11

Safari Joe was already late, and he should be getting back. He had wanted to find out who his mysterious host was on that forgotten moon in the middle of space, orbiting a dead, unlivable planet, but he just could not.

A couple of days after this unpleasant dream, he barged in on Kairo at his desk in his office. "I'm leaving," he said abruptly. "So open the doors." Kairo always kept the doors locked, and to be frank, Joe didn't blame him. He looked the man over one last time, the mocking mouth, the deceptively slight build, the salt and pepper hair, the tanned, rugged face. He memorized it as if he were a dead lover a young man did not want ever to forget. Joe didn't want to forget, all right. He wasn't done with Mr. Kairo Zarack.

Kairo looked up mildly and smiled. "Of course, Mr. Gregor.

Joe clenched his teeth, That was another reason he didn't like the man, He insisted on calling him Gregor. He hated that name. He hated it. It brought him shame and humiliation. It was early into his teens that he donned the name "Safari Joe".

"Fine...then open up."

Kairo smirked and stood. He reached for a control panel on the desk and punched in a code, then a few commands; they were done too fast for Joe to see them. It didn't matter, nothing happened. Kairo frowned, but Safari Joe thought that he could see an amused upturn twitching at the end of his lip. "Seems it does not want to open," he said. He tried again. nothing.

Safari Joe growled angrily and grabbed the man's collar. "Don't give me that crap, you miserable little blighter!" He was a lot heavier than he looked! "Either you open those doors..." Joe whipped out his hunting knife and placed its tip to the man's Adam's apple. "Or I'll skin you and sell the hide to your own customers."

The hunter spoke in a low intense tone, and for a moment, Kairo looked alarmed, truly alarmed. Then the expression changed. Nothing physically changed, but all of a sudden the alarm was plastic, fake. And that amused glint was back. "Mr. Gregor, there's no need to get violent. I do not wish to be trapped here any more than you do." He glanced down to the knife. "Please put that away, and let's figure this out. It's probably only computer failure, easily fixed." Joe didn't move, and Kairo's eye gained a nasty glitter. "Of course doing things the old way, you know little of computers..." His tone was still innocent... "...if you were to...skin me...I would hardly be in any position to let you out."

Beneath the little slime's good manners and pleasant speak, Safari Joe sensed something much more feral, and far less educated in his demeanor. Maybe he'd learned to act cordial, but he hadn't always. He wasn't sure how he knew that though...instinct? Intuition? Memory? "Fine," he growled, and released him. A small thread of blood trickled from the man's neck. "You work on this, I'll be in my room." With that, he stalked out.

Kairo laughed when he left and sealed off his office. The little brat wanted to leave; it was time to let him know who was in charge here. It was time to introduce him to the automatic defenses in this place, very handy for CONTROL officers and the like that came in trying to shut him down, but even more handy against rivals and those whom he had made enemies of.

He had expected the hunter to realize it a lot sooner, and he was a little disappointed. He had planned to spring this at that point but now would have to do.

Safari Joe whirled around at the bout of laughter. What was that miserable little puke up to? It was evident a moment later, though.

"Joe Gregor!" came a cheerful, less prissy voice from the loudspeakers. Joe narrowed his eyes. "This office seems to have a problem too...I'll have to check this thing." he sounded anything but regretful, he sounded like he was playing a game. "I have an escape route here, good for rivals and enemies, but there would be no way to get back in here, maybe you can find a way out." He laughed. "You're a smart man, aren't you?"

Safari Joe narrowed his eyes. So, this was the game, huh? "You'll regret messing with Safari Joe!" he yelled to the walls, not even knowing if he would be heard or not.

There were microphones in the cameras. An innocent tone that dripped sarcasm came back over the intercom. "Messing? Why I'm just trying to help you. Maybe the ratwolves got into the wiring, huh? Aren't they your favorite?"

Joe growled. "All right. I'll play this little game. Then we'll see who is the greatest hunter in the galaxy!"

This time the voice had dropped all innocence and etiquette. "We both know the answer to that, Gregor, as you have already found out."

There was no more. Safari Joe growled in frustration and moved as if to strike the wall in anger, but stopped himself. He didn't want to risk hurting his hand; he might need it to fight his way out. He'd known all along this guy was trouble.

He ran down the hall.

Safari Joe tried every single door in the place that he had found in his snooping, and every one of them was locked, and strong as steel. Hell, they probably were steel, the hunter thought in frustration. Much of this frustration was at himself...he should know by that point if his gut told him it was bad, to stay away, but no. He had to be all macho, and end up in this ridiculous situation.

He sighed and leaned against the wall, replacing his knife back in its sheath, making sure it stayed easily accessed. Now what? Think. Analyze the situation. Find out how it can be solved.. These were among the many things he had been taught of hunting, if one had the time to do it. Even in an attack by his prey, he could go through these steps quickly enough to do something about it. Situation? "Some crazy old gooney bird has me locked in his stronghold, that's what," he muttered to himself. Locked doors, but what about a fire escape? Or maybe a trapdoor on the roof? In the floor, was there a basement? He hadn't seen one, but that didn't mean there was none. Well let's find out, he said to himself.

As he searched, he heard the maddening voice come through the speakers. It must be dispatched through the whole blasted building! "By the way, when did you get that ridiculous nickname, Gregor?"

Safari Joe growled, but didn't answer. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

He thought about it though...

**

After his father's death, the twelve year old boy, almost a teenager, but still only a child, had stayed by his father's body for hours, only sobbing helplessly in the dense, humid jungle. If one ignored the obvious mutilation of the missing head, he looked the same: a rugged man with carrot red hair, a much lighter shade than Joe's own deep red, clad in khaki green boots and trousers, with a tan shirt and a brown vest. There were even the mud stains on the knees where both he and Joe had fallen in a patch of mud from a recent rainstorm earlier that day, only hours ago! Joe still smelled the sweat, and the smell his clothing, a heat resistant material, and the leather of boots, all of this was right, all of it. but then there was what wasn't right.

There was the tangy stench, almost like copper, hot copper, of blood, as it ran from the shoulders and neck. There was the smell of the other man's weapon, a burnt smell that his own weapon made, but this was from one different than what he carried. Worst of all was the most subtle; it wasn't identifiable, and yet even at that age he knew what that smell was, lurking jut under all the others: death. A barely discernible odor, a sickening, dull smell... Maybe it was his imagination, but probably not.

Joe stayed there for hours, until the bugs had started to swarm, and he ignored them.

He did not move until it was dark out, and the calls of the night creatures resounded thorough the jungle. The boy did not cry now, he could cry no more. He gasped for breath in sharp pants, from the amount he had sobbed, hyperventilating. But finally he was able to gain some kind of control over himself.

Stiffly staggering to his feet, he took a last look at his father and ran.

Joe knew that jungle inside and out, and even without light, after falling many times, and cracking his head twice on low hanging branches, he made it back to his father's ship. His bare arms and legs were scratched and bleeding from the thorns and the dirt when he fell, but he felt nothing, nothing at all. Only numbness. He got his mother on the radio.

Things happened fast after that. They were a day away from home, but she made it there in seven hours at top speed. She had CONTROL meet her there. Joe had led them to his father's body and told them what had happened in a low, unfeeling voice, almost as if he were not really there. He was questioned over and over, who was he? What did he look like? What did he say? The young boy told them all he could remember as his mother held him tight and sobbed into his unruly red hair.

They never jailed him. They found him, but after many months of court proceedings and record checking, and the like, it was determined that the act was committed out of the jurisdiction of any law, and therefore nothing could be done. The hunter that had killed a boy's father in front of his eyes and taken his head as a trophy would walk away scot-free.

Joe watched the killer's face a he walked cockily out of court. He studied it. He studied the black hair and dark brown beard, and the glittering, hateful eyes. he vowed he would remember them. He swore it.

As time went on, where his father was once talked about as a legend, Cody Gregor was now the object of scorn. he had let himself be killed by another hunter, and as the hunting profession became more brutal, often paralleling with that of bounty hunting, Cody Gregor's outdated method of hunting was also brought out to be scorned. Cody Gregor would never take a sentient being, and would never overhunt. When he killed, he made it fast and painless, and those he captured, he treated well. Joe Gregor had hoped to follow in those footsteps, but not now.

Joe's classmates would mercilessly taunt him, and he got in many a fight, but his father's training made him well suited for this, and he lost only one fight, against three others. but even then he sent one to the hospital. He was kicked out of school.

His mother grieved, but she grieved for both her husband and her son, for she had lost him as surely as her life mate. Joe was a different young man. He became more violent, less responsible and he shunned all the values his father had taught him in those few precious years. Joe himself came to hate his father for bringing the shame that others heaped on him. He threw away everything that reminded him of him, but one picture. As much resentment as he felt he could not bring himself to cast away all memory.

By the time he was eighteen, his mother was dead, killed in a space shuttle when it lost control and crashed in city square. The big tragedy of the year. The young man set out on his own.

He dropped the name Gregor. He was trying to build a reputation for himself and the name of shame weighed him down, haunted him, even after all those years. His father had become a legend all right, a legendary fool. The newly dubbed Safari Joe became his own legend in hunting circles, and he hunted as the other did. Sentients, feral creatures, even bounty hunting once in a while, and selling off his catches.

**

Safari Joe shook his head. The fierce jungle where his dad had died turned back into the wall he was staring at, and the voice of his own childish scream turned into Kairo's annoying voice. "Penny for your thoughts...or better yet give them to me free. That's all they're worth." That maddening laugh. Safari Joe ignored it and moved on.

He had his own prey to bag.

Part 10

Part 12

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