Chapters:

Prologue

Jorem could hear his heart thumping through his ears, like the quickening pulse of a hyperdrive generator just before the jump, pulsing faster and faster with each passing second. As the smell of autumn on Menor V wafted by he felt the hard impact of each footfall and the brisk air against his skin. As he ran, his memories flowed vividly, he recalled a conversation in his lab. He remembered the wafer-like cushion on his chair, the disgusting taste of the metallic aroma of cooking H.B.T. and the look of worry on his lifelong friend, and cohort, Dorheim’s face.

                                                             *****

“What do you mean a bounty? I ain’t done a gray damn thing. All I done was sell the green H to that kid a few rotes ago. I ain’t deservin’ no bounty,” Jorem smacked his lips together between each word trying to distance the horrid taste and smell as best he could. His voice higher than expected for a man his size and mixed with his clean cut face made him seem much younger.

“Jorem, y’know how I’s always tellin’ ya to let me be the brains o’ this here operation? This is one o’ dem times. You don’t go selling the dangerous bio stuff before consultin’ me,” Dorheim paused assessing what to do next and slowly tugged his wiry looking soot and eggshell colored beard.

Dorheim being a few years Jorem’s elder made him always act the wiser of the two. His skin tone was much the same as Jorem’s and facially they could be twins. Aside from Dorheim’s one cerulean and crimson eye, his long hair, and beard.

“Look Jor, I ain’t got the time to argue witch ya. We got two options here. Either ya run, or ya hide. These hunters that took up the job… well let say I got the right idea pullin’ the strings I done. They aren’t the type ya mess with. They got somethin’ of a perfect record. You ‘member that fool from Earth that done blowed up that space port? These them hunters caught that dip, and Jor I just… I think you gotsta run,” Dorheim finished his thought as the tone in his voice shifted to pleading. Fear growing in his eyes as more information scrolled on the holo-recorder.

“Dor,” Jorem began raising his voice steadily, “I ain’t runnin’ from no hunters. I stand my ground; I don’t run regardless they record. They ain’t done nothin’ to impress me and they ain’t gunna find me here.”

He sat by the open window of his home and lab, with the color and odor of the chemicals stained into the walls, waiting for a sight of these so called bounty hunters on his trail.

A few days had passed as he waited. Until he woke to sounds of the bustling streets and the cacophonous reactions to an odd group. Comprised of a Human, an Elf, and a Gnome outfitted in black tactical gear and strange weapons. He recognized them as his hunters and knew he could not sit still a minute longer as he set afoot as prey to the greatest chase of his life.

                                                                *****

Jorem rounded a corner suddenly slipping to his hands and knees before regaining what little composure he had. He leapt over the next few oily spots in the cracked pavement of New Aruun. He had learned to love his city and his home planet of Menor V, and leaving had never been an option until this morning.

He realized that he had never run this far, or fast as he panted for breath. The toll of years of H.B.T. abuse becoming evident.

His tall, gangly, pale, and shirtless form covered with pock marks deep in his skin, from the searing droplets of the caustic substance known as H.B.T., made him a dead giveaway for a drug abuser. All of which, he knew, meant no one would come to his aid if he were gunned down in the middle of his brisk morning run-for-his-life.

Jorem had not caught a glimpse of his bounty hunters since his escape from his sleazy drug lab. His pace slowed to a walk as he reached the edge of the slums that bridged into the Top Run and Merchant Districts. He found the coziest alley he could to hide from his would-be captors.

He walked at a quicker pace down the alley looking for somewhere to hide. He found a small lifeless Elven man next to a dumpster and tore the blanket from the dead Elf to wrap himself up in. Jorem took an extra few seconds to replace some of his own clothing to ensure his camouflage. He was smarter than most people gave him credit for, or at least he thought he was.

Jorem was only in the alley mere minutes before one of his hunters began to skulk through. He assessed her while attempting to stay incognito. She was tall even by Elven standards. She walked with a grace he had never observed, especially while clad in tactical gear. Her hair, mostly covered by a small cloth hat, was a deep brown color with blue tips like that of a wilting flower. Her eyes were a deep, entrancing cobalt as they darted back and forth from body to body.

He hadn’t realized how many homeless were in this alleyway, nor how many were awake and staring directly at her. The Elven woman paused, for but a moment, at the corpse of the Elven man and whispered something sounding like a prayer under her breath.

Jorem surveyed the alley once more before pressing his head into his knees and focusing intently on the cement and asphalt beneath his feet. He didn’t dare look up, as she passed, for fear of being recognized.

As she paused in front of him the seconds passed in grueling agony. Jorem nervously waited for the sound of departing footsteps. He could hear nothing but the familiar sounds of blood pulsing in his ears and the labored breathing of the homeless.

He raised his vision in defiance of his fear. She had already drifted to the end of the alley like a whisper on the wind and vanished. He peered for a moment longer realizing just how ill-prepared he was.

With the elven hunter gone he quickly gazed back and forth to see if anyone else was following. The coast was clear as he sprang to his feet and walked over his previous path.

As Jorem neared the alley’s end a Human man stepped out of the shadows. He was shorter than Jorem, but colossally muscular for his size and confined in the tactical gear. The only indication of his age came from his bleached white hair and beard both peppered with a deep crimson. His skin was extraordinarily pale which contradicted the battle hardened look of his face and the enormous gun-like weapon strapped to his back.

“Please don’t run. The more you run, the worse this will end for you,” a surprisingly deep baritone voice rang out from the Human man that sounded more comforting than commanding.

The back of Jorem’s mind screamed for him to stop and attempted to reason with the adrenaline already surging through his body, but the noise was drummed out by the beating of his heart. He pivoted back scraping his hands and knees as he lost his balance.

He felt his muscles strain from overuse as he turned to ensure his distance from his pursuer, whom he saw begin to draw his weapon without taking a single step. Jorem’s gaze returned forward as he was startled by the presence of the graceful Elf barely a foot in front of him.

His thoughts went blank as a primal urge swept over him. Escape. The woman reached out to subdue him as he swatted her hand away. He tried to juke left and then right, but her speed was uncanny. Every movement he made was mimicked by this Elf. It was like trying to pass someone in a hallway, both moving the same direction.

Jorem’s frustration finally surfaced as he threw both arms forward at the Elf with extreme force, shoving her away. Surprised by his own strength he forced her to stumble back. She clearly had not expected the retaliation and he made his escape, as he dodged to her left, continuing at his previous speed. As he began to hope for freedom a grin painted itself from ear to ear.

With a loud click his freedom was short-lived and he soared through the air, pain stinging across both his legs. He descended to the ground with a horrible thud. The sound of a popped socket and a few snapped bones reverberated through the alley.

Pain seared across Jorem’s entire body as he stayed immobilized and took stock of any broken bones. He glanced back at the cause of his graceless fall to see a Gnomish woman standing, smaller than most Gnomes, with a metal arm extending from her torso completely horizontal.

He had to comprehend the fact that he had been clotheslined by a Gnome.

Jorem glared at her while attempting to right himself. His legs were in too much pain to put any weight on. He rolled to his stomach as his determination contorted his face and he crawled as fast as he could manage. He turned his vision back to see the other members gathering behind the Gnome.

His adrenaline had finally begun to give way. The sounds around him began to flood his senses. The homeless clattering their way out of the alley, the clicking and popping of the Gnome’s mechanical left arm, and even the birds chirping overhead.

“Jorem Borar of Menor V, you are under arrest, for the murder of two of Menor V’s royal sons. Baron Tills, Leader of the free people of Menor V, requires your presence at the trial, you scum,” the Elven woman’s voice was a soothing and sultry sound, until she spat the last words at Jorem, as she removed her hat.

Jorem opened his mouth as to speak but dehydration had taken his voice. He could only groan as the Gnomish woman spoke up interrupting the pity that began to rise in their eyes.

“Don’t play with the scum. He isn’t going very far on his own. Illara and Benji, get your asses over here. Time’s a-wastin’,” the Gnomish woman’s voice was surprisingly vibrant and hearty as she had caught up and towered over his form. Her metallic arm began to make a dissimilar noise to the one he had heard before.

“Clarissa we don’t all have the moral compass of a red dragon, okay? Sometimes we want to try and resolve these things peacefully without causing undue harm to some drug rat who thinks he can escape his fate,” Benji’s voice rang like a large bell once again as he accompanied Clarissa’s position over Jorem.

Clarissa’s arm clicked slightly more rapid as her face contorted into an angry crimson colored glare directed at Benji. Her vision swept back to Jorem as her arm clicked loudly one last time and a small, electrified rod sprang forth.

Jorem tried to let out a scream as the rod struck his back, to no avail. He grasped toward Clarissa’s leg as his world began to spiral away and he thought back to Dorheim and his home as darkness took him.