ROAK: Galactic Bounty Hunter

by Jake Bible

  “He refused to pay me and then tried to have me killed,” Roak said. “He failed on the killing part and I’m trying to rectify the non-payment part.”

  “Yes, that would be more than enough reason for him to attempt to hide from you,” the voice said. “There are obvious threads that must be investigated further. May I call you back at this comm signature?”

  “Your AI processors need more time?” Roak asked.

  The voice sighed. “Please do not be insulting, Roak. I am an artificial intelligence, yes, but that does not mean I am omnipotent. The secrets of the universe do not unfold before me any more than they do for you. I process data faster than all living creatures, but even I am subject to the laws of physics. I must investigate further to find accurate information regarding Boss Teegg’s location.”

  “Okay, sorry, didn’t mean to insult you,” Roak said.

  “And yet you did,” the voice replied. “It is a character trait that may end up becoming a fatal flaw at some point in your life. There is an eighty-seven percent probability of this.”

  “Didn’t have much problem investigating that, did you?” Roak chuckled. “I’m joking. I appreciate anything you can find out.”

  “Thank you,” the voice said. “I will be in touch within ten minutes.”

  The comm went dead and Roak leaned back in the seat. He’d always liked that AI. She, or he depending on the voice and persona it wanted to take at any given time, was dialed into heavy Galactic Fleet intel. Roak had never known her, or his, name, and the AI had never offered it. It was an interesting relationship.

  The comm chimed and Roak answered to find Bishop on the other end.

  “Not a definite, but try the Shor Station,” Bishop said. “Rumor is Boss Teegg has some whores stashed there. The guy’s reputation is he can’t go long without getting some.”

  “Yeah, I heard that too,” Roak said. “But I don’t know if he likes getting laid so much that he’d risk me tracking him down.”

  “You never know with some guys,” Bishop said. “Anyway, that’s all I’ve got. Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Roak replied. “I’ll let Roak know.”

  Bishop laughed. “Yeah, you do that. See ya.”

  The call ended and almost immediately another came through. Manigot Station.

  A third returned call. Cverx Colony, ask for Weldon.

  A fourth call. The Fegh asteroid.

  Last one.

  “He is on the move,” the AI voice stated. “If you have been told Manigot Station, then you are already too late. I have the transponder code of the ship he has bought passage on, but their security is tight and you may not be able to track them.”

  Roak listed off the other possible destinations he had been given by the previous callers.

  “All valid possibilities,” the AI said. “They are worth investigating. But you will want to hurry. Like I said, he is on the move. You have him running scared.”

  “He’s got nothing to be scared of if he pays me the chits he owes me,” Roak said. “I really don’t want to kill him.”

  “Yes, I have heard you say that before,” the AI replied. “Yet, the galaxy is dotted with the corpses of people you did not want to kill.”

  “All they had to do was pay me,” Roak said. “It’s not that hard. Pay me and things don’t get ugly.”

  “You are a walking contradiction,” the AI said. “It is why I maintain our relationship despite its obvious risks. You fascinate me.”

  “Glad I can help brighten your day,” Roak said. “Thanks for the intel. Track me down if you ever need some physical work done.”

  “Yes, I will,” the AI said then disconnected.

  Roak had the Shor Station, Cverx Colony, and Fegh asteroid to investigate. Unfortunately, they were all at least three wormhole portals apart from each other. Finding Boss Teegg was not going to be easy. Good thing for Roak, he was extremely good at the non-easy hunts. Hell, it’s why Boss Teegg hired him in the first place. The man was about to find out why Roak was worth the amount of chits he charged.

  First thing first, Roak needed new wings. He had to ditch N’jeak’s fighter as soon as humanly, or inhumanly, possible.

  The console in front of him bleeped and he settled into the pilot’s seat, strapping the safety harness down tight just in case his exit from the wormhole portal became complicated.

  The reality around him stopped streaming by in a quantum blur and he blinked back into solid existence. So did the two ships that appeared behind him from different sectors of the galaxy. Roak took note, but didn’t change his flying behavior. He’d keep an eye on them. That was about all he had time to do. Unless they engaged him directly, he’d have to let them tail him for a while.

  He’d be ditching N’jeak’s ship shortly, so they could do whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t try to follow him in whatever new ship he found.

  Roak checked his scanners and smiled as he found a decent-sized colony on the third planet in the system he’d popped into.

  “Zuus Colony?” he said aloud as he punched in the coordinates. “Never heard of it. Let’s see why you picked this one.”

  21.

  There was a reason Roak had never heard of the Zuus Colony. It was nothing but seed farmers and seed exporters. Turned out that the entire colony’s economy ran on the industry of cloning and strengthening seed lines for the multitude of agricultural planets, asteroids, and stations that were spread out across the galaxy. Basically, the colony tried to recreate all types of climates and atmospheres in contained, artificial environments housed within thousands upon thousands of domed buildings.

  It meant that N’jeak’s fighter stuck out like a sore thumb and the pickings of ships for Roak to choose from was very limited. Not that the quantity of ships was an issue; there were plenty of vessels at the planet’s main surface space port, just that the types of ships pretty much ran the gamut of agricultural and shipping vessels and that was it.

  He set down in a landing area on the outskirts of the space port. He hoped the scarcity of traffic would limit his visibility, but he was wrong. The second he opened the external hatch and lowered the ladder, he could see that the few farmers and shippers that were out that far all had their eyes on N’jeak’s ship. And on Roak.

  “Howdy,” Roak said as he touched boots on the tarmac. “How are you all doing today?”

  Roak did not care at all how any of them were doing. He rarely cared how anyone was doing except for a few special acquaintances. But he’d found over the years that making nice with folks that did not matter in the least to him helped ease his way through galactic society. It also kept many from calling the local law the second he set foot on a planet or station.

  Roak saw a short, squat gentleman eyeing N’jeak’s ship and Roak gave the man a wave.

  “Excuse me? Sir? I wonder if I could trouble you with a question or two?” Roak said as he walked over to the gentleman.

  The man eyed the blaster on Roak’s hip, but didn’t let his eyes linger long. He glanced up and squinted at Roak.

  “How’s that?” the man asked.

  “How’s what?” Roak replied.

  “What’re ya questions?” the man responded. “Whatcha need?”

  “Yes, well, my ship has developed some serious issues with its ability to navigate trans-space,” Roak said.

  “That’d make it hard to travel,” the man said.

  “Yes, exactly,” Roak said.

  “You need a working trans-space navigation system or you could end up lost forever,” the man continued.

  “Right, I know, it’s why I need–” Roak tried to say.

  “I heard once that a man lost fifty years of his life because his trans-space navigation system wouldn’t lock onto a working wormhole portal,” the man interrupted. “What a shame. Losing fifty years of your life over something as silly as a ship’s malfunction.”

  “Many people have lost a lot more than fifty years over ship malfunctions,” Roa
k said.

  “Like sixty years, ya mean?” the man asked. “Or even seventy years?”

  “I was thinking more about the lives lost,” Roak said. “Can’t get those back.”

  “Can’t get fifty, or sixty, or seventy years back neither,” the man said. “Nope. Can’t do it. Not unless you’re from one of those cults that believe in time travel.”

  “I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” Roak asked.

  “Time travel cults,” the man said. “Gotta watch out for those guys. They’re crazy.”

  The man spat a huge glob of something a couple centimeters from Roak’s boots. Then he gave himself a hefty scratch in the crotch region and spat again.

  “What ya need, fella?” the man asked. “I can recommend a good mechanic for ya. Adds will fix your ship right up. May take him a few days, but that’s only because he’s thorough. You want thorough when it comes to a trans-space system, let me tell ya. People get lost otherwise.”

  “Yes. Yes, they do,” Roak said. “But I can’t wait a few days. You know where I might find a ship dealer close by? I heard there’s a good one on this colony.”

  “Ship dealer? For a ship like that?” the man replied, shaking his head as brown juice slid down his lower lip and onto his chin. “We don’t get much call for ships like yours around here. Best you’ll probably find is a pleasure cruiser. Some of the more successful seed brokers like to rent them and take them on cruises around the local nebulas.”

  “Pleasure cruisers?” Roak asked. “You sure there isn’t a dealer that might have an old fighter left over from the War? I know the Galactic Fleet dumped a ton of inventory on colonies like this. Cheaper than bringing the ships back to GF headquarters.”

  “GF! Bah!” the man snarled and spat. Roak had to jump to keep the glob from hitting him square on the toe. “We don’t take kindly to talk about the GF around here! All their rules and regulations concerning seed propagation and genetic modification! Bah!”

  “Bah,” Roak said and spat as well. “Damn GF.”

  “Damn GF,” the man agreed.

  “So, maybe they did leave some fighters on this colony?” Roak asked, hopeful.

  “Wouldn’t know nothing about no leftover fighters,” the man said. “But I might know who would.”

  “Great,” Roak said and smiled. The smile started to falter when the man didn’t continue. “Care to point me in the direction of this person?”

  “I might, I might,” the man said as he hooked his thumbs in his belt and set his feet. “Except I don’t know you. You ain’t even offered me your name.”

  “N’jeak,” Roak said and held out his hand. “N’jeak H’gool. Pleasure to meet you.”

  “N’jeak H’gool?” the man asked, eyeing Roak’s hand. “That’s a Leforian name, ain’t it?”

  “I’m adopted,” Roak said.

  “Oh, well, okay then,” the man said and shook Roak’s hand. “Chabal Slood. Let’s see, you’re gonna want to talk to a man, if you can call him that, a man goes by the name of Khaga Whaga. He’s a Dornopheous fella. All putty-like. You know how that race is. Don’t offer to shake hands with him. It’ll take you ten years to get free of that grip.”

  “Khaga Whaga? Thanks,” Roak said, knowing he was in the right place. “Where would I find his dealership?”

  “Just the far side of this space port,” Chabal said. “He’s the only one I can think might be able to fit your needs.” Chabal nodded at Roak’s ship. “You want me to call Adds and have him come take a look at your ship?”

  “Would ya mind?” Roak asked, grinning from ear to ear. “That would be very kind of you.”

  “Not a problem, not a problem,” Chabal said. “What’s your comm signature? I’ll have him call you when he’s had a chance to look it over?”

  “Oh, well, my implant is acting up,” Roak said. “Probably need to get that fixed too.”

  “I know a guy that can handle that,” Chabal said.

  “I bet you do,” Roak said.

  “Excuse me?” Chabal asked, confused.

  “Sorry. I can fix my implant on my own,” Roak said. “Right now, I need to arrange for a new ship. Thanks for the tip.”

  Roak started walking across the tarmac.

  “Hold on, now!” Chabal called out. “How about I give you a ride? That’s my roller over there.”

  Roak glanced at the dusty hunk of metal and plastic that sat several meters away.

  “I was going that direction anyway. No trouble to give you a lift,” Chabal said.

  Roak really didn’t want any more to do with the affable Chabal, but rejecting his offer for a ride would be a huge red flag.

  “Yeah, great, thanks,” Roak said. “That roller there?”

  “That roller there,” Chabal said and nodded. “Come on. We should hurry since I think Khaga closes up early on Sixdays.”

  “Sixdays?” Roak asked. “How many days in a week around here?”

  “Thirty-one,” Chabal answered as he walked towards his roller with Roak right behind. “Most business folks close down on Sixdays. Everyone needs a day off now and again.”

  “That they do,” Roak agreed. He sure could use a day off.

  The roller was as bad-looking inside as it was outside. But the motor drive hummed and purred like it was brand new, so Roak shoved all preconceptions from his mind and settled into the passenger seat as Chabal pointed the vehicle towards the opposite side of the space port. It only took a few minutes and they were pulling up to a large lot filled with more clunkers than Roak had ever seen.

  His heart sank as he stepped out of the roller and looked at the hunks of junk that sat sadly upon the dealership’s square of tarmac. Then the proprietor came out of the small office set to the side of the lot and Roak’s heart lifted. So did the corners of his mouth. He had to force the smile down as the Dornopheous known as Khaga Whaga made his roly-poly putty way over to him.

  “Khaga, good to see you,” Chabal said. “This here gentleman is in a hurry and needs a fighter class ship. I said that if anyone had access to one, it would be you.” Chabal looked around the lot. “But, I think I may have steered him wrong.”

  “Well, Chabal, I may be out of fighter class ships right now, but I have a feeling I can help Mr.…” Khaga said.

  “N’jeak H’gool,” Roak said and offered his hand.

  Khaga’s putty face tried not to stretch, but it was obvious he was struggling with the Dornopheous version of a smirk.

  “That so?” Khaga replied. He shook Roak’s hand, letting go quickly and turning back to Chabal. “Chabal, thank you for bringing him by. I can take it from here.”

  “Of course,” Chabal said, tipping his fingers to his forehead like he was wearing a hat. Which he wasn’t. “Just being friendly. You two have a good day now.”

  “You as well, Chabal,” Khaga said.

  He waited for Chabal to get back into his roller and leave before he looked Roak square in the face and said, “Roak, you son of a bitch, how long has it been?”

  “Too long, Bhangul,” Roak replied and chuckled. “Damn, it is good to see a friendly face.”

  “N’jeak H’gool? Really?” Bhangul laughed. “Interesting name to pick.”

  “I stole his ship,” Roak said. “It’s parked on the far side of the space port.”

  “Of course it is,” Bhangul said. “Come inside and let’s talk.”

  “Sounds good,” Roak replied and followed the Dornopheous into the small office.

  22.

  “I’m not going to ask what kind of trouble you’ve got yourself into, because it’s obvious that you are in deep,” Bhangul said as he took a squishy seat behind a desk way too large for the small office. “So, let’s get down to exactly what kind of ship you are looking for.”

  “I’m hoping the inventory out on the lot is just for show,” Roak said. “An ugly, ugly show, but it keeps the law from looking deeper into your business.”

  “You hope right,” Bhangul said. “I�
�m surprised you knew I was here on the Zuus Colony. I put the word out to most of the old gang, but a lot said you’d dropped off the radar.”

  “Just been keeping to myself. You know,” Roak said.

  “I do,” Bhangul said.

  “I should have reached out, but I haven’t needed a clean ship in a while,” Roak said. “Good thing I kept up on your whereabouts.”

  “So why now? What happened to your ship?” Bhangul asked.

  “Trashed,” Roak said. “Impounded and headed for salvage. I’ll get it back before they cube it, but in the meantime…”

  “In the meantime you need a fighter that can outfly the two ships following you,” Bhangul said, waving away Roak’s surprised look. “Wipe that look off your face. You know how I operate. I keep track of every single ship that comes and goes. I’d be pretty bad at my job if I didn’t.”

  “You got anything that fits the description?” Roak asked. “I am in kind of a hurry.”

  “You’re in more than kind of a hurry,” Bhangul laughed. “You stole N’jeak H’gool’s ship. You’re in a huge hurry.”

  He stood up and a small holo formed in front of him. After a complex series of codes were input into the holo, the floor next to Roak slid wide open to reveal an open lift platform.

  “Step on,” Bhangul said, coming around the desk and taking his own advice. “Try to stay still. No railing.”

  Roak stepped on and the lift began to descend. The only light was from the opening above, but that was extinguished as the floor slid back in place. After a couple of seconds, iridescent strips began to break the darkness then they were suddenly plunged into a blindingly white space that had to be almost half the size of the space port above.

  “Okay, now we are talking,” Roak said as he stared at the vast inventory of high-end fighters and ships that filled the space. “Definitely not pleasure cruisers.”

  “Oh, I’ve got those too,” Bhangul said. “But the interest rates on the loans are ridiculous.”