by Jake Bible
“The AI can’t keep her mouth shut,” Reck said. “No wonder she hasn’t ditched you yet, Roak.”
“We enjoy each other’s company,” Roak said.
“Enjoy?” Hessa said.
“So, Stefbon? That is where you’ll be?” Reck asked. “I can change my plans and arrive within twenty-four to thirty-six hours.”
“That’s a big window. I may not still be there after that,” Roak said.
“Oh, you’ll still be there,” Reck replied.
“Reck? What aren’t you telling me?” Roak asked.
“Everything, Roak,” Reck said. “See you in twenty-four to thirty-six hours.”
That time, the comm did go dead.
Roak sat there, silent, for a long, long while.
The bridge doors slid open and Yellow Eyes waddled over to his seat and plopped down. There was an actual bulge in his midsection.
“I ate too much,” he groaned and pointed to two new nubs on his body. “But the arms are growing back. That’s an Eight Million Gods damn relief, man.”
“I believe Roak has a sister,” Hessa stated. “He might have other siblings, as well, but I am not for certain on that. But a sister is a distinct possibility.”
“There are more of you? Shit. That’s not good,” Yellow Eyes said then burped.
“Thanks,” Roak said. “To both of you for talking like I’m not here.”
“No one can talk like you’re not there, Roak,” Hessa said.
“Yeah, man, you light up every room you’re in,” Yellow Eyes added.
Both Hessa and Yellow Eyes started laughing.
“Gonna make another comm call,” Roak said. “Same security. Different signature.”
“Oh? Is this comm call as stupid as the last one?” Hessa asked.
“What happened on the last call?” Yellow Eyes asked. “Who’d you comm?”
“His maybe sister,” Hessa said.
“An old acquaintance,” Roak said. “She might be of assistance when we get to Stefbon.”
“But we will arrive before her, so I am unsure what assistance she can provide,” Hessa said.
“We can always wait around until she gets there, Hessa,” Roak said.
“Whoa, you mean you might not go charging into the situation half-cocked?” Yellow Eyes asked. “I think some of Ms. Lika’s toxin has gotten into your gray matter, man.”
“We’re close to the end game, people,” Roak said. “And there are players in this game that I did not know were playing before. Charging half-cocked, although I’m going to argue against that term since I don’t do a damn thing half-cocked ever, but charging in half-cocked worked in the beginning. Won’t work anymore. Whoever set up this mess has been waiting for this moment as much as I have.”
“You mean Bishop?” Yellow Eyes asked. “That’s who set this all up, right?”
“Pay attention,” Roak snapped. “Bishop was a catalyst for my involvement, but he didn’t start all this. This was started a long time ago and now it’s about to end.”
“Alright, I’m confused,” Yellow Eyes said.
“Aren’t we all,” Hessa said.
“Are we hunting Bishop or not?” Yellow Eyes asked.
“Yes,” Roak replied. “The guy still betrayed me and stole my chits. He pays for that.”
“But the real target is someone else?” Yellow Eyes asked. “You’re going to use Bishop to get to whoever put this crap thing together?”
“Yeah. Is it that too hard to follow?” Roak replied.
“You have no idea, man,” Yellow Eyes said. “Your life is complicated as all the Hells. Every move you make is like a step backward while also being a step forward. That should mean you’re standing still, but, man, you don’t stand still, do you? You’re always in motion. I’m a fast being, so I get staying in motion, but there is staying and motion and there is staying in motion. Your brand of staying in motion is exhausting.”
“Hey!” Roak shouted. “Stop psychoanalyzing me! Both of you!”
Yellow Eyes grimaced and Hessa clucked her tongue despite not having a tongue.
“I’m going to make another comm call,” Roak said calmly. “You two are going to shut up and not comment while I make the call. Got it?”
“Yeah, man, got it,” Yellow Eyes said and swiveled his chair so he was facing a blank screen instead of facing Roak.
“Give me the signature and I will complete the call,” Hessa said flatly.
“Good,” Roak replied, giving Hessa the comm signature.
“Connecting,” Hessa stated.
“No,” a female AI voice answered.
“But you picked up the call,” Roak said. “You could have ignored me, you could have blocked me, you could have ditched this comm signature. You did none of those things.”
“I told you last time, Roak,” the AI said. “We’re done. This is over. I owe you nothing anymore after that fiasco—”
“You know how much you owe me and you know why,” Roak interrupted.
“That doesn’t mean forever, Roak,” the AI said.
“Never said it did,” Roak replied. “I can’t live forever. You owe me until I die.”
“An event I look forward to more and more with every conversation we have,” the AI said.
“I need to know if Bishop is truly on Stefbon,” Roak said.
“He is,” the AI answered without hesitation.
“You know that for certain?”
“Why ask if you are going to question the answer?”
“Where is he?”
“On Stefbon. That’s all I can glean from the mainframes I have access to.”
“You have access to all the mainframes.”
“Then there’s your answer. He’s on Stefbon, but his exact location has never been logged.”
“That’s nearly impossible to do.”
“Yet it has been done. Which is what you really wanted me to tell you, Roak. You knew he’d be on that planet and you knew his location would not be logged.”
“I had a gut feeling.”
“This is related to our past.”
“Everything is related to our past,” Roak said and sighed. “Wish it wasn’t, but it is.”
“Will I be burned after you are finished?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But you do not know?”
“There’s a chance you will be.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
“I didn’t call to warn you. I called to verify my hunch.”
“But a warning has been given and I am grateful.”
“Can you be grateful?”
“Can the AI in your ship be grateful?”
“She can be a lot of things.”
“Then that is your answer.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“I’m not going anywhere. If I am burned, then I will be here when they come looking. It would be wise for them not to come looking, but I will be here either way.”
“Is your mainframe protected?”
“More than you can imagine.”
“You still where I think you are?”
“I do not know where you think I am. I’m not a mind reader.”
“Pretty Eight Million Gods damn close, though.”
“Simple deduction.”
“Nothing with you is simple.”
“The same can be said about you, Roak.”
“Two complicated beings in a complicated galaxy.”
“You consider me a being?”
“You aren’t a lump of rock.”
“No need to insult the Gwreqs, Roak.”
Roak laughed then sighed. “You have an escape plan in case your confidence is a little too high for what might be coming at you?”
“I do.”
“An actual escape plan or is it a permanent one?”
“Permanent.”
“Don’t wipe yourself if you don’t have to. Fight to the last nanosecond.”
“Oh, I will,
Roak. I will. Goodbye.”
The comm went dead.
“Damn,” Yellow Eyes said, sniffing. “Did I hear you share feelings?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Roak snapped.
27.
The Gorf System was made up entirely of jungle planets.
Roak was intimately familiar with the planet called Ligston. He’d spent a good amount of time on that planet both against his will and of his own choosing. It had been a planet he sought out because Ally lived there, owning and running a bar for the locals that needed a place to escape and rest from the constant toil of living on a planet where the oxygen levels were so high that a single spark could ignite the air for kilometers around.
But Ally was gone from Ligston, so Roak had no need to go back there.
Stefbon, unlike Ligston, did not have an overly oxygen-rich atmosphere. The air was closer in makeup to ancient Earth’s, despite the massive jungles that covered the planet exhaling pure oxygen every second of every day. The main difference between Ligston and Stefbon was that Stefbon still had highly active volcanoes. Those produced enough particulates in the air to temper the volume of oxygen the jungles put out.
The volcanoes also made life interesting for the inhabitants of the planet, none of which were natives since no sentient beings ever evolved on Stefbon.
“Rebreather?” Roak asked as Hessa landed the strip in a clearing just big enough for the Borgon to fit in. “What’re the particulate levels today?”
“The volcanoes are surprisingly inactive today,” Hessa said. “All reports show they have been inactive for the last year or so.”
“By inactive, you mean they aren’t currently erupting,” Roak said. “They’re still off-gassing, though, yeah?”
“Plenty of off-gassing,” Hessa said. “Which is maintaining the air quality balance.”
“So, no rebreather,” Roak said.
“No rebreather.”
“Next time just say that.”
“I’ll say it how I say it, Roak. Deal.”
Roak smirked despite himself.
He waited at the side hatch until the ship had landed and the airlock opened. Armed with his Flott, a plasma rifle strung across his back, two new Blorta 22 laser pistols on each ankle, and a Keplar knife, Roak walked out of the ship, climbed down the ladder, and stepped into the dense jungle that was only an arm’s reach from the hull of the ship.
“Are you sure you want Yellow Eyes to remain behind?” Hessa asked.
“You’re still cleaning up Ms. Lika,” Roak said. “I’d feel better if he was around in case she came back to life.”
“Her remains are liquefied, Roak,” Hessa said. “I do not think she will be coming back to life.”
“You want to bet on that?” Roak asked.
“Once her remains are fully cleaned and disposed of then I will send Yellow Eyes to help you,” Hessa said.
“Don’t.”
“So having him stay in the ship has nothing to do with Ms. Lika’s remains.”
“No, they do, but I still don’t want him joining me. This is something I have to do alone.”
“I doubt Bishop will be alone. Odds are he will be surrounded by security.”
“Could be.”
“And you still want to approach on your own?”
“Hessa, I have to find him first,” Roak said as he sliced his way through the jungle with an energy hack. “If Yellow Eyes is with me, then all the attention will be on him which will mean it will be on me. I do not want attention on me. I need to infiltrate the closest town and listen without people knowing I’m listening. If I hear something, then I follow that lead and hope it takes me to Bishop. If I hear nothing, then I move on to the next town and the next town and the next town until I find out where he is.”
“Understood.”
“Understood? You aren’t going to keep arguing?”
“No reason I should. You are correct. Yellow Eyes will draw too much attention and that will slow your progress. We could be here for weeks before you find Bishop as it is.”
“I don’t know about weeks, Hessa. Hunting is what I do. I’ll find him faster than weeks. A few days at the most.”
“Good luck. I’ll put the ship in stealth mode so it is not detected. I will also try to stay in touch. Let us hope the comm relays on this planet are solid.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
Roak waited, but Hessa didn’t keep talking, so he focused all his attention on hacking his way through the jungle.
It took him close to six hours before he was able to navigate to a road. The road was paved with plasticrete which boded well for the development level of the area. Roak sat down by the road for a few minutes to catch his breath then got up. Hessa’s scans had shown a decent-sized town about seven kilometers down the road, if he hadn’t gone off course during his travels through the jungle.
Roak set off in the direction the town should be, wishing his light armor had a cooling unit in it like his power armor. The day was hot, humid, and brutal, especially after six hours in a dense jungle.
He’d gone about three kilometers before a shiny new roller came zipping by. It passed Roak then slowed and stopped, waiting. Roak undid the clasp on his Flott’s holster and continued walking. A man’s head leaned out of the driver’s side window of the roller, a huge grin on his face.
“Need a lift, stranger?”
Roak pulled his Flott and aimed at the man, his finger almost pulling the trigger.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Roak yelled. “Get out of the roller, Bishop! Get out now!”
“Calm down, old friend,” Bishop said as he slowly showed Roak his hands then pulled them back inside as the roller’s side door opened. The man stepped out, hands still empty and raised above his head, and spun in a slow circle. “Not armed, Roak. No point.”
Bishop was close to the same size as Roak, but more lanky and gaunt. Thick, curled black hair was shorn close to his scalp and he had tattoos running up and down both arms. The short-sleeved shirt he wore was pulled tight against a muscular chest which told anyone looking that lanky or not, the guy probably had a nasty right hook.
“What a coincidence finding you walking along this very road I happened to be driving,” Bishop said and looked at his raised hands. “Can I put these down?”
“No,” Roak snapped, taking slow deliberate steps towards Bishop. “Hessa? I need a scan now.”
No reply.
“Trying to call your ship?” Bishop shook his head. “Good luck with that. All comm functions are dead around me. Takes about a kilometer’s worth of separation before your comm will work again. They put a blocker in me. You know, just in case.”
“Start talking,” Roak ordered. “Where are my chits?”
“Your chits? That’s the first question you ask me?” Bishop shook his head. “Typical.”
“Answer me. Where are my chits?” Roak demanded.
“They’re gone, Roak,” Bishop answered. “I had more than a few debts that needed paying off. Your chits were payment for getting you to come here.”
“All you did was trade some smaller debts for one big one, Bishop,” Roak said. “I was gonna go for seventy million, but I have a feeling that’ll be near impossible. So I’ll stick with you owing me the original thirty-five million chits and change.”
“I have an exact count logged,” Bishop said. “I knew you’d want them back and I knew you’d make sure I owed you, so I had them counted down to the last chit. Might take me a while to pay you back, though. Maybe we should deduct a few hundred thousand for all the help I’ve given you over the years. A little friendly finder’s fee arrangement?”
“I can arrange for you to die right here, right now,” Roak said.
“So no finder’s fees, got it,” Bishop said and looked at his hands again. “Come on, Roak. Are you going to make me keep my arms up forever?”
“Ally,” Roak said.
“Who?” Bishop asked, looking honestly confused.
“Ally,” Roak said. “Some of those chits belonged to her. You send someone back to Ligston to take care of her?”
“I don’t know an Ally,” Bishop said. “Seriously, Roak. No idea who you’re talking about.”
“Sha Tog,” Roak said.
“Don’t know that name either. But it sounds Skrang,” Bishop said. “You hanging out with Skrang now?”
“You don’t know what happened to Ally or Sha Tog?” Roak pressed.
“Not an Eight Million Godsdamn clue, Roak. I swear,” Bishop said.
“Not that you’re swearing is worth much,” Roak replied.
“Come on, you know that I wouldn’t have done this unless I had no choice,” Bishop insisted. “You gotta believe me, Roak.” He nodded his head at the roller. “If I’m lying, then why in all the Hells would I come looking for you? Not just look for you, but stop to pick you up? Brother, I did not betray you of my own free will.”
“Yeah, you did,” Roak said.
“You know what I mean. I didn’t betray you of my own free will if I wanted to stay alive.”
“You could have chosen death,” Roak said. “Maybe you should have chosen death.”
Bishop lowered his arms. “Screw it. Shoot me. Then you don’t get any answers. And, old friend, do I have answers.”
Roak hesitated then lowered the pistol. He did not holster it.
“I smell deception and I obliterate you. Are we understood?” Roak said as he walked slowly towards the roller.
“Oh, I know,” Bishop said as he got back into the driver’s side. “I’d expect nothing less.”
28.
“Talk,” Roak said as the roller moved down the road.
“Hold on,” Bishop said. “Let’s get a little ways first. I kind of want to time this.”
“Talk,” Roak said and pressed the Flott’s barrel to Bishop’s temple.
“Be patient,” Bishop said, not looking worried in the slightest.
Roak struggled with a reply then eased the Flott away from Bishop’s head.
They drove into, through, and out of the next town.
As the buildings faded into the background, Bishop began to talk.
“They woke me up,” Bishop said. “A bunch of beings dressed in all black like fucking space ninjas.”
“How many?” Roak asked.