By My Hands

Chapter 3—200K?!

They stayed earthbound on Heathford another four days. I know, because I walked by the docks every day on my lunch break, part of me hoping that the Star would be gone and part of me praying that it wasn't. I don't know what I was looking for exactly—I had given Melfina the information on where I would be staying and working just in case they needed to contact me, and they hadn't, so they obviously didn't plan on begging me to come back.

Not that I expected them to. Of course not. That would have been stupid.

And, as much as I wanted to be back on the Outlaw Star, my new job wasn't that bad. It was a semi high-class repair shop, so a lot of the weapons that came through were very interesting to work with. I hadn't done much in the way of arms repairs, most of my life had been spent on things with engines, but I caught on relatively quickly. The old man I worked for, Franklin Stuart (Franky, for short) was a veteran of the Fourth Interplanetary War, and he had some awesome stories to tell. So, it wasn't like I was chomping at the bit to get the hell out of there, but I missed the ship a lot.

Not the ship itself, so much as the things on it. I missed my bedroom. I missed sleeping with Melfina when Gene's sexcapades were too loud. I missed eating breakfast with Aniki, and drinking tea with Suzuka, even though we never talked much. Most of all, of course, I missed Gene. But, that was to be expected. He'd been the one constant in my life for the past ten years, and it would have been strange for me not to.

When I first saw the bounty poster hanging in the post office, a month and a half after I had left the ship, I almost thought it was a joke. I would have, too, if there was anyone on this planet who would waste their time on me like that. It was tacked up on the bulletin board, hanging next to the announcement of the martial arts tournament next weekend and the advertisements for various goods and shops. My jaw went completely slack when I saw my own eyes staring back at me.

It was clear that they didn't have a recent picture of me, so they had taken one from when I was probably around fifteen and aged it using some random bit of computer software. Despite looking a tiny bit different, the accuracy was unnerving, really. They got my shaggy hair, my blue eyes, my short stature down almost to a 't'.

Wanted: James 'Jim' Hawkins

Age: 20

Native to Sentinel III in the fourth quadrant

Weight: approx. 150 lbs.

Height: approx. 5'7''

Dead or Alive, 200K

Turn in any information to the local branch of the Space Forces. Rewards offered for any information.

At first, I read it as 2K, which would still have been ridiculously high for someone like me if you considered that I hadn't done anything. Then I thought it might have, possibly, been 20K. I refused to believe that the poster was accurate. There was no way in hell that the Space Forces would shell out 200K for a loser like me, no fucking way. It suddenly occurred to me that if I had such a massive bounty on my head, it was probably a horrible idea to be standing in the post office gawking at the wanted poster, so I nonchalantly ripped it down and ran back to the shop as fast as my rather short legs could carry me.

I couldn't decide whether or not to tell Franky. On one hand, I knew I was possibly putting him in a difficult position by him not knowing, but he would also most likely fire me if he did know. No sane man would keep a 200K bounty as an employee in his heavily trafficked shop. All it would take for him to be implicated would be one customer who had seen the wanted poster and had any desire to be filthy rich, and not only would my ass be in jail, but his shop would probably be closed. I knew how the Space Forces worked, and they wouldn't show any mercy. If they were willing to pay so much for my capture, they would be willing to punish anyone would had helped me out as well.

I decided to tell him. If he wanted to fire me, so be it. I couldn't help cursing my horrible timing at severing myself from Gene—he was capable of avoiding capture indefinitely, I knew from experience. And maybe while we were running, we could figure out what the fuck about me was so important that the Space Forces would set a 200K bounty on my head.

It usually would have taken me a good ten minutes to walk back to Frank's shop from downtown, but in my rush it only took about five. It was Monday, the only day of the week that the shop was closed, so I hurried around the back to use the service and deliveries door.

Frank had never been married. That was the first thing he told me when I accepted the job as his assistant. “I never felt the need to attach myself to anyone like that. Of course, there were opportunities, a few times when I almost caved in, but I never did. That doesn't mean I expect you to act like a pig. Just because we're men doesn't me we have to live like smelly beasts.” That's what he said. I instantly decided that I liked him, but that's not the point. What I mean to tell you is that Frank's Gun Repair, despite having the least original name in the universe, was the cleanest mechanical shop I had ever been in. I think I could have spent the rest of my days eating off the floor and lived a long and healthy life.

“I'm back, old man.” He looked up from his workbench, clutching what appeared to be a rocket launcher in his hands. It was a funny image, but I wasn't laughing. In fact, I think I might have almost started to cry, everything was so surreal.

“What, you want a medal or something? I'm busy here. Go put the mail away.” He went back to polishing the gun, but I didn't do what he asked me. Instead, I walked over to him and sat down heavily on the bench next to his cleaning tools.

“I saw something at the post office that caught my eye—might be something you're interested in, I don't know.” Pushing his white hair out of his eyes, he cocked an eyebrow at me, gesturing for me to continue. I opened my mouth to explain, but I couldn't think of any way to phrase it that didn't paint me as either a criminal or a liar, so I just took the poster out of my pocket and handed it to him. Watching him unfold it was one of the most agonizing moments of my life, I think. It didn't occur to me until his eyes were scanning the paper that he had a rocket launcher in his lap and probably wouldn't mind using it to make an extra 200K to supplement his business.

“Jim, was there something you didn't tell me when I hired you?” He put the paper on the bench and looked at me calmly. 'Maybe', I thought, 'he hasn't gotten to the 200K part, yet.'

“I know you probably won't believe me—hell, I hardly believe it myself—but I have no idea why the Space Forces would be willing to offer anything for me, let along 200K. It doesn't make any sense.” In the back of my mind, I expected him to believe me. At least, I was refusing to really think about what would happen if he didn't. The best case scenario was that he kept quiet until I found a way to get off the planet without being seen, but the worst case scenario, on top of being the most likely, was for him to turn me in. And, with such a huge price on my head, I didn't know how long I would last.

“I believe you. When I first met you, I thought you were a good kid, and my first impressions are almost never wrong.” He stood up, walking over to the front door to check the locks. When he turned to me, there was something strange in his eyes.

“I've had to deal with the Space Forces more often than I would like, being in a trade that sometimes comes across poached goods. I've always been more than cooperative with them, but not because I agree with how they do things. They know how to get what they want, Jim. And apparently what they want right now is you. Such a high bounty is almost unheard of...if you show your face in public at all I can guarantee they'll have thirty hits on you in ten minutes. With this poster, they've practically guaranteed that you will never be able to get away.”

Funny—the only thing that bothered me about that was I would never get to see Gene or Melfina again.

“I would hide you here, but I don't think you would stay secret for very long. I'm ashamed to admit that most of my clientèle are exactly the type of person who would love to turn you in.”

I couldn't deny it. In all honesty, if I knew where someone with a bounty like that was staying, I probably wouldn't hesitate, so I couldn't exactly blame them for it. Still, I didn't like the thought that Frank was really the only person I could trust on Heathford. Trying to hide somewhere, or better yet trying to find someone who wouldn't instantly turn me in, wasn't something that excited me at all.

I knew what Gene would have done. He would have bought as much food as possible onto the Star and run as fast and as far as he could manage. Unfortunately, the Space Forces would easily be able to catch me in any ship I could afford to buy. No matter what planet I was on, I could usually count on the unwavering truth that something which was inexpensive was rarely very good quality. On the Outlaw Star, Gilliam would have crashed himself before letting them take me, but I had left that all behind. Now, I was completely alone, and it was beginning to look like Gene hadn't been the one to bring the Space Forces down on our heads after all.

It was me.

–

As it turned out, not all of Frank's friends were gun-slinging marauders. That night, I packed up my things and he took me to the house of his friend Sophia. I had a sneaking suspicion that Sophia was one of the women who had tempted him to get married, but I didn't have the guts to ask him. She was the generic old woman, slightly bent, with knobbly fingers and white hair tucked into a long braid, but she was interesting to be around. She lived in a house in the country—part of the reason why Franky had brought me to her, I'm sure—and it reminded so much of where I grew up. Every morning, when I would wake up and stand outside on the porch, I could smell the pure...cleanness that floated through the air. It wasn't the best feeling in the world, but it was pretty damn close.

Franky said goodbye to me on the front doorstep of Sophia's house, and I regret to say that I never saw him again after that night. It was too dangerous for him to come visit me, for both me and him. I got the impression that he didn't visit Sophia too often normally, and any break in that routine would have been instantly suspicious. Still, there are times when I miss the old man's quick humor, and I never really got to thank him properly for everything he did for me.

What I didn't know at the time was that the Space Forces were on my trail like bloodhounds, and they had no intentions of giving up the hunt. Not knowing why they were after me also meant being unaware that finding me was their number one priority—and would remain so until they caught me and put me out of my misery. Every day, I wondered if this would finally be the day when I they would realize where I was hiding. Sophia and I had a plan for keeping her out of trouble, but it was shoddy at best and probably wouldn't hold under strain. I was relying on the belief that not even the Space Forces would imprison little old Sophia.

If it weren't for the Junkmobile, I think I might have died of boredom before the Space Forces could even find me, but as it was I had my savior. The Junkmobile was a half rusted piece of shit car that Sophia's late husband Eric had bought for her some thirty years ago. She had crashed it the very first time she brought it out, and it hadn't worked since then. If there was one thing that got me going in the morning, it was a mechanical malfunction that I needed to fix.

It was tough to fix without having the means to buy new parts, but that just meant I had to fix the parts she had when I would have normally just thrown them out. I wasn't sure what make the Junkmobile was, some brand I'd never seen before, but that didn't deter me. I was used to working on things without knowing much about them, and this car was no exception. As long as Sophia kept the lemonade coming, I could keep working on it. By the time they caught me, it was running better than it probably ever had, and I have to say, I'm still rather proud of it.

–

I tiptoed down the hallway, padding gently so my parents wouldn't hear me and send me back to bed. Kaeru, my stuffed frog, was clutched in my arms, the one childish thing I held onto anymore. I could see the light coming from underneath the door to Father's study, and the soft voices of my parents floated through it, comforting me.

It wasn't nightmares this time, but, for some other reason, I couldn't sleep. Sometimes my mother and father forgot that I was still an eight year old boy, and they lived within their own lives too much. Even if I didn't act like it, sometimes I still needed them.

I paused with my hand on the doorknob, pressing my ear to the wood an listening to their quiet voices. They were so low that they were almost whispers, but I had always had good hearing—I could still make out their words.

“...don't know why they would let something like this slide through the cracks this far. It just makes the company look bad.”

“Did you speak to Mister Takamura about it? It doesn't sound like the kind of thing he would usually stand behind...maybe he doesn't know? It wouldn't to be sure before you do anything active about it.”

My father sighed heavily; the familiar sound of his feet thumping onto the study desk was the only other sound.

“It sounded like he was the one behind it.”

“That might be the problem. Maybe he's engineering some sort of big money laundering scheme.” Her bright laugh echoed throughout the room, and it was easy to understand why.

Mister Takamura was the head of the company branch which my father worked for, and the few times I had met him I had liked him a lot. He was an aging man, with grey hair and thick coke-bottle glasses perched on his crooked nose. He once told me that he'd gotten into a fight over a stuffed pony when he was five years old, breaking his nose in the process, and it hadn't healed properly. The idea that a man who had gotten beaten up over a stuffed pony was engineering some cold-hearted plan to steal money was laughable.

“Anyway, I think we should keep this conversation for another night, alright? It seems like we have company.”

She opened the door, pulling the knob out of my hand, and I stared up at her. It occurred to me suddenly that her oversized t-shirt made her look very small, standing there.

“Did you have another nightmare, Honey?”

I shook my head.

“No...I...just couldn't sleep. I was going to the library to find a book to read.”

I don't know why I lied to them. I hadn't been going to the library, of course, I had been going to find them. They hadn't been in bed, so I'd come here instead, but why would they want to deal with me right now? They had other things to worry about...but...

Wasn't I their son?

“Then you're going the wrong way, Jim,” my father's smooth, deep voice carried through the air, “the library's downstairs. But, you should be in bed anyway. Aren't you a little too old to be getting up in the middle of the night? Don't you have school tomorrow?”

–

I woke to the feeling of Sophia's hand on my shoulder and her wrinkled, worried face hovering over my bed. For a brief moment, I could almost remember what I had been dreaming about, but it wasn't long until her urgency pushed thoughts of it to the back of my mind.

“Come, James, they've found you! They're coming up the drive—if you hurry, you can hide in the barn.” My blood ran cold, and my hands gripped onto the covers lie they would somehow be able to protect me. Picking up my jacket from where I had draped it over the chair, she threw it toward me and I was struck by the simple motherliness of the action. I didn't think Sophia had ever married Franky, but had she had children? Maybe that's why she had decided to take me in. Oh well, for a few months at least, it had been worth it.

Looking back, I probably should have known that they were going to find me eventually. Sooner, rather than later. I wasn't Gene, I didn't know how to run away very well. Had I really let the months at Sophia's house lull me into a false sense that anywhere was really safe? It didn't matter how they had found me (really, I only hoped that Franky was alright) because they would have found me regardless. Whoever had turned me in had only been the first one to figure it out.

So, I snuck out the back just in time to hear Sophia opening the front door, answering in a highly exaggerated elderly woman's voice. She never sounded like that when it was just the two of us, but I had a feeling those days were long gone.

The barn was one of the giant, red structures that were so popular on Sentinel III but not quite as popular here on Heathford. It was one of the first things I had fixed, because Sophia had claimed to want to start raising horses, and I had been foolish enough to believe her. Of course, she had forgotten that idea once she discovered that she would actually have to pay for them. However, there were some unpacked haybales stacked in the corner, slightly moldy but the the perfect place for a fugitive like me to play the waiting game.

I was hiding from someone I had never met, being chased for something which I hadn't done. It was unfortunate, but hell, what part of my life wasn't.

It was probably completely inappropriate for me to be thinking about my parents while I was being chased by the feds, but I couldn't help it—the smell of the hay brought back too many memories. Unlike Sophia, we actually had horses when I was a boy. My favorite had been a big palomino mare, even though I don't remember her name anymore, and every morning I would go out to put fresh hay in her feed bin, like it was my right or something. Strange...but I'd been thinking more and more about my family recently. Maybe it was because I wasn't around Gene all the time anymore, so I had more brainpower to devote to people other than him.

I heard them, rummaging through the house, ruining the careful cleanliness that Sophia had always kept her house in. The sound carried easily, because it was summer and all the windows were open to let in the night air. Clenching my fists, I almost wanted to yell at them for not being more careful, it wasn't like I was hiding in her china cabinet.

When I heard them coming out of the house, I have no idea what made me go out to meet them. The best excuse I could come up with was that either I had temporarily lost my sanity, or I felt like somehow I could reason with them, you know, proclaim my innocence, and that they would somehow listen to me. It was stupid, I get that, completely moronic, but I guess I just wasn't used to being stuffed in hay enough to keep my thoughts straight.

Now, while I hadn't had much experience hiding inside hay bales, in my twenty years of life I had had plenty weapons pointed at my head. It never got any less disconcerting, but I was relatively used to it at this point. Had the situation not been so...what's the word...sucky? I probably would have been flattered that seemingly the entire Space Forces had come to greet me. As it was, I don't think I've ever been that scared.

“James Hawking, come out with your hands placed on top of your head. Relinquish any weapons you may have on your person and do not make any threatening movements. We have authority to treat you as a potential hazard, and will act accordingly.” I didn't doubt them for a second. Sophia was behind them, and one of the lower soldiers had a restrictive hand on her shoulder, making sure she didn't try to run for it. As if a seventy year old woman would go up against the feds. As if I would.

“Yeah, yeah, here I am,” I said.

And the next moment, they cracked me over the head.

–

It was probably the swaying of the ship that had woken me, because for one glorious moment I thought I was back on the Star in my own bed, waking for another day of bitching at Gene. Alas, that wasn't the case. If the discomfort in my wrists wasn't enough to convince me, he pounding headache I had that rivaled even the heaviest night of drinking probably would have. I could see out the window, but that didn't help me much—all that was out there were flickering stars millions of miles away.

A shuffling from behind me caught my attention, and I slowly turned over, trying to be as kind to my headache as I could. There were two soldiers sitting cross-legged next to the door, each clutching a rifle as long as their arms, with their index fingers on the triggers. The name tags on their uniforms both read Johnson, and I wondered if they were brothers or just unoriginal.

“Hey, guys.” They didn't look at me.

“Ok. I get it. No conversing with the prisoner. But, could you at least tell me what I did to deserve a 200K bounty? I'm at a loss.” Even this much talking cause my headache to redouble, but I needed to know. For my own sanity, I had to know.

They ignored me. Go figure. Even if they knew why I was here, they wouldn't break orders to tell me.

I don't know how long I was in the ship. Maybe an hour, maybe two. Maybe days. All I saw outside the window was the static atmosphere of space, an unchanging blackness lit with the occasional asteroid or planet. Even sitting on my bed on the Outlaw Star listening to Gene having sex would have been more interesting than sitting in that room. The headache had gradually faded to a dull throb, but it was still there, and my wrists were beginning to chafe from the cuffs and my constant squirming. Maybe it was the fact that I was lying on a hard, grate floor, with my hands tied behind me, but I just couldn't seem to find a comfortable position.

I had almost decided to start a one-sided conversation with the Johnson's, when I felt the tell-tale signs of docking—the slight trembling of the ship, the jerk as the arms pulled it into base. As weird as it may have been, I was looking forward to whatever lay ahead, because it couldn't possibly be more boring than what had been going on in that ship.

I felt a tugging on my arms, and turning I could see another soldier behind me. He pulled me into a standing position, and even though I shouldn't have been surprised, the rough treatment still caught me off guard. I still thought that it was all some big mistake, that there had been some other five foot six James Hawking from Sentinel III that they had mistaken me for. As I tripped over the threshold, the glaring lights from the interior of the base momentarily threw me off. But, when I could finally blink the lights from my eyes, I knew that I been mistaken about something.

The entire Space Forces hadn't come to pick me up from Sophia's, because the other half had been waiting for me here.

At the forefront was a rotund man, standing in full SF uniform, blinking his eyes from behind a pair of thin glasses and pudgy cheeks.

“Welcome to our base, Mister Hawking. I do hope you find your time here to be most enjoyable.” I hated the sarcasm that I heard in his voice. It was something that Gene and I had used on countless occasions, but it sounded so much more cynical, condescending, from his mouth. He never told me his rank, but I assumed he was a high ranking officer, and that was the only reason why I didn't try to shove my foot in his fucking face. That, and my headache.

“I'm sure I will, as soon as someone decides to tell me why I'm here”

For some reason, the perverted, insane smile that he sent my way far from comforted me.

“I'm surprised you don't know already, Mister Hawking. You did kill your parents, after all.”

–

A/N: Thank you muchly to my reviewers! I hope this twist to the story doesn't throw anyone off. Enjoy!

Again, I'll attempt to update every other Sunday.