by Jake Bible
“Spickle!” Roak yelled at the Maglor as Pasha closed on the monkey man.
Spickle had made it to Pol and was trying to revive the old man. The Maglor leapt high into the air, almost to the ceiling, and avoided the blade swipe that would have taken his head right off. He bounced off the wall and launched himself across the passageway at the other wall as Pasha came in with the return swipe, missing by a micron.
Roak fired and had never felt more satisfaction in his life, almost, than when the blast tagged Pasha right between the shoulder blades. The woman lurched forward, but caught herself against the wall before she could fall on top of the still unconscious Pol. Roak fired again, but Pasha was already on the move, flipping out of the way then cartwheeling through the passageway doors that had begun to open up.
There were shouts and yells from the next passageway over as whoever had opened the doors was met by Pasha’s blades. Roak sprinted to Pol and checked the old man’s pulse. Alive, but weak. He grabbed Pol up, threw him over his shoulder yet again, and turned to retreat back the way he’d come.
“Roak!” Binter shouted from the passageway. “I see you, you son of a bitch!”
Roak didn’t reply. He ran. Instinct said it was the wrong way to go, but he’d figure out how to backtrack and get himself to wherever Hessa was waiting for him. And he had no doubt she was waiting. Hessa hadn’t been hacked and she hadn’t been stolen. She was out there somewhere. He needed to get someplace where he could wake up Pol and figure out how to communicate with the AI.
“This way,” Spickle said as he sprinted past Roak and turned a corner.
Roak had noticed the blood that bloomed across Spickle’s chest. But the wound wasn’t enough to slow down the Maglor, so Roak double-timed it and pumped his legs to keep up with the smaller being.
They rounded another corner and came face to face with five of Binter’s guards. Spickle was already leaping at them, the blades in his hands blurred by the speed of his attack. With Pol on one shoulder, Roak’s balance was off, so he didn’t bother to bring the H16 up. He fired from the hip, sweeping the passageway back and forth. Those that Spickle didn’t kill were torn apart by the carbine’s blasts.
Spickle stood there when the guards were dead and glared at Roak.
“You could hit me,” Spickle spat.
“Yeah, but I didn’t, so let it go,” Roak replied. “We have to circle back around in the direction we were heading before. Get us that way.”
“We use lift,” Spickle said and pointed at the end of the passageway. “Go down two levels.”
“You sure?” Roak asked.
“Better than go back that way,” Spickle said.
The weapons fire had stopped and the distinct sound of boots on metal echoed to them. Binter and his people had survived Pasha and were in pursuit. Roak had no illusions as to whether or not Pasha survived. He knew she did. Live again to fight another day and all that terpigshit. Or live again to fight in another fifteen minutes the way Roak’s day was going. Pasha was still on the hunt and would catch up with him eventually.
“Yeah, let’s avoid the Razer idiots,” Roak said and followed Spickle into the lift.
Roak set Pol down on the lift’s floor and turned to face the passageway. He began firing as soon as the guards rounded the corner, killing at least two before the lift doors closed. Then he ejected the magazine and replaced it with a fresh one.
“Only have three more magazines,” Roak announced.
Spickle didn’t respond. Roak glanced at the Maglor then turned away. Spickle had tears streaming down his furry face and was glaring nothing but death at the bounty hunter.
Roak let the Maglor have his hate. Hate was a great motivator for survival and Roak needed the Maglor for the time being. He had no intention of ditching the guy on purpose, but Roak was well passed trying to keep others alive. If the monkey man made it, then the monkey man made it.
The lift slowed and Roak took a knee and waited. The doors opened, but instead of Binter’s guards, it was more Edgers. Roak kept firing, dropping being after being. Heads exploded, chests burst open, legs were blown off, as Roak swept the barrel from target to target to target.
The weapon powered down just as the lift doors closed again.
“We need this level,” Spickle said.
“I know,” Roak replied, replacing the magazine with a fresh one. “Open the doors.”
Spickle glared and hit the button that opened the doors. The Edgers were still there, waiting, but Roak got the drop on them again, taking out the two closest before they could nail him with plasma blasts.
Roak took a couple of hard hits. One nailed him in the upper abdomen, but it was from a weaker weapon, so only elicited a pained grunt from Roak. The second shot hit him in his exposed shoulder, burning a gouge through the top of his muscle. The hand connected to the wounded shoulder had been steadying the H16’s barrel, but it fell away, limp, as Roak cried out and his body was forced to turn to the side.
Yet he didn’t stop firing. Even sideways and on one knee, Roak pressed the attack, dropping Edger after Edger.
Then the doors closed once more and Roak let the weapon fall from his hand and clatter to the floor. He looked at the wound in his shoulder and growled at it. It was incredibly painful, but superficial. The flesh was already cauterized and only a trickle of blood worked its way down his arm. He’d live.
Picking the H16 up once more, Roak got to his feet, switched out magazines, and nodded to Spickle.
“Stay close,” Roak said. “We’re taking this passageway.”
“They’ll be waiting,” Spickle said.
“Yeah, I know, so stay fucking close!” Roak yelled as the lift doors opened for a third time.
He ran straight out into the passageway. The half dozen Edgers left standing took aim, but they weren’t even close to fast enough. Roak shot two, dove and rolled across the passageway, his back coming up against the wall, fired three more times, hit another Edger, jumped up and dove again, barely avoiding having his head taken off by a volley of laser blasts, strafed the legs of the last Edgers, then slammed into the opposite wall as the men and women screamed at their sudden loss of limbs.
“Animal,” was all Spickle said as he approached Roak.
“From you, I take that as a compliment,” Roak said, getting to his feet.
He walked to the wounded and crying Edgers, all of them sans the lower halves of their legs, and put a blast between each of their eyes, silencing the pained complaining once and for all.
“Where to now?” Roak asked Spickle.
The Maglor shook his head, but pointed at the end of the passageway.
“Five more then next lift,” Spickle said.
Roak froze. The lift.
He turned and sprinted back to the closed doors, slamming his palm on the controls over and over until there was a chime and the doors opened.
Pol was still a crumpled mess inside.
“Thank all Eight Million Gods,” Roak mumbled as he scooped up the old man and threw him over his shoulder. The mumble turned into a gasp as Pol’s entire weight rested on Roak’s wound. “Son of a…”
“He live?” Spickle asked.
“He live,” Roak replied.
“Good,” Spickle said then led the way down the passageway. “Remember, five more then next lift and we go up one level.”
“Back to where we were,” Roak said.
“Past where we were,” Spickle corrected.
“That’ll lead us to where Hessa is waiting?”
“I not know,” Spickle admitted. “Pol know. I go where Pol last say go before find you again.”
“Fair enough,” Roak replied. “We’ll stick with that plan since we don’t have a better one.”
“Yes,” Spickle said. “No better one.”
37.
Three passageways’ worth was all the luck they had.
Binter arrived, guns blazing, a new squad of guards in tow.
Roak and Spickle wer
e pinned down next to a trash incinerator chute. They could retreat, but there was no guarantee that going back would lead to a different result. Binter had to have more guards coming. The things were multiplying like Kweets.
“Binter! Ya gotta let us go!” Roak shouted. “Forget us and get your own ass off this station before your Skrang buddies blow everyone to shit!”
“Don’t worry about me, Roak!” Binter yelled back. “I’ll kill you and get to the control room!”
“Are you daft? Have you lost your Ferg mind?” Roak shouted. “We’ve already talked about this! They’re going to blow this whole station in order to keep the new tech out of GF hands! The station’s defenses aren’t going to be enough against both Skrang and GF!”
“If the GF survive coming through the wormhole portal! The Skrang will have that covered!”
“They will,” Spickle said as he ducked as a plasma blast sheared off a hunk of wall close to his head.
“I know,” Roak said. “Which is why we need to get off this station and out of this system before they arrive. Otherwise, we’re trapped here even if we find Hessa.”
“Hessa can hide,” Pol muttered.
Roak looked down to see the old man staring up at him from where he’d been set on the floor when Binter’s men opened fire.
“You live. Good,” Roak said. “Can you call Hessa?”
Pol shook his head. “My implants are rebooting. Right now I am as helpless as you, Roak.”
Roak looked at the H16 in his hand. “Yeah, I’m so helpless. Old piece of—”
“We close,” Spickle interrupted, talking to Pol. “We only two passageways from lift that take us up to level you said we need be on.”
“Good. This is good,” Pol said. “May we continue on our journey? Time is of the essence.”
“That old brain of yours isn’t quite firing right yet,” Roak said. He cupped an ear. “Hear that? Guns. Plasma. Lasers. Pew pew and boom boom. We aren’t going anywhere until Binter and his people are put down or they get out of our way.”
The spoken thought was punctuated by a round of plasma blasts that scarred the walls around Roak, Spickle, and Pol. Roak growled low then let it build into a crescendo of rage.
He stood and charged Binter and the guards.
Rounding the corner, Roak shot the closest guard in the face, obliterating the woman’s features. Roak grabbed her body before it could fall and used it as a shield as the others concentrated on trying to take Roak out. The woman’s corpse shuddered under the onslaught, but Roak kept moving step by step, his H16 aimed around the dead woman, his finger fully depressing the trigger.
Being by being fell until only Binter was left.
“Would have been nice if you’d died back in the climate room,” Roak said.
“Would have been nice if you’d never set foot on this station,” Binter countered. The Ferg was hiding behind a pile of bodies. The pile was only two bodies stacked on top of each other, but that was more than enough cover for the diminutive Ferg. “I should have shot you in that bar when we first met. Would have saved me a huge headache.”
“Except you didn’t know the Edgers were coming,” Roak said. “You thought I’d find Pol and leave. Or find Pol and the old man would somehow spill the beans to me that he knew all about the Skrang tech. Or, you know, I don’t care what your intentions, end game, or current plans are, were, or ever will be.”
Roak tossed the dead woman at the Ferg then unleashed with what the H16 had left in its magazine. Binter ducked and seemed to burrow under the corpse wall, but Roak saw that move coming. He closed on the bodies and kicked the side closest to him as hard as he could. The tip of his boot collided with Binter’s nose and the Ferg let loose a muffled cry from under the corpses.
“There ya are,” Roak said and dropped the spent H16, pulling the KL09 from his holster. He knelt and shoved the pistol under the bodies and fired.
Binter screamed then went silent. Roak didn’t have the time to waste, but he had to be sure. He shoved the bodies away and grinned when he saw the half of a face the Ferg had left. Roak blew the other half off Binter’s body just to be sure it was over with Razer’s head of security.
“Can you help him walk?” Roak asked when he returned to where Spickle and Pol were cowering. “Can you?”
“Yes. I help,” Spickle said.
“Thank you, Spickle,” Pol said as he got to shaky feet and let the Maglor help him down the passageway. “It has been quite a day.”
Roak almost shot the old man. It was touch and go for a few seconds. But, Roak decided to let the tech live. Hessa was the only reason.
“Can you talk to her?” Roak asked. “Are you in contact yet?”
“My implants are coming back online,” Pol said. “Give me a moment to go over my checklist—”
“To all the Hells with your checklist,” Roak said. “Call her and find out where she is. Or have her tell us where to meet her. Do whatever you have to do to get us going in the right direction so at the end of this fun walk we are stepping through an airlock and onto my ship.”
“Of course,” Pol replied.
“Of course,” Roak mocked. “Of course! I’ve killed close to what? Fifty people today? Sixty? Watched an innocent woman get her face blasted away, but, hey, of course. Just of course.”
Pol ignored the raging bounty hunter, as did Spickle. Roak continued to rage as he searched the security guards’ bodies for magazines. He got lucky and found two that fit his KL09, then continued the rage monologue the entire walk until they reached the lift.
“Hold on,” Pol said. “We shouldn’t take this lift.” Pol tapped at his right eye. “No, no, we should definitely find an alternate route.”
“And that’s because…?” Roak asked.
“A group of Edgers is descending to this level right now,” Pol said. “Heavy weapons. Their second-in-command is ordering that every living being on this station that is not an Edger should be executed. Apparently, you have made them very mad when you bashed in their leader’s face.”
“Punched in,” Roak said. “Bashing takes a weapon; I punched the woman’s face to pulp.”
“I am unsure why you must make the distinction, but my apologies,” Pol said. “Punched in. Regardless of the mode of attack, you have the entire contingent of Edgers left on the station, which is…a little over sixteen hundred, all of them are now murdering the Razer residents in hopes one of those murdered will eventually be you. We should move to a new location.”
“You’re gonna blame me for this?” Roak asked, standing his ground in front of the closed lift doors. “That’s how you’re going to play this, old man?”
The doors dinged then started to open. Without looking away from Pol, Roak shoved the barrel of the KL09 through the gap in the doors and fired until it powered down. By that time, the doors had completely opened.
“Spickle?” Roak asked, eyes still locked on Pol.
“They dead,” Spickle reported. “We move?”
“No, we leave them,” Roak said and changed magazines.
He motioned at the lift.
“In you go, old man,” he ordered. “You too, Spickle.”
The two short beings eased past Roak and into the lift. Roak surveyed the empty passageway for a moment then followed them in. Roak had to shove a couple of legs out of the way for the doors to close.
“Check them,” Roak said.
Spickle started stripping weapons off the dead Edgers and presenting them to Roak.
“No, too small. That? I don’t think that pistol even works. Look at it. Yeah, I’ll take the Blorta. I’ll take those KL09 magazines too. You want something, Spickle?”
Spickle patted the blades on his belt then nodded at Pol. “I help Pol walk.”
“Good call,” Roak said, newly outfitted and ready for the next step in their never ending nightmare flight to get off Razer. “You help Pol walk.”
“I am working through the complicated communication protocol your ship�
��s AI gave me,” Pol said. “She is very thorough and, if I might go out on a limb here, slightly paranoid.”
“She’s plenty paranoid,” Roak said. “She thinks she’s less paranoid than me, but she’s not.”
Pol blinked at Roak a couple of times then frowned. “Oh, she is not happy you said that.”
“Not happy I said what? That she’s paranoid? How can she even know what I said? Are you miked?”
“No, your own implant is back to being active,” Pol said. “Hessa has turned it on since you being tracked is no longer an issue. It is why she turned it off to begin with, so that the Edgers could not find you. They are surprisingly well appointed when it comes to technology.”
“Ya think?” Roak snapped.
“Yes, I do,” Pol responded, ignoring the sarcasm.
“Hessa? You there?” Roak called over the comm.
“I am, Roak,” Hessa replied. “It is good to hear your voice again. I am sorry I severed our connection, but it was necessary in order to keep you safe.”
“Not blaming you at all,” Roak said. “That’s old shit. Right now I need you to talk us to where we can meet you. Where’s the ship?”
“I am in stealth mode approximately three hundred kilometers off the station’s starboard side,” Hessa answered.
“Yeah, that means zero to me,” Roak said. “How soon are you going to get back and where do I need to go?”
“We need go,” Spickle said.
“We need go. Whatever,” Roak said to the Maglor. “Hessa? Talk to me.”
“Right now, in order to avoid more Edgers, you will want to take the lift up six more levels,” Hessa said.
“That’ll get us to where? A hangar? Is there one where you can land without the Edgers trying to blow you apart?”
“Hangar? Oh, no, there are no hangars I can dock in,” Hessa said.
“Is this an external passageway with an airlock you can connect to?”
“No, no airlock either,” Hessa said.