Jason Halstead - Voidhawk

Dexter looked at his sword, drawing their attention to it. “No weapon, good point,” he said. With their attention on his broken sword, his other hand slid towards his pistol.

In a blur of motion he drew his flintlock and fired at the apparent leader of the pirates. The Pirate grunted and stumbled backwards, blood blossoming from his chest where the bullet hit him. The pirate’s sword preceded his body, falling and bouncing towards Dexter. The other pirates cringed, surprised by the blast.

Dexter slid his toes under the dropped weapon and flipped it up in the air, catching it with his sword arm. “There, now I have a weapon.”

The other two pirates looked at their fallen comrade, then at each other and back to Dexter.

“Who’s next?” Dexter goaded them. “Come on, you know I’m running rogue, so I can’t have any witnesses. And you know what I’m doing here, so I can’t be letting you leave.”

The wounded pirate limped into position to take a shot at him. Dexter lunged forward, catching the closest pirate’s blade on the barrel of his pistol while the other pirate parried his slash.

Amidst the rumble of exertion and clash of steel, the release of the ballista on the abandoned ship made them all pause. It was followed by a grunt of shock.

The gullible pirate that had fallen for Dexter’s initial bluff glanced back at his pistol-wielding companion and saw him on the ground. The fallen man clawed weakly at the spear-sized ballista bolt that had impaled his stomach and nearly split him in two.

Dexter’s pistol smashed into the pirate’s jaw, sending him stumbling back into the other one. He tripped and fell backwards, dropping his sword as he did so. With the other pirate off balance from the collision, Dexter ran him through with his new sword, then parried a final last ditch attack from the man before he fell to the ground and clutched his wounds. The grounded pirate scrambled to his feet and turned to flee.

Dexter hurried over to the bandit he had shot and pulled the pistol the man had at his side. He took aim and fired, hitting the running pirate in the back. He came to an abrupt stop, then tried to reach behind his back as though he could pull the bullet out. He turned in a staggering fashion to look back at Dexter. His mouth opened but no sound came out of it before he crumpled to the ground.

“Took you long enough!” Kragor called out from the ship.

Dexter waved at him and gathered the pistols from the other dead pirates, reloading them as quickly as he could. “There’s another ship out there, a Dart, and I’ve got to make sure it doesn’t get away!”

“Why?”

“It knows we’re in here and that we’re up to something,” Dexter pointed out. “Next time they’ll come bring meaner friends.”

“Oh…need any help?” Kragor asked.

Dexter looked around at the fallen bodies. His blood was still racing and he felt little more than exhilaration at his success. “I just killed three of them; I think I can handle one little ship. Clean up this mess and see if there’s anything we can use.”

Dexter headed towards the abandoned pirate skiff hearing Kragor muttering loudly, no doubt cursing his parentage. He examined it, noting it was damaged badly, but not enough to ground it.

The skiff lifted off and Dexter took care to mark where the ruined Ant had floated to, luckily, it had caught in the gravity of the asteroid. He retraced his path, hoping to see the Dart stranded somewhere. Disappointment flooded his skin along with a tinge of fear. If he couldn’t find them, he’d bet a month’s salary they’d return with reinforcements and steal his dreams.

Dexter returned to the asteroid, nearly out of power. With no magic to power the helm the ship would be as maneuverable as the rock the Hawk’s Talons rested upon. As it was, he was not sure he could land the skiff safely. Dexter cursed when he saw the Dart on the ground near the Hawk’s Talon. One of the pirates remained aboard the Dart, manning the light ballista. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Dexter took careful aim of the skiff and waited until there could be no mistake.

He leapt free of the skiff, trying his best to hit the ground rolling. The impact knocked the wind out of him and blackness tugged at his vision. When Dexter’s head cleared he stared at the great pile of scrap lumber. The pirate and the ballista he manned were nowhere to be found.

“There’d better be a charge in your Gnat, Fed pig, because after I kill you I need a ride off this rock!”

Dexter groaned and rolled over. A pirate stood a few feet from him, pistol pointed at him. “Hurry up and do it, it’ll hurt less.”

“Lose the weapons,” the pirate said, gesturing at his weapon belt around his hip.

Dexter glanced down, amazed his sword was still on him. He reached down and loosened his belt slowly, remembering at the last to untie the holster from his thigh. He tugged it free and tossed it off to the side cursing as he did so; he felt as though he was covered with bruises and scratches. He pulled a dagger from his boot and added it to the pile.

“Now get up, your buddy’s got himself locked in that wreck and you’re going to help us get him out. Maybe, if you play nice, we’ll leave you two stranded here,” the pirate said.

Groaning for effect, Dexter rose up to face the pirate. Once on his feet, he turned his head to look at the scattered remains of the two small boats. Broken wood and metal fittings were scattered throughout the shadowy depression. He saw the pirate take a step closer to him and reach out to grab him.

Dexter whistled. “That’s got to hurt.”

“What?” The pirate asked, his extended arm hesitating.

Dexter’s twisted his body and grabbed the only other pistol that had remained on him when he had crashed. It was tucked into his pants in the small of his back. He raised his gun and fired it at the off-balance pirate.

The pirate jerked, firing his own flintlock high and just over Dexter’s head. Not thinking about the close call, Dexter crashed into him and bore him to the ground. He clubbed him repeatedly with the spent pistol until the pirate’s face resembled a rotten tomato.

Dexter rose, breathing heavily and fighting the urge to give in to his aches and collapse. After gathering his weapons he made his way to the hole in the hull, reloading his pistols as he went.

“I’ll keep this rat cornered, go check on Turval!”

Dexter ducked to the side of the open doorway leading from the cargo hold into the companionway of the ship. He waited several seconds, listening and trying to keep his breathing calmed. In short order he heard the footsteps of the pirate walking down the hall. The man walked into the room, catching a glimpse of Dexter out of the corner of his eye.

The pirate yelped and swung around, bringing his pistol to bear. Dexter swung his pistol up and knocked the pirates aside. The impact twisted the flintlock in the pirates grip and made him pull the trigger, sending out a deafening blast. Dexter’s reclaimed sword plunged into the pirate’s belly and up into his chest. He yanked on it once, forcing it in deeper, then pulled it out and let the dying pirate fall.

The ringing in his ears made his eyes water and his head swim. He shook his head, bracing himself against the wall of the ship with his sword arm, and then checked his pistol to make sure the hammer was back and ready to fire. He peered through the door and saw a lone pirate remaining, glancing back and forth nervously between the closed door to the bridge and the doorway that his companion had gone through. When he saw Dexter he spat out language that proved he was a sailor first and a pirate second.

“I’ve got your runt, you come up here and I’ll kill him!”