Joely Sue Burkhart

Some ”The Rest of the Story” elements:

1. the alien species Quag came from “quagmire”, since their planet is swampy.  Kermit’s name is hard for Rackman to pronounce, but it sounds a little like Kermit, and well, he does look like a man-sized frog! 
2. Fen-Ddai:  keeping the swamp theme, I chose Fen.  Then I added “ddai” = “die” as a subtle clue to what happened there when Rackman’s people began their genocide.
3. Im-Muir is the name of a prison, from the word “immure” to enclose within walls or imprison.
4. The underlying premise is about hate, hope, forgiveness, and redemption.
5. Obsession for the ship’s name is rather obvious, reinforcing Rackman’s story goal.  As well as “Hope’s Haven” and Hope Brennan’s name.  Even Briggs’ name is slang for “brig”, prison, to reflect the premise and what hatred does to us.
6. There was a historical pirate named Calico Jack Rackham who inspired Rackman.  I pictured him as the Colonel in Sense and Sensibility, played by Alan Rickman, which also influenced the protagonist’s name.

If you missed it, week one is here.  Since the next two sections are relatively brief, I’m including them both today.

“You have your target.” Rackman waited for each of the four crewmen to nod. He only hoped the dockmaster was telling the truth about the presence of a certain crate from Tentar. “Grab your target and exit as quickly as possible. Remember our code. Shoot only as a last resort, and anyone who kills other than to protect our crew or ship will lose their share of the bounty.”

With his nod, Frank lit the laztorch and in seconds cut a hole in the frigate’s hull. “Let’s go.”

Leading the way, Rackman scanned for armed guards. Two. He stunned the one running toward the intercom and Frank nailed the other. Their docking position was perfect, with the main hold before them.

His crewmen split off in different directions, using their comms to locate their quarry. Rack didn’t need specifics; they were emblazoned in his head. He trotted through the maze of barrels and crates to grid H2. The white plaz pod caught his gaze immediately, glowing like a beacon on a stack of boxes marked mining samples.

A quick touch of each heel to the inside of the other boot sent razorblades shooting out the tips. Kicking and stabbing his way up the boxes using the blades for footholds, he climbed up enough to reach the pod and stuck it beneath his arm, cradling it against his body.

Jumping down, he barely heard Frank’s check-in. His heart pounded too loudly.

“Captain, all targets acquired.”

His hands trembled. It took all his control to leave the pod unopened beneath his arm. Besides, he would likely need his research materials in his quarters. He must be absolutely sure. Hundred-year-old mysteries were not magically solved. “Copy. Return home.”

Running back onto his ship, he forced himself to observe the successful and speedy detachment of the Obsession and the opening of the other crates. The boarding party did well enough, but by the grim lines of their faces, they weren’t pleased.

“This is it?” Briggs frowned. Rackman could hear the creaky wheels turning in his head as he added up the market value. “A few crates of antibiotics and foodstores. That’s it?”

“The best pick of the frigate’s hold.” Rackman made his voice deliberately pleasant. Casually, he extended a foot and studied the blade protruding from his boot. “I’m not claiming a portion of this haul, so that increases the crew’s portion. Antibiotics don’t sell as well as painkillers, but it’s still a worthy amount.”

Even Frank, who flew on the Obsession over a year, clutched his hands into fists at his sides and glared at him. “You risked our lives for this?”

Clutching the precious pod tighter beneath his arm, Rackman tapped the tops of his boots and sent the blades sliding soundlessly back into their hiding place. “There was no more risk than usual.”

“And exactly why is the hyperdrive inoperable, then?” Briggs raised his voice. “When I signed on, you promised high returns, significant hauls. This… This is nothing! At this rate, it’ll take me twenty years to buy my own ship!”

Frank gave a hard stare at the pod. “What’s your share, Captain?”

Smoothing his face, Rackman shrugged. “Just a pod containing some old books. You know I love to add to my collection every chance I get.”

“If you risked our lives for a moldy old book–”

Rackman stepped into the other man’s space. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t make threats. All he did was let the years of hardship, torture, and suffering darken his eyes. The many deaths bloodying his hands.

Frank turned away and jerked his head to the rest of the party. “Get the booty stored. Let’s get out of here before the cavalry arrives.”

Blandly, Rackman nodded. He wasn’t proud of his past, but it sometimes worked to his advantage, even when his men didn’t know the full story. “Use the secondary engines until the hyperdrive is up.”

“Course?” Briggs asked shakily.

“Anywhere for now.” Rackman’s pulse raced at the thought of the pod, and the location that would hopefully be revealed. “I’ll change our course as needed in a few hours.”

To Hope’s Haven.

#

Rackman slammed his fist on the table. Thrusting his chair backward so hard it bounced into the wall, he paced the small cabin, his mind stuffed with inconsequential details.

Kermit whistled softly. “No Hope?”

“If the location of New Haven is there, I don’t understand it.” Dropping back into his chair, Rackman raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve read every single one of her journals, finally this last one. I’ve read every single theory and collected hint relating to the legend. With my own eyes, I’ve seen the port of origin their colonization ship left from. I’ve read every passenger’s background. Every piece of the puzzle is right here in front of me, and I still don’t know where Hope’s Haven is.”

“What if Hope’s Haven is only a legend, as you say? A galaxy hoax?”

“No.” Rackman ground his teeth at the thought of such a vile betrayal. “It’s not a hoax. I’ve proven too many details. Hope Brennan did exist. She was ship’s doctor for the Orion out of Tentar ninety seven years ago. She was real. The ship was real. It truly was lost in space. Her journals are real–even fifty years ago someone verified her handwriting using her patient notes. Hope was real, is real, and I’m going to find her!”

“Odd, a woman writing by hand in that day and age.” Kermit made a low tinkling sound that Rackman knew was supposed to soothe him. It did, despite his determination not to be swayed. “Few used such archaic writing implements so long ago, let alone today.”

“Hope was… is special,” Rackman retorted. “She lost a patient database on Tentar, all her notes, all her research. Ultimately, she blamed the epidemic and her failure to contain it on the lack of hardcopy notes. Afterward, she always wrote by hand and then scanned all her personal correspondence.”

“You sound as if you know her.”

“I do, in a way.” Sighing, he bowed his head. “She’s so strong, so fierce in her determination to live.”

Determination he himself lacked for so long. If he didn’t have the galaxy legend of Hope’s final resting place to tantalize him, he would have given up on life long ago. It was the least he could do, considering how many lives he’d wrongfully taken.

Betrayed by his government, lied to, brainwashed, he killed thousands of Quags to avenge his brother, only to learn the truth. The most precious thing on the Quag swampy homeworld? Coal. Fuel. Enough for extermination of an entire planet, initiated by his own brother.

When Rackman tried to stop the atrocity, his own government imprisoned him for war crimes, deliberately in the same prison as the few surviving Quags. It should have been a fitting end for the Butcher, slaughtered in Im-Muir by the very race he helped murder.

Kermit whistled again. “Not your fault, Rack. Even I have forgiven you. Why do you not forgive yourself?”

“There is no forgiveness.” Pain clutched Rackman’s lungs in a vise. He closed his eyes, breathing hard. “Not when so many are dead and the Butcher of Fen-Ddai still lives.”

A sharp note from Kermit made him wince. “Fen-Ddai. Yes. But you paid the price in full in the years you spent in Im-Muir. The rest should be paid by your government, not you. Prison enough.”

Rackman stroked the thick, raw scar on his cheek. “Not enough. I’m still alive.”

“Barely.” Kermit patted him on the back, an extremely rare sign of respect and friendship. Quags very rarely touched anybody, let alone a human. “Find your Hope, my friend. If anyone can, you will. Fraud or not, she keeps you alive.”

“If Hope Brennan is a fraud, then I’ll get busy dying.”