From the time he took his first steps, all Val Verdant ever wanted was to be a pilot! When he was fifteen, he lied about his age and joined the Galactic Marine Corps. He advanced quickly through the Marines, soon becoming one of their best pilot's. His small stature and prehensile toes made him the ideal candidate for a top secret project codenamed: WHISPER.
Val was shipped out with a group of other pilots to a shipyard in the middle of nowhere. Communication outside the station was strictly prohibited, questions were discouraged, any pilot's who got too nosey disappeared quickly.
For over a year Val and the other pilots tested all kinds of crafts in both simulators and hands-on. No one knew anything about WHISPER, but the heavy presence of civilian scientists raised many eyebrows among the pilots. The military rarely required civilian involvement on any project.
One night, on the way to a poker game, Val took a wrong turn. He stumbled into a clandestine meeting between his Commanding Officer and a muscle bound man in an expensive suit and shiny combat boots. The mere combination of the boots with the suit was enough to get his attention. But what really caught his eye, were the stranger's glowing red eyes and the red metal hand on his right side. With five, razor sharp, fully articulated fingers, it looked like a deadly skeleton hand.
Not long after, Val was arrested. He was charged with possession and distribution of drugs he had never even heard of. After a mockery of a trial, he found himself on the next transport to a Military prison colony.
No one escapes from the Galactic Marine prisons, his only chance was to break away before they got there. He snatched a bit of scrap metal in his toes on the way into the transport. Then he used the metal to short circuited all of the electronic shackles.
While the guards tried to corral the other prisoners, Val slipped into the ship's ventilation tubes. He easily disabled the internal security sensors and slipped into an emergency escape pod. Val fled as far away from the prison transport as he could.
Now, on the last bit of power he can squeeze from the pod's meager engine, Val finds himself at the edge of explored space. He has found a quiet system, where a giant sun heats several farming moons.
He coasts into a massive orbiting fuel station and gently drops the escape pod outside of the garages. The local grease monkey agrees to trade him some new cloths and a credit at the local saloon for the heap. With few questions asked, it's a good deal for both.
On the back side of the fuel station is Harv's Saloon, a dingy little hole in the wall strip club. The strippers are old and unattractive. The food is lack luster and the drinks are watered down, but that doesn't seem to dissuade the local farmers.
Val finds a spot in the corner of the bar and settles in. He orders himself a strong drink and proceeds to drown his sorrows.
He's an escaped prisoner, wanted by the Galactic Marine corps. If he's caught, the punishment is death. His promising career is over because he simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Over the next few drinks Val realizes that he'd better keep moving. He's going to need money. He can’t help but notice several poker games going on around the saloon, looks like easy money.
Most of the patrons are farmers, engaged in small stakes games. They don't look like they have too much to offer. Across the bar a tall man with wild silver hair and a mean looking scar over his left eye shuffles a fresh deck. Next to him is a large greenish creature with a long tail and sharp claws. They sit with a couple of locals who appear to be slightly better dressed than the rest. This seems Val's best bet.
He orders a fresh drink and some poker chips, then wanders over. He watches for a bit. When a new round comes up, Val moves in, "Mind if I join you?"
"You can have my seat, it's not my night." One of the locals gets up and walks away from the table.
Val settles in. The man with the silver hair grins as he reshuffles, "Maybe you'll have better luck. The name's Rue." He nods toward the green creature on his right, "This is my friend Garr, and Mr. Tim; proprietor of this fine establishment."
Val struggles not to rattle off his full name and rank, "--Er, name's Val."
Rue deals and the game is on. They play several hands before Mr. Tim looses all of his chips and leaves the table shaking his head. Rue and Garr are both much better players than Val would have guessed, but Val is a little better. The longer they play the more they drink.
Long after most of the farmers have gone home Rue finally throws in his cards. "You're a hell of a card player friend, but you don't look like a professional."
By this time Val's plans for a low profile have grown a bit fuzzy. "Nah, I'm a pilot--or I was, hell of a good one too!" The reminder that his dream career is suddenly over, makes him sag sadly.
"What happened?" Garr asks.
"Some bastard with red eyes and a metal hand." Val scowls!
Rue and Garr exchange a sharp look, "Was the hand red too?" Rue asks gravely.
"Yeah, was creepy. And his eyes glowed!" A shiver runs down Val's back. Rue and Garr are suddenly very interested.
"When?" Garr asks.
"Last week." Val shakes his head, it seems like a lifetime ago.
"Where?" Rue asks urgently...
At that moment, hundreds of light years away, Red Klaw stands on the observation deck of the Galactic Marine's top secret ship yards. He absently taps his razor sharp metal fingers together. It makes an unsettling sound.
In the dock beyond the windows, workers put the final touches on WHISPER. They apply the remaining sections of her chameleon skin. It looks like patches of a ship float disjointedly as the blackness of space shows through where the skin has already been applied.
With Red Klaw's enhanced vision, he can see her clearly. She is a powerful battle cruiser shaped like a giant, space faring, stingray. She looks sleek and maneuverable.
Behind Red Klaw, Val's Commanding Officer, commander Dillian, stands next to Laurine, a beautiful but cold looking female. Dillian pipes up, "We'll be ready to demonstrate her for the Generals by the end of the week."
"Excellent." Red Klaw replies, "Laurine will conduct the demonstration."
Dillian looks concerned, "But the Generals--"
Red Klaw glares at him, stopping him mid sentence. "I have other business to attend to. Laurine will act on my behalf, I expect her to be treated accordingly!"
Dillian nods and scurries out of the room. Red Klaw turns to Laurine, "I'm going to Earth to inspect the gems, keep me posted." He runs the blunt side of one metal finger tenderly down her cheek. She smiles demurely...
...To Be Continued.