain’t like the entertainment sims, it’s boring. All you do is drift towards a target, and hope your stealth systems don’t fail. When you get close, or think you’ve been spotted, ya rush in, drop your sharks, and cut ‘em up with your laser until you get tagged by point defense, or your sharks hit something, and you run away back home.”
Keeva laughed a bit. “It sounds like the sims, to me,” she tried politely. The lift stopped, and they headed into the large bay, meant to house any number of different shuttle types. It was divided into four sections, each with an airlock. The bay was old style, which meant that there was a lot of open space and equipment to refuel and repair smaller craft. The two aft bays were empty, but the lights were still dim in the forward bays which were clearly linked to motion sensors. They kept walking forward as Hawk continued.
“Except for the really boring, slow ride in to the target, and the really boring ride home, and the part where you program the ship to do everything ‘cause you’re too far away to actually see the bad guys.”
“Sides, there aren't wars any more, right?” Hawk smiled. “A man like me, he needs to feel himself flying. I wanted to be a surface fighter pilot, or an STO driver; a job where I’d be out doing work, instead of sitting in a sim pod, playing with myself and pretending to be a combat pilot.”
Keeva smirked at that, desperately wanting to make a smart-ass remark, but she stowed it in favor of letting Hawk continue his narrative. Everything he was saying confirmed what little she knew of him.
“I got washed out. They wouldn't let me re-up unless I stayed on fighters, and I was not gonna have it. I wanted the rush of STO flight, the feel of defeating gravity, and to actually fly. That’s why I got HER,” Hawk finished grandly, as he gestured to the shuttle lurking in the starboard hangar area.
He had timed it well, the lights flicked on just as he raised his hand to wave at the ship. Keeva had seen a fair number of zero gravity shuttles, as well as countless versions of the Spencer, the most common STO shuttle in the UN, but the beast crouched in the starboard bay was none of those things. It was long, sleek and aggressive, something she had only seen before in sims. The shuttle in front of her was all engine with a long tail, plus two massive air breathers and Stubby wings that seemed like an afterthought. Brutally efficient. 'No way,' she thought.
“AL-356-Model 2 HOTBOX surface to orbit shuttle. I call her 'Maybelle.'” Hawk beamed at his baby, showing more than a sprinkle of pride in the New Prussian combat shuttle he had parked in his hanger bay. “She’s nearly twice as fast as a Spencer and a helluva lot more maneuverable. She’ll break orbit in vertical flight, if you open the throttle all the way, but that will trash the local environment." He grinned as he turned back towards her. "Her gravity compensators make it so even a low-grav softies like yourself can ride her at full speed without gettin' killed. She’s also got better protection than the Orion Governor…not to mention she’s awful pretty.”
Keeva was suitably impressed, and Hawk’s obvious delight in his shuttle was infectious, but she couldn't resist ribbing him a bit on that last remark. “Pretty, huh? Pretty holey from the looks of her. She’s got more marks from AA fire than a veteran combat cruiser.”
“‘She may not look like much, but she’s got it where it counts, kid,’” Hawk quoted and quipped.
She threw her head back and laughed freely. “Is that right, Han? I mean Hawk,” she teased with a smile. “I like the pin-up girl on the intake,” Keeva said as she pointed out the slightly scorched dark-haired woman painted under the forward wing. “Looks like you have a type….” she trailed off playfully.
“Well, what if I do? Not my fault you look like her,” he smiled. “Every good fighter is named after a cantankerous bitch or a pretty lady. That lady was both.” He looked at the picture up and down. “You’re right though; I gotta get Willy up here to patch her up some more. Bought some replacement parts back on the Rok.”
He scratched the back of his neck, and looked over the ship a moment, delaying the inevitable. Hawk was a bit uncertain of how to phrase the next question, but he decided it would be best just to plow ahead.
“So that’s me, a combat pilot turned hauler, looking for a good rush.” He sighed and walked towards a collection of crates, strapped down with cargo netting. “So, what have you got under the hood?” He had a sexy grin, but a harder cast to his eyes.
“You wanna see it again?” she asked coyly as he leaned against a rolling tool cabinet. She made as if to play with the seal on her ship suit. Hawk smiled for a moment, but Keeva knew it was not a show he was looking for.
“How is it that a slender lady like your own self can take down a trained, mod’d body guard in hand to hand combat? I know you’re strong, and how.” He was still smiling, but it was clear that this was a business smile, and Keeva knew he really wanted some answers. “That boy you broke? At the very least he had wired reflexes and a pain editor. I was gonna die for sure, ‘til you fixed him. He was too fast for me.” Hawk softened just a bit. “Thank you for that, by the way. I owe you one.” He gave her a half grin, which she returned, their ‘thing’ of quoting Star Wars together showing no signs of getting old. Clearing his throat and letting the smile of camaraderie drop from his face, he began again. “Still, I gotta know who you are if you’re gonna ride on my ship.”
Hawk saw Keeva tense up and kicked a rolling work stool her direction, his way of proffering her a chair and the only thing he could think of to keep her from bolting. He sat down himself, waiting for her to begin, or run. Her past was obviously a touchy subject to say the least, and he didn’t want to push her too fast, but regardless, he had to know.
Keeva slowly took a seat, her mind in turmoil. No point in running when stuck in space, and not many men would offer a dock side hooker a front seat into their life and livelihood; Hawk must have some semblance of an open mind. On the other hand, he was UN military. The UN was not known for its social tolerance.
She chewed the corner of her lip as she filtered through her thoughts, her black eyes reflecting the running lights on the floor. What to tell, what not to tell…
“I’m a Greyhound,” she heard herself say. Her own shock at just blurting out the truth was mirrored on Hawk’s face, and in different circumstances the look on his face would’ve been pretty damn funny, but Keeva wasn’t laughing.
“That…explains a lot,” Hawk said slowly. Greyhounds were Chimeras: genetically engineered people, bred for war and not much else. Greyhounds were one of the first types ever created, back before the colonization days. Though he knew of them, and the prejudices most Earth-folk held against Chimeras, Hawk personally had never met one before as none had settled on Gliese. Clearly, her ability to fight was closer to the Sims then he had thought.
When she kept silent, her black eyes attempting to bore a hole through his skull, he prompted her with a soft voice. “Go on, Keeva; I think there’s more to tell, and I ain’t running.”
She blinked at that. Was this man for real? Smoking hot, dynamite in the sack, a Star Wars lover, and now he takes a bombshell piece of news without freaking? She blinked again in attempt to hide her non-existent tears. “Half, really. Half-Greyhound,” she clarified at his raised eyebrow. “Dad was baseline, more or less. Mom was the Greyhound. Mostly pure, so she was what you’d expect, strong, hyperactive, and not much bouncing around her skull besides a fixation with shiny objects and a continuous urge to kick some ass. She was real pretty, though.” Keeva couldn't keep the sorrow out of her voice. “She had a good heart.” Keeva’s face took on a look that matched her voice as she remembered, something she rarely let herself do, and never in front of other people. “Dad loved her, and she him. Don’t see it very often, what they had. He would've done anything for her, and he did.” She paused, her expression hardening.
Hawk ached to see such love and loss on her face, and like a Shakespearean tragedy he almost didn’t want to hear any more, guessing what must come next. “Dad hid what she was best he could from the neighbors and such, but they found out in the end. Mama never told me what they accused him of, but we both knew it was our fault.”
“How could it be your fault?” Hawk was a little stunned. Earth folk acted like elitist pricks some times, but could they really be like that?
“How could it not be? No one likes Chimeras; something I always knew but never understood why.” She spat out in reply. She was looking at the tread of the deck plating as she continued her story, studiously avoiding Hawk’s gaze. “Earth’s been shipping Chimeras off-planet since they passed the involuntary resettlement act. Dad ran in big money circles, elite people. They found something to pin on him. That’s what they do. I was seven when they took my father away from us…” Keeva kept her face looking away, reigning in her emotions.
“Mama didn’t have much choice,” she started again. “Without Dad, we had to make our way off-world. It’s too hard for our kind on Earth. She was too hyper to hold normal work, and the taxes, well…We’d end up like dad did. She made it her mission to find him,” she grinned devilishly in recollection, “and that woman was always better with a good mission.”
“I can imagine she was,” Hawk added, seeing Keeva’s pride in her mother, the fighter, seeing her strength and determination shining through her daughter, the survivor. “But I had no idea it was so bad on Earth.” Hawk fixed with a serious expression. “It’s not like that on Gliese. We live side by side with Chimeras. The Cats have it better than baselines; they're adapted to the environment.”
Hawk was still a bit aghast at Keeva’s tale, not quite able to grasp the concept of such blatant hatred. Could it really be that bad back on Earth? Unfortunately, it explained all the negative comments about being a Cat-fucker and the like, phrases he had simply chalked up to hazing when he was back in basic training. Keeva was not done, however, so he brought his mind back to her narration.
“We ended up on Alpha Centari, and somehow my mother found Olav. Or he found her; I never was fully certain how that came about.” This time both Hawk’s eyebrows found his forehead. Here was an interesting piece of intel, and it made a few more tidbits click into place. The little devil who hung out on his shoulder, the one who didn’t like Hawk all that much, whispered how that was the only reason Keeva showed up in that firefight: not to save his ass, but to settle some score with Olav. But she was here, telling him this. That had to mean something, and he was holding onto that hope that he was more than a vehicle to revenge.
“Either way,” Keeva continued, oblivious to Hawk’s internal struggle, “She did what she could to find Dad. And then she died. She must have been nearly 60 by then. We don’t live much past that.” Keeva added that last part as an aside, a little pointed. “She never discovered where he’d been shipped.” She stopped to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. “I resumed the mission.” Keeva stared at a point beyond Hawk, lost in thought.
“You find your pa?” Hawk couldn’t help but ask, needing to know how this part of the story ended.
She gave a terse nod, her mouth set in a thin line. “Yes. They sent him to Aurora. I found out a few years after a colony pox had taken him. Olav did his damnedest to keep that from me as long as he could. Several years of labor’s worth, point of fact.”
“That fucker.” Keeva’s head snapped up to look at Hawk as he spoke, she was startled by the iron fury in his voice. “Gotta say, I’m mighty glad he took a bullet to the head. The kind of man who would string along a young girl’s hopes of finding her father, ain’t a man who deserves to live.”
Keeva felt a grin begin to creep on her face again. How did Hawk constantly do that to her? She had not smiled so freely in years. “No argument here, Hawk. I have to ask though, you carry ship-safe rounds in that gun?" The look on his face was all the answer she needed. “I just wish that bullet was enough to shuffle him loose. He’s got more than mod’d out goons as protection from the elements,” she explained at his questioning glance.
Hawk nodded with a frown. “Guess I should’ve figured he be mod’d himself. But a man’s gotta dream, right?”
“And what do you dream about, Mr. O’Hanson?,” Keeva asked with a seductive grin, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Her ship suit was still somewhat unsealed and the generous view of her cleavage was more than a perk, it was an invitation.
Hawk picked up on the change in atmosphere, immediately recognizing that share-time was over. He was fine with that; she’d given him more than he thought she would. Plus, a man had to have his priorities.
He mimicked her posture. “At the moment?” His gaze turned molten. “Re-discovering what that spot between your breasts tastes like.”
Her breath hitched. “Can’t say I’ve tried it myself,” she said with a smoky voice, “but I reckon it’s gotta be better than that sludge y’all call tea in the mess hall.”
He could help it: Hawk barked in laughter. “Ain’t no doubt on that score, darlin’,” he managed between guffaws. “You’re a straight shot of sexy, and that tea’s a straight shot of caffeinated shit.” His laughter slowed as he looked at her, taking her in. “Good to know we got more in common than a trilogy of old flicks and a fondness for dancing without clothes on. Thank you for talking to me, Keeva. Means a lot.” His voice had dipped again, conveying his sincerity.
Keeva looked almost bashful for a moment. “Don’t mention it, sugar.” Then she was back to being a hard ass. “Ever.”
“A gentleman never kisses and tells, darling.” Hawk gave her a wink. “Lucky for you, I don’t either. Secret’s safe with me. That bottom lip of yours, however, really isn’t.” His gaze zeroed in on the affore mentioned lip as he started to roll his chair closer, she had set him on fire without even touching him.
