Prologue

Man has conquered Space before, and out of that conquest faint, faint echoes run still through a world that has forgotten the very fact of a civilisation which must have been as mighty as our own. There have been too many myths and legends for us to doubt it. The myth of the Medusa, for instance, can never have had its roots in the soil of Earth. That tale of the snake-haired Gorgon whose gaze turned the gazer to stone never originated about any creature that Earth nourished. And those ancient Greeks who told the story must have remembered, dimly and half believing, a tale of antiquity about some strange being from one of the outlying planets their remotest ancestors once trod.

CL Moore - Shambleau

...reports from the planet Hakidame that the infamous pirate ship 'Arcadia' has been sighted in the system turned out to be just a hoax caused by a malicious hacking of the local warp feed. The ship, captained by the notorious space pirate Harlock, has not been seen in Alliance Space since the end of the machine wars over eight years ago...

The bartender reached over and changed the channel to a sports broadcast. Only one man in the bar looked up; a tall man in pale grey spacer leathers, well worn and scuffed, with the sleeves rolled up to the middle of his lower arms. Scars ran along both arms; another ran across his left cheek and over the bridge of his nose, ending just under his right eye in a spattering of tiny burn marks. It did little to detract from an attractive face that had gotten him propostioned several times tonight by both sexes, politely refused. High cheekbones, a firm set to his jaw, and hazel eyes that looked out with a shrewd amusement from under a lock of brown hair. He had the look of a man somewhere in that indeterminate age between thirty something and forty-five; still youthful, no longer boyish, but not yet thickening in middle age. A closer look revealed that those nondescript leathers covered a lean but well muscled frame. A well worn holster rode low on his right hip, the grip of an antique pistol visible. Gloved hands curled loosely around a tumbler of some indeterminate amber liquid.

'Heh, ghost stories to scare kids at night,' the bartender laughed. 'Harlock's a myth. A fairy tale the Space Patrol spread to justify their pay cheques.' This got a laugh from some of the older barflies propping up the counter.

'No-one's seen him in years. Shit, the guy must be dead by now, I mean, he's supposed to be over a hundred years old, right?'

'The machinners worlds still have a bounty out on his head and those of his crew though. Lot of energy capsules for ghosts.'

'Dial-heads,' one of the old timers spat. 'Practically pissed themselves at the mention of his name during the war.'

'Yeah?' Another asked.'So how does that work then? They piss oil or some'at?' More laughter, and the conversation moved on.

A woman entered the bar, casually checking out the room from the doorway before entering fully. Tall, with long blonde hair falling to her waist, she was slender with a quiet, mature beauty that turned several heads. Dressed in a simple red roll-necked sweater over black trousers tucked into knee length boots which had vacuum seals on the ankles, suggesting a spacer. A long red coat swished heavily as she walked, occasionally revealing a glimpse of a wicked looking blast pistol. She had that confidence and timeless beauty of a woman who would age gracefully, and any guess of her age would probably have been ten years lower than it actually was. Smiling her refusal of a handful of propositions, she made her way over to the man at the bar.

'Is this seat taken?'

'It is now.' He smiled at her. 'You're late, I was getting worried.'

'Traffic was a bitch. But I got what we needed, and we're set. ' She grimaced as he knocked back the remnants of his drink. 'Seriously, your tastes have gone downhill lately,' she scolded. 'I don't know why you bother. You haven't been able to get totally blind, stinking drunk in over a decade..'

'I live in hope.' He replied looking into her eyes and smiling.

The bartender grinned as he polished a glass. Could still spot a couple a mile off, he thought to himself. No wonder he'd not been interested in anything else on offer; the woman was a serious hottie. Probably henpecked the guy though, he thought as he watched them leave, the man with a slight limp, favouring his right leg. Also had a few too many, he thought as the guy almost walked into the right hand doorpost. Then someone called for a drink and he thought no more of it.

Outside the bar, a hovercar waited, a large fat man in his fifties wearing thick glasses at the wheel.

'Are we on?' He asked. 'Captain?'

The tall man reached inside a pocket and pulled out an eyepatch which he tied in place over his right eye. 'Kei's got the location and you've snuck our ringer into the system, so I guess we are.' He grinned at the fat man. 'Nice work on that hack by the way. Seems they bought it.'

'Never in doubt, captain,' he grinned back. 'Now where is it we're going? '

'Out of town about five miles. An institution for the criminally insane.' The woman - Kei, said quietly. At the fat man's puzzled look she grinned at him and slapped him on the back. 'Relax, Yattaran. We're about to break out a serial killer...

Hakidame was an industrial planet, if somewhat off the main space lanes in the past few years. Like most such marginal worlds, in the years since the end of the Machine Wars, it had a mixed population, skewed mostly to naturals, with machinners a minority. There was a run down, seedy aura about the place. Once prosperous industries had no markets left in the aftermath, and factories lay idle, or were over run by local gangs looking for places to fight over.

On the outskirts of the old town, a large single storey building clad in grey plascrete lay inside a barbed wire compound, the old electrical fence now rusting because the power to keep it going was an expense the municipal board of the town couldn't justify any longer. Far cheaper to keep the occupants inside and docile with old fashioned locks, chains, guards and in the most violent cases, drugs.

The grounds of this eyesore were long gone to ruin. Local weeds thrived in the thin soil, and choked everything else into submission. Even the building, grey plascrete flaking off in large slabs, was smothered in some alien vine that dug its tendrils into the cracks in the wall. Small chittering insect-like creatures lurked in the shadows, though the few guards who wandered the area for a quick nicotine or other fix to break up the monotony knew to keep well clear of them; their bites and stings had a nasty effect on humans.

One pair of guards sauntered back towards the side door they'd slipped out of earlier, the taller and younger of the two shoving a vapourette back into an inside pocket. He was dark haired, freckled, and new to the job. The older, fatter man opened the door with a wave of his id over the card reader.

'There's talk they plan to move that kid out in a few days. The one in your area? Any truth to that?' asked the younger man. His expansive hand gestures covered the quick dexterity he used to slip a sliver of plastic between the door locks as they passed through.

The fat man smirked. 'That piece of shit turns eighteen at the end of the week. Word came down from on high they'll put him in the MaxSec wing of the Panopticon. Psychiatric evaluation be damned. Word around the precinct is the police chief pulled some strings, on account of his little girl being one of the victims in that mall spree they took him down for. Little shit won't know what's hit him, once some of those guys get a hold of him. Bad place for a pretty boy. He'll be handed round like a piece of candy.'

He smirked 'Still. There's not much left. After he bit that orderly's dick off, they've kept him so far under I doubt he can remember his own name by now. Wanna take a look, before they move him? Been a queue all day of folks wanting a souvenir before he goes. Six months in this place and only now do they all want a memento. Can slip you in if you like?'

'Why not? Get a picture to show the folks back home... I remember all the fuss when they were looking for him. Ten systems he went through before they caught him, wasn't it? Biggest manhunt since that pirate vanished. Then all the big hoohah over the fact that the guy responsible for the murder or disappearance of over a hundred women was a damn kid. What was he - fourteen, fifteen when he started?'

They wandered amiably through the empty corridors, passing only the occasional orderly on his rounds. The rooms in this wing were always locked, soundproofed and padded. Few sounds disturbed the air. The place smelled of mould; damp, musty, humid.

'Fourteen. Bit of a whizzkid before he went off the rails. Honours student, university fastrack, and one hell of a junior fly half. Official line from the bleeding hearts is he had a psychotic break after his mother was killed in front of him in a burglary gone wrong. Me, I think some kids are just wired wrong, know what I mean? This one just went off the grid, dealing, stealing, pimping himself out on street corners giving blowjobs or takin'it up the ass in dark alleys for the cash. What normal kid does that?' He stopped in front of a once-white door, with a dirty window in it at eye level.'Here ya go. I'll open it up. They keep him in restraints, so you'll be safe.'

'Long as I don't stick my cock in his mouth, right?' They both laughed. The fat guard keyed in his security number, and stood aside as the door slid open.

Inside, the padded walls of the cell were as damp and mouldy as the rest of the building, with a sickening stench of urine and shit added to the musty odour. The only thing in the small cell was a figure huddled against the far wall, arms strapped firmly into a dirty straightjacket. Dirty brown hair, stringy and unwashed, hung in rats tails around his face. He didn't even look up as the two men walked in.

'See what I mean?' The older guard said. 'Some lady killer now, eh?' He kicked the youth's outstretched legs. 'Hey, pretty boy, look up when you're spoken to!'

No reaction. He might as well have kicked a log. 'Can't get a picture if you don't show that pretty face, can we?'

The young guard knelt down and pulled the youth's hair to get him to raise his head. Blank brown eyes stared through him, and the harsh light of the overhead light lit up a sharp, lean face, almost starvation thin. High cheekbones, a slack mouth which might have once had a slightly pouting cupid's bow top lip over a full bottom lip. Stick thin arms could be felt through the straightjacket's tough material. A trickle of drool through those lips ran unheeded down a chiselled jaw. When the guard let go of his hair, his head fell back down slackly, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. 'Man, kid's totally wasted.'

'Doesn't even fight back when you fuck him either. Not that anyone wants to in this state.' The fat guard kicked the youth in the ribs, not even getting a grunt of pain. 'Used to be good money passing him round at first, looker like that. Plus, ya know, some guys just love gettin' some payback on women killers. I told ya, kid even took out the police chief's daughter, Nana. Cute girl. Sixteen. Gunned down in the middle of a shopping mall.' He kicked the youth again.'Sick fuck kept screaming about how he was killing aliens, if you can believe that? Alien plants that look like women! Says the reason they never found the bodies is that they burn up like paper when they die. That's why they put him on a psych ward instead of straight into Panopticon. Of course, if he'd been of age, he'd have gone straight to death row.' He turned to the new guard. 'So, fancy some alone time with him?' He sniggered again, snorting like a pig.

The younger guard smiled amiably. 'Actually, I thought I'd take him with me.' His hand lashed out and the supposed vapourette was jammed into the fat guard's neck. With a gurgle the man dropped to the floor with a thud. 'Finally, a way to shut you up, you sadistic slob.' He thumbed a commlink hidden under his collar. 'Any time you feel like joining the party, captain. I might need some help getting him out of here. Kid's a mess. Not sure I can get him out on my own.'

A movement behind him caused him to whip round, a small pistol leaping into his hand. The youth was on his feet, swaying slightly, and glaring out at the world from under that tangle of filthy hair like a feral cat. 'I can walk. Just get me out of this,' he snarled. He took two steps forward, and fell to his knees, fielded by the young guard.

'Damn, Tadashi, you're a mess, ' the guard muttered. He started pulling at the straightjacket's straps. 'The drool was a nice touch though. Palming your meds?'

'Who are you, how do you know me?' The youth's voice was cracked and harsh.

'Last time we met you were ten or twelve, I think. Name's Zack.' He managed to get the last buckle undone and helped the youth out of the jacket. As he peeled it away he couldn't contain a gasp of horror at the sight revealed. The young man's body was covered in sores, bruises, cuts and scars. 'Ah, shit. The captain's going to go completely nuts.'

'About what?' A deeper voice from the doorway. The prisoner looked up, to see a tall man in grey standing in the shadowed corridor. 'Zack, the next patrol's due round. We need to go.' He walked into the room and took in a hissed breath at the sight in front of him. His single visible eye - the left, as the right was covered by a leather patch - glittered with a fierce anger. Two strides took him to the prisoner's side. 'Tadashi?'

His outstretched hand was slapped back with more anger than force. 'Don't fucking touch me!' The youth snarled.

The man Zack had addressed as 'captain' didn't flinch. 'I don't have time for this, scamp.' He nodded to the younger man. 'Zack, watch the corridor. Kei's outside with a hovercar, but our window is only a couple of minutes before the alarms go back on.'

He knelt beside the prisoner. 'I've spent four years trying to track you down, scamp. You're a little too good at flying below radar for your own good. Now get to your bloody feet and come with me. Unless you have a better plan?' He held out his hand again. 'You can walk, or I can chuck you over my shoulder and carry you. Which won't be easy, as you're a damn sight bigger than the last time I did it.'

No response.

The older man sighed. 'Nevermind. Up you get.' This time when he took the youth by the arm, there was no resistance. Stumbling to his feet, he leaned heavily on the other man, but could only reach the door before he faltered. With no warning he leaned over and threw up all over the man's boots.

Zack winced, 'Oh, kid... you're gonna want that back!' His captain just sighed.

'I can't...' the youth gasped. Harlock shifted his grip to move the youth's arm to around his shoulder. 'Not far,' he murmured kindly. 'Zack?'

'All clear, captain.' He fell into place behind his captain, and the three made their way towards the side door without incident. 'Yattaran's managed to seal off the rest of the wing, but if we don't hurry..'

'Don't rush, Zack. Too much haste gets you into trouble. Door.' Zack leaned round to push the outer door open on the command. Once outside they both half guided, half dragged the exhausted youth to a waiting hovercar. The side door popped as they approached. In the doorway stood a tall young woman with long dark hair that fell down to her thighs, a silken sheath which floated around her as she moved towards them, her hips swaying with an ancient, seductive grace. Her hair drifted around firm, high breasts as she moved, revealing and concealing in a random dance. Her face might have inspired artists and poets alike, if not for the eyes, which were the inky darkness of the abyss.

'Wow...' Zack stopped in his tracks. 'Is she naked?'

'Cold night,' his captain remarked blandly. He unholstered the antique pistol from his gunbelt. 'Not your type, Zack.'

The woman swayed towards them, her hands outstretched, imploring. The youth gasped, pulling away from his helpers. 'Don't let her touch you!' His efforts pulled the older man off balance, and they both staggered sideways, knocking into Zack just as sharp thorns shot from the woman's hands and missed them by inches. With a practiced move the one eyed man fired off a single shot, hitting the woman in the middle of her forehead. She fell backwards, a ear splitting shriek causing all three to wince. The second she hit the ground her form was wreathed in pale blue flames. Within seconds her form was reduced to ashes, holding its shape for a moment, a carbonised effigy that was dispersed by the breeze until nothing remained.

Harlock re holstered his pistol with elegant ease. 'High time we were out of here. Kei, where are you?'

'Moved out of sight round the corner. You might want to get a move on, I'm getting some weird readings from the grounds.' A woman's voice over the commlink, tinny but assertive. Zack looked round warily.

'I don't see anything...'

Harlock pulled the youth closer, supporting him firmly with an arm around his waist. 'Look down. ..' he said softly. Zack followed instructions, peering at the ground in the gloom. 'I can't. .. oh holy crap... something just moved past my foot!'

'Don't panic. Get your pistol. Set for a wide area burst. It's the vines, they're growing. Get in front, sweep it in front of us.'

The arcing flame of the blaster lit up the crepuscular gloom, as Zack scorched the ground in front, causing the twisting vines to blister and curl as they charred. The youth leaning on Harlock coughed hard.

'There should be at least another,' he croaked out. 'Controlling the vines. You need to run... now!'

'Zack... '

'I can't see anyone. Captain, they're getting thicker, I... oh shit. Crap. Get it off me, get it off!' He shot wildly at his feet, and then struggled to get his feet clear of the clinging vines, which began to swarm up his legs.

'Stand still, Zack, and stop screaming like a girl.' Harlock told him calmly. He aimed his own pistol at Zack's feet. 'Just a little..'

Another ear splitting shriek pierced the night, and the vines loosened their grip. The faint glow of blue flames illuminated a tall blonde woman standing near the fence with a large, baroque styled bolt pistol. She holstered it in a smooth motion. 'Hurry!' She shouted. 'I think they heard that one!'

As if on cue, the alarm from the building went off, and spotlights began to come on in the compound. With Zack's help, they ran towards the woman, half dragging the boy between them. She moved aside to allow them entry to a waiting hovercar.

'What kept you? .. oh shit. Tadashi?' The blonde woman gasped as she saw the figure suspended between the two men. 'Is he...? She sniffed. 'And what is that smell?'

'He puked all over the captain's boots,' Zack said gleefully, helping the older man grab the youth. Kei gave them a hand, drawing a sheet over the youth's abused body. With a gentle hand she reached out and brushed one tangled mass of elf locks out of his face. He was shivering now, his eyes unfocused.

'He looks like death warmed over. What the hell did they have him on?'

'Too much.' Harlock told her grimly.

'He might have been trying to come off them himself,' Zack offered helpfully. 'I think he'd been faking it for a bit. '

Anything else he might have added was forgotten as a blaster bolt shot past him and scorched the surface of the hovercar. 'Damn it, now who's shooting?' He tried to pull the barely responsive youth down into some kind of safety, but let go as another blast sizzled past his ear.

'Security.' Kei swore as she returned fire. 'Ali, backup needed! Get your arse down here!'

'Five of them,' Harlock noted calmly. 'Zack, can you get Tadashi into the vehicle?'

'I'm trying. He's a little bigger than he used to be,' the young crewman grunted. 'I-' he crumpled to the ground as a sharp elbow caught him in the gut. 'Oh, shit. Captain, he's rabbiting!' He managed to get to his feet, but his attempts to take off after the younger boy ended before it began, as another hail of blaster fire kept him pinned behind the hovercar. All he could do was look on helplessly as the half naked youth stumbled off into the night.

He didn't reaĺly know why he ran. It just seemed to be what he'd been doing forever. Stumbling away from the gunfire, desperately searching for somewhere quiet. Somewhere else to be. Whatever the reasons these people had for rescuing him, well, thanks for nothing. He didn't plan on waiting around to get shot.

It started to rain after a few minutes. Within a short time he was wading ankle deep in runoff, drenched to the bone. The institution's lightweight pyjama bottoms were plastered to his skin, and he'd long since lost the sheet the blonde woman had tried to wrap around him. Pain lanced through his feet at every step, the filthy water stinging dozens of cuts. His hair, already stringy from neglect, clung to his neck and face. He didn't bother to push it out if his eyes. What was the point? Couldn't see shit through the downpour.

But in the end, his already weakened body couldn't go any further. He sank wearily against a wall in a dark alley, ignoring the scrape of brick on wet skin. No more. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep going. Well, better here, of his own choice, than locked up again at someone else's convenience. It was, after all, better than he deserved.

The rain kept coming, and he started to laugh. Maybe it would wash him away, bit by bit, down into the drains with the rest of the garbage. If it did, it wouldn't wash away his sins. Nothing could that. He knew. He'd tried. But at least the cold made his head feel clearer.

Harlock.. had he dreamed that? Standing in the doorway, single eye blazing? His chin fell forward onto his chest. That would be too cruel. And too late.

You never came, Yama... four years trying to track you down, scamp. Had he dreamt that bit? You promised. ..

'Tadashi?' She stood in front of him, a vision in red and black. How the hell had she gotten so close so quickly? He was never that careless. 'Hi scamp. We've been looking for you.' She knelt down, a few paces in front of him, seemingly not bothered that she was getting those nice clean boots filthy. And the familiarity was starting to annoy.

The rain had stopped.

And her scent... lemon and roses... where did he know that from?

Kei. Kei? Warmth, memories of warmth, and laughter, and arms holding him safe...

But not when I needed you... childish laughter. Not his? Memories he hadn't been able to afford in years.

Screw 'em.

'You don't trust me, lady?' He croaked. He stared at her with a wary anger from under rattailed locks. 'What did you expect, a little kid running into your open arms?' he sneered.

She shook her head. 'The guys wouldn't appreciate that you might need your space for a while. Harlock's first instinct is to cuddle you half to death. Me, I've been where you are. I know something of what you're going through.'

'I doubt it,' he snapped hoarsely. He watched as she took a steadying breath, the beginnings of tears in those vivid cobalt blue eyes. 'Ah, for fucks sake lady, I don't want your pity!' The hurt he saw then made him flinch a little inside, but there was something satisfying about watching her back off as though he'd physically hit her. Yeah, that's what it feels like...

'I'd be a little more careful with that mouth of yours, Tadashi. Seems to have become a nasty weapon since we last met.' This voice came from the end of the alley. If he turned his head a little he could just see the man standing in it. Tall, brown hair, hazel eyes - well, the left one. The right was covered by a black leather patch. Definitely a head-turner even with that scar across his left cheek . A face he'd seen in dreams and nightmares for years. The man from his cell? So, not a dream...? Priceless.

'Yeah. Try this out then: where the fuck were you when I needed you, cousin? It sure as hell wasn't where you promised you would be, was it?' Oh yeah. That felt better. Here's a thing no one else could do, right? Make the great, badass Captain Harlock flinch as though you'd smacked him in the face. 'I don't remember seeing you when mum died, having the life choked out of her by some freak with vines for arms. But hey, guess what - I managed just fine without you. Four fucking years and fifteen planets and not a sign of good old cousin Yama and his scary phantom ship. The great hero was off saving the universe I guess. Too busy for family? Well, you weren't needed then, and you're not needed now, you purblind turd.'

Kei made as though to reach out to him, or hit him, he wasn't sure which, and he flinched, seeing the hurt warring with fury on her face. But she stopped short, and turned away. Shivering, he lifted a hand, but it was either ignored or not seen. He let it drop into his sodden lap, and his head drooped. Pointless, at the end. All the times he'd played a scene out like this it hadn't been like this. He'd been on his feet, triumphant, not shivering in a corner, bone tired, fuzzy headed and bleeding. Maybe if he made him mad enough he'd end it. Please, Yama. Harlock. Whatever you want to call yourself. Just fucking shoot me already.

I killed them. I deserve it.

Nana...

He felt, not saw, the arm that lifted him up. Placed a jacket round him. Looked up into that hazel eye, that wasn't angry, or condemning. Just affection, and a compassion he didn't deserve.

'I fucking hate you,' he screamed hoarsely, his voice almost giving out.

'It's a start.' And his cousin's hand was ruffling his hair gently in the way he'd done so often when he'd been small, and done something he shouldn't.

And this, this was what he'd run from. But he couldn't run any further, could only hold onto a damp sweater, clutching the fabric with trembling fingers, and let the tears fall, letting strong arms hold him, feeling safe for the first time in years.

He thought the rain had started again, at first. But this time the rain was warm, running down his chest. And there were blue flames in the alley, and Kei calling, screaming into the night for someone.

You're in an alley, silly...

A heavy weight against his chest, and he was buried under damp leather and warm, red rain... so much rain.

His own body heavy, darkness closing in. A scarred face pulling Harlock's limp weight off him, and Kei's hands frantically pressing against his own chest.

Then nothing.