by Jake Bible
Roak came up onto his feet and shoved the guard in need of dental work at the others. One dodged, the other didn’t. Roak, with stun baton still in hand, went for the one that had dodged. The man cried out as he received several thousand volts to his throat then that cry was choked off as his voice box was turned into smoking flesh.
Roak relieved the guard of his carbine and put three rounds in each of the others, just to be sure, then whipped around to take aim at Shava Stemn Shava. He found his view blocked by Ple’s Defta Stinger. Ple pressed the pistol to Roak’s left eye.
“Not bad,” Shava Stemn Shava said as he stood up from the couch and walked his bulk over to the two men. “Not bad at all. I can see why you’ve lived as long as you have. A decade or two younger, and a thousand hours of training, I’d put you in the Orbs to fight. But that is not your fate today, Roak.”
Roak didn’t say a word as Shava Stemn Shava pressed up close to him, barely leaving space for Ple to keep the pistol pressed to Roak’s eye.
“You will do the job I have brought you here to do and you will do it for free,” Shava Stemn Shava stated, his breath hot in Roak’s ear. “Then we will decide your fate.”
“I don’t work for free,” Roak said. “I named my terms. They are nonnegotiable.”
Shava Stemn Shava ran his tongue across his lips. Then he grabbed Roak by the neck and lifted him off his feet. It was meant as an intimidation tactic. Roak knew that. He’d seen it coming.
As his boots came off the ground, and the air was squeezed from his throat, Roak punched Ple straight in the face, taking the Defta from the surprised man’s grip in one fluid motion. Then he jammed the pistol between Shava Stemn Shava’s lips, the barrel clinking against teeth, a sound that rang out in the room.
“Sir,” Ple said as he recovered from the attack. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of one hand and placed the other on his employer’s huge shoulder. “Agree to his terms.”
Shava Stemn Shava eye’s widened. Roak’s attack was surprising, but Ple’s words were obviously even more so.
“He’ll take the job,” Ple said then focused on Roak. “Correct?”
Roak’s vision was beginning to swim as Shava Stemn Shava held him up off the ground, but he managed to nod while keeping the pistol in place. He had maybe a couple seconds before he passed out from lack of oxygen or his neck was snapped by the obese man that gripped him. Roak’s finger squeezed down on the trigger.
“No need,” Ple said. “Sir? He’ll deliver.”
Shava Stemn Shava’s eyes darted towards Ple then Roak was falling.
He coughed and rolled backwards before jumping back to his feet, the pistol aimed at Shava Stemn Shava.
“I believe you chipped a tooth,” the huge man snarled as he spat blood onto the floor. “Cut my tongue.”
Roak waited. Ple waited. Shava Stemn Shava nodded.
“Very well,” he said. “I agree to your terms.”
The tension in the room lessened, but not by much.
“Now, Roak, how do you propose I make this on-record confession?”
12.
Shava Stemn Shava did not look pleased once the vid comm message was sent to an undisclosed comm signature. He looked even less pleased as he had Ple make arrangements for the availability of seven million chits once the job was complete. The look worsened as Roak sat down and motioned for Shava Stemn Shava to do the same.
“I’ll need records,” Roak said. “Everything you have on Jonny Nebula.”
“No. Out of the question,” Shava Stemn Shava replied. “There is proprietary information in those records that I will not divulge. Ple will provide what information you are allowed to see and there will be no further discussion on this point.”
Roak thought on that then nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll take what you give me.”
“Yes, you will,” Shava Stemn Shava replied. “You will also take one more thing. Ple will accompany you on this job.”
“I work alone,” Roak said.
“Not always,” Shava Stemn Shava said as he wagged a fat finger. “I know you have worked with partners, even teams, in the past. Gaibah Huup is evidence of that. You prefer to be the lone rogue, yes, but sometimes circumstances dictate you cooperate. This is one of those circumstances.”
Roak thought he saw Ple’s cool facade crack just slightly, but it was hard to tell with the man.
“I call the shots,” Roak stated. “He gets in my way and he gets left behind.”
“Of course,” Shava Stemn Shava replied.
“He pulls anything and I put a blast between his eyes then send that neck frill back to you in a box,” Roak said.
“That seems extreme, but I understand what you are saying,” Shava Stemn Shava said. “Ple?”
“I will neither get in Roak’s way nor pull anything,” Ple said. “Our goal is the same.”
“One more thing,” Roak said and pointed at Ple. “What if I do find Jonny Nebula alive? Is that why he’s coming with me?”
“You will not find Jonny Nebula alive,” Shava Stemn Shava said without hiding his exasperation. “And Mr. R is accompanying you because he represents my interests and may be able to grant you access to areas of the galaxy you may not be granted access to otherwise.”
“I doubt that,” Roak said.
“I do not,” Shava Stemn Shava stated. “We all have our circles of influence, Roak. You are walking into mine.”
Roak was not in the mood to argue. He was tired, hungry, pissed off, and did not feel like pointing out that his entire job was about cracking circles of influence to get at a bounty. He sighed and nodded.
“Will that be all, Roak?” Shava Stemn Shava asked. “Because I do have an entertainment empire to run. I would like to get back to that.”
“That’s all,” Roak said.
“Then Ple will show you out and you may show him what your first step will be,” Shava Stemn Shava said. “Ple?”
“This way, Roak,” Ple said and motioned to the doors where the bodies of the guards were being carried out by maintenance bots.
Ple walked Roak out and the doors closed without another word from Shava Stemn Shava. There was a hum to the onyx tower that hadn’t been there before and Roak realized it was made by voices. Dozens and dozens of voices coming from the many levels and rooms that filled the tower.
“Something big happening?” Roak asked.
“Hmmm?” Ple responded then glanced around the tower reception area. “Oh. No, nothing out of the ordinary. Simply another fight night. It takes more than an army of coordinators to make the Orbs happen.”
They reached the doors and guards opened them for the two men. Ple walked out without hesitation and Roak followed. As they crossed the walkway, Roak took one last look over his shoulder at the onyx tower.
“I’ll want to see the Orbs,” Roak said. “Not yet. But before we leave Jafla Base.”
“Understandable,” Ple said. “I’ll make arrangements.”
Standing at the lift was the guard with the broken nose care of Roak’s forehead. The guard held out Roak’s weapons.
“Thanks,” Roak said as he strapped his KL09 and knife to his belt.
The guard growled then walked across the walkway to the onyx tower, leaving Roak and Ple to enter the lift. The doors closed without any guards joining them. Ple’s finger hovered over the buttons.
“What is the first destination?” Ple asked.
“Food,” Roak said. “And drink.”
“I know just the place,” Ple replied and depressed one of the buttons. “Incredible food, best drinks, and discrete so we may talk in private.”
“Do we need to talk in private?” Roak asked.
“I believe we do,” Ple said.
They waited in silence until the lift came to a stop and the doors slid open. Roak was surprised to see an empty hallway instead of a bustling corridor or thoroughfare. Ple smirked and left the lift, indicating with a nod for Roak to follow.
The hallway
was adorned with wood that was worth almost as much as Roak’s ship. No paintings or holos were hung, only the exquisite workmanship of the wood was on display. Ple walked the hallway at a casual pace then held up a hand once they reached the end.
“You will need to change,” Ple stated.
“I don’t think so,” Roak replied.
“Armor, even the style and quality of yours, is not permitted within the establishment,” Ple said. He withdrew his pistol and held it out. A robotic arm shot from the wall and snatched it before disappearing back into the paneling. “Neither are weapons of any kind.”
Ple took a couple of steps forward and a red light scanned him then turned green once it had made two passes. He turned to regard Roak.
“There are no exceptions,” Ple said. “It is for everyone’s safety including yours, Roak.”
“I don’t have anything else to wear,” Roak said as he unstrapped his KL09 and held it out. That and his knife were squirreled away by bot arms. “I left my evening attire on my ship.”
A panel slid open and a stylish pair of pants with matching shirt were extended. A smaller panel at the bottom of the wall opened and a pair of shoes were produced.
Roak growled, removed his light armor, then took the offered outfit and put that on. The shirt was a little tight in the shoulders, but otherwise everything was a perfect fit.
“This way,” Ple said once Roak passed the security scans.
They went through a door into a lounge where several small tables were occupied by folks either dressed similarly to Roak or were wearing their own, more stylish clothing. Ple nodded to a Cervile woman that was standing by a small podium set off to the side. The woman’s whiskers twitched, as did her feline tail, but her smile was welcoming despite the quick up and down glance she gave Roak.
“Mr. R. What a pleasure,” the woman said. “Your table is ready.”
“Thank you, Muscaere,” Ple said and followed the woman to a corner table where both seats had their backs to the wall. “A menu for my friend and my usual, if you please.”
“Of course,” Muscaere replied and hurried off with an extra swish in her tail.
“Friend of yours?” Roak asked.
“Not in the way you imply,” Ple said. The surface of the table flashed white. “You’ll want to lift your hands.”
As Roak lifted his hands from the table, a menu appeared in front of him. In front of Ple appeared a glass of amber liquid and a plate of what looked like fried insects.
“Moltrans?” Roak asked. “This place uses molecular transport to serve its customers?”
“It does,” Ple said.
“How does it get around the mixing of inorganic with organic components? Most moltrans units can only deliver one or the other at a time,” Roak said. “Unless you want to pay a lot of aftermarket chits.”
“Do you see any prices listed on the menu?” Ple asked.
Roak studied the culinary offering and shook his head.
“That is how. The moltrans unit in this lounge would bust the Galactic Fleet’s quarterly budget,” Ple said and sipped at his drink before popping one of the insects into his mouth. He chewed slowly then swallowed. “All obstacles can be overcome with the right price.”
“I’m beginning to see that,” Roak said.
“Have you decided?” Muscaere asked when she returned. “Or may I suggest something?”
“I’ll have the TLonga squid,” Roak said and smirked at the hostess. “Which is extinct.”
“We have the best sources,” Muscaere said and nodded. “To drink?”
“Whatever he’s having,” Roak said.
“Both excellent choices,” she replied. “Your drink will be delivered shortly and your squid in a few minutes. Please enjoy.”
She gave a bow of her head and sauntered off to check on the other patrons. The table flashed white and Roak lifted his hands again. The menu disappeared and was replaced with a glass of amber liquid just like Ple’s.
“Cheers,” Ple said as he lifted his glass.
Roak lifted his, clinked it to Ple’s, then sniffed and tasted the drink.
“D’revian rust?” Roak said. “I think asking for seven million chits was too low.”
“It was. Shava Stemn Shava would have paid five times that, if he had to,” Ple said. “But the deal is done.”
“It is,” Roak said. He took another sip then set his glass down and pointed at Ple. “When can I get the files?”
“I have them here,” Ple said and withdrew a small disc from his pocket. He offered it to Roak then snatched it back. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t have implants. A moment, if you will.”
He gestured to Muscaere then waved the disc in the air when he had her attention. She nodded, and in about two seconds, the table flashed white and a small vid tablet appeared. Ple slid the disc into the tablet and handed it to Roak.
“There you go,” Ple said. “Every bit of information that Shava Stemn Shava is willing to let you see.”
Roak scanned the files and frowned. “This is it?”
“That is it.”
“Is any of this information any different from what I can’t find some other way?” Roak asked.
“It would take you a lot of work, but no,” Ple said. “We have saved you a month’s worth of research. Not to mention the travel time to the various archives. Some of this is only known to private collectors.”
Roak searched back and forth among the files. He stopped randomly here and there, flicking his fingers towards the top right corner anytime he saw something that piqued his interest. After a few minutes, he set the tablet down and relaxed into the expensive chair.
“Saw a name pop up more than once,” Roak said. “Per’teen Kilk? Who is that?”
“You don’t pay much attention to the Orbs, do you?” Ple asked. Roak didn’t respond. “Hall of Fame trainer. He only manages now that he’s gotten older. Let’s his offspring do the training.”
“Leforian, right?” Roak asked. “Didn’t see a pic of him.”
“Right,” Ple said. “The quad-armed races make the best trainers.”
“I can imagine,” Roak said. “We’ll go speak with him after this. Is he here on Jafla?”
“That I don’t know,” Ple said. “He could be. If not, then I will arrange transportation to whatever–”
“We take my ship,” Roak said.
“I have access to top-of-the-line luxury yachts,” Ple said. “Why travel in a utilitarian military vehicle when you can travel in style like I doubt you’ve ever experienced?”
“Not sure if that was an insult or not, but I don’t really give a good Eight Million Godsdamn,” Roak replied. “We’ll take my ship. I trust it.”
“Very well,” Ple said. “The stealth may come in handy. Despite Shava Stemn Shava’s unlimited budget, I have yet to convince him to utilize the tech.”
“What do you convince him to do?”
“Not much, really,” Ple said. “Shava Stemn Shava makes up his own mind. I advise at times, but mostly I make sure he stays safe.”
“He won’t miss you?”
“Not on Jafla Base,” Ple said.
“If those guards you sent at me are any indication, then you may have some work to do with your boss’s security detail,” Roak said.
“There are other ways to keep Shava Stemn Shava safe,” Ple said, but did not elaborate. Nor did Roak ask for any elaboration. “Ah, your food.”
The table flashed white and a steaming plate of TLonga squid appeared. The smell coming off of it made Roak’s stomach growl and Ple’s lips twitch with a smile.
“Eat,” Ple said. He tapped the skin by his left eye. “I’ll make arrangements for us to meet with Per’teen Kilk.”
Roak ate. He cleaned the plate, ordered a second one, then cleaned that and nodded to Ple once he’d finished.
“What else?” Roak asked, downing his drink. It was instantly replaced without him asking. “You said we needed privacy. So far, you haven�
�t said anything requiring that.”
“Yes,” Ple said and steepled his fingers. The frill around his neck pulsed a couple of times then calmed and smoothed down. “I fear that we are not the only ones looking for Jonny Nebula.”
“So?” Roak replied. “Not surprised. You kicked up some dust in snaring me. That’s drawn attention. I expect we’ll be shaking tails for most of this job.”
“No, no, I believe there is someone already on the search,” Ple said. “I cannot say for certain, but I found it very strange that Shava Stemn Shava all of a sudden wanted to track Jonny Nebula down.”
“Like he caught wind of this other search and started to panic?”
“Shava Stemn Shava does not panic,” Ple said. “But, in a way, yes.”
“And what really troubles you is that you didn’t hear about this search first,” Roak stated. “That’s your job and your boss caught wind before you. Kind of a hard kick to the pride.”
“Kind of,” Ple said.
“Any idea who the other searcher may be?” Roak asked. “I’d have to guess it’s one of the syndicates. Nothing short of that, or Galactic Fleet, would make your boss nervous.”
“Again, Shava Stemn Shava does not panic nor does he get nervous,” Ple said. “But, again, in a way, yes.”
Roak grinned.
“What?” Ple asked.
“You didn’t deny that the Galactic Fleet might be involved,” Roak said.
“Anyone could be involved,” Ple said. “That is my point. I do not know.”
“I’ll put out some feelers,” Roak said. “Might be a hunter or two on the job. If that’s the case, then I’ll learn about it.”
“Which is why I wanted to inform you of the possibility,” Ple said. “That, and if there is competition, then our timetable may need to be moved up.”
Roak cocked his head. “Timetable?”
“You didn’t think you would have forever to complete the job, did you?” Ple asked.
“No,” Roak replied. “But no one mentioned a timetable.”
“Shava Stemn Shava is in negotiations to possibly sell the Orbs league to a group of investors,” Ple said. “He needs the body before he can complete the deal. The final talks are set to begin in one month. That gives us two weeks.”