Hawke and Flint

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This is another piece from my Sci-Fi Anthology. It's a lot shorter than the others but I wanted to write more of an exposition/dialogue piece between two friends

 

Smooth scribblings resonate in the air as Hawke records the events today in her journal. What started as something to pass the time before she slept has become a relaxing and necessary daily ritual of hers. A helion crystal glimmers inside a lamp on her desk, providing light for Hawke. At its current setting, only Hawke’s desk can be seen in her dark quarters. As She continues to write, her mind begins to wander, trying its best to conceptualize the journey ahead of her. Hypothetical scenarios play out in front of her, options to handle those scenarios are made, outcomes are thought, contingencies for those outcomes are considered. Just as she begins her spiral into planning upon planning, 2 sophisticated knocks ring out from the door. The sound surprises her, no one else should be awake this late.

 

“Come in”, she says as she tweaks with her lamp, brightening the room. The door quietly swings open and Flint walks through. His classic outfit is more fitting a rancher or a bandit from a desert planet than an Aetherium pirate captain. Sporting a dark broad-brimmed hat with a high crown and a brown leather duster coat that would reach near his knees. His skin is ash white with black stains moving on their own volition around. His hair, tousled and short, has the same effect.

 

“I hope I didn’t wake you, Artemis.”

 

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t really sleeping. What can I do for you?”

 

“I was hoping… to talk to you, it’s been a while since we’ve had a drink, no?”

 

There was something strange about the way Flint was carrying himself. There were no hand gestures or even boisterous posture. It was as if his confidence was muted and any moment it could rise, he would shrink it back. In the seven standard years Hawke has known Flint, she has never seen her friend like this. Vulnerable. Without saying another word, Hawke takes 2 glasses and a bottle of Pandora Bourbon, Flint’s favorite, from her liquor cabinet, and sits on a chair which rests at the very end of her quarters, next to a window overlooking the Aetherium. It’s a sight that she’ll never get tired of looking at. Billions of stars and swirling galaxies paint the vivid purple expanse, just waiting to be explored. As Hawke is put in a trance by the Aetherium’s beauty, Flint doesn’t hesitate to pour both of them glasses.

 

“So Vagabond,” she says, blinking out of her trance. “What’s wrong?”

 

Flint doesn’t answer, only taking a long sip, allowing the reddish amber liquid to flow down this throat. Hawke follows this, it first burns, but as it smoothly goes down, a sweet taste leaves a feeling of vigor and adventure in Hawke’s move.

 

“Did I ever tell you who I was before I became Vagabond Flint?” Everything about Flint changed, he wasn’t looking at Hawke, but he was more relaxed. The company and alcohol has definitely helped.

 

“No, I always assumed there was something before you became you but I never asked because that was your business. I always assumed you wanted to be mysterious to get more men in your bed.”

 

For the first time the whole time Flint has been here, he smiled and tried his best to stifle his laugh.

 

“Actually, I’ve only ever been with one person my whole life”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really, he’s…” Flint voices trails off as his smile dies away, replaced with a more somber and weak look.

 

“He was…” he continues, “the best thing that was ever in my life, he knew what was best for me, he took care of me, he loved for who I was”

 

“Who was he?”

 

There was hesitation in Flint’s voice, the word wanted to come out but every fiber of him seemed to not want to confront it, to hear it again.

 

“Astora,” like the bourbon, was sweet but it burned in Flint’s mouth. “I wasn’t always Vagabond Flint. Many years ago, my name was Sigmond, and I was on my way to become an Admiral in the federation’s Astronavy.” Hawke’s face doesn’t shift but this revelation comes as both a surprise and not at the same time. Flint has always harbored hatred towards the Astronavy, he is also one of the best captains she has ever had the pleasure of working with.

 

“Because of how good we were, we were loved by a lot of the higher and lower ranks, but disliked by our peers. One particular bastard hated us the most, Horus. One day, he told Astora and I of a mission to a backwater desert planet, I don’t remember what for. He betrayed us as soon as we reach landfall. Everything blurs together that day. I remember my crew screaming and trying to abandon ship, only to be butchered by Horus’s ship, and his fucking laughter. I still hear it sometimes.”

 

His hands were trembling. As Hawke reached to comfort him, he downed what remained in his glass, filled it up again and continued.

 

“Eventually, we crashed on the planet. And I was the only one who survived. Astora died in my arms and I couldn’t save him.” Flint pauses, the air becomes still in the silence, only accompanied with the humming of the thrusters.

 

“Eventually, I was picked up by someone I thought was a random straggler. He fed me and saved me and I joined his crew.”

 

“Aldric Mondragon, right?”

 

“Heh, yeah, He really saved me. That’s how I met you too, at Sinner’s Gulch.”

 

“If it’s okay to ask Flint, what brought all of this up?” The Bourbon in Flint’s glass swirls around as he ponders on the question.

 

“I found where Horus’ ship is.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Horus has gone up the ranks since my attempted murder which made him a hard target but he is going to be alone near the Centurion Nebula. He has a gigantic Man O’ War but with our two ships, we can easily take him down. Hawke, you have been my friend for years and I have never asked anything of you. But this, please help me kill the man who took my love away from me.”

 

“You have my ship.” Hawke answers without hesitation.

 

“If we pull this off and survive, you’ll have my support for as long as I live, no questions asked.” Flint finishes his glass and begins to leave, just as he reaches the door he stops himself.

 

“Thank you, Artemis, I really mean it.”

 

“Vagabond, before you go, how did you get your name?”

 

Flint begins to laugh heartily, the whole quarters are filled with this joyful noise.

 

“I’ll tell you after we kill Horus” and leaves.