by Jake Bible
“Right, speaking of loans,” Roak said.
“Oh, hell no,” Bhangul replied. “You know how I operate. Chits in hand or no ship. Don’t tell me you don’t have any chits.”
“I don’t have any chits,” Roak said.
“How? You always have chits,” Bhangul said. “It’s a constant that most of the underworld lives by. Roak always has chits.”
“Only if Roak gets paid,” Roak said. “Which is what this is all about. I haven’t had time to dig up one of my stashes. I’m good for it, Bhangul, you know that.”
“I know you are,” Bhangul said. “But I have my policies in place for a reason. It’s not that I don’t trust you. Hell, if there is anyone in the galaxy that always pays his debts, it’s Roak. It’s just that, well, you can only pay those debts if you’re alive.”
“Have I ever given you a reason not to think I won’t be alive after I take care of what I need to take care of?” Roak asked.
“Not until you showed up in a fighter stolen from N’jeak H’gool,” Bhangul said. “That’s heavy duty, old friend. Pile that onto whatever else you have going and I’m not so sure you will be alive to pay me back. Never thought I’d say that about you, but it’s just the truth. I gotta protect my investments.”
“And I need a fighter that can get me in and out of systems without raising any alerts with the local authorities or the crime bosses that own them,” Roak said. “I was gonna jack a ride if I couldn’t find you, but now I’m down here looking at about a dozen ships that will fit my needs. I can’t leave without a ship, Bhangul. That’s just the truth too.”
“That sounded like a threat, Roak,” Bhangul said. “Not very nice.”
“Not a threat,” Roak said. “We share too much history. I wouldn’t insult you with threats. But I need a ship and I can’t pay in chits right now. We have to be able to work something out.”
Bhangul thought for a few minutes. Roak let him. It was a difficult situation, and Roak was in no position to push the Dornopheous, even if he was an old friend. He owed the guy every chance to come up with a solution that didn’t end in Roak stealing a ship out from under him. Which Roak was totally prepared to do if things didn’t work out.
“How much time do you have?” Bhangul asked. “Give me an exact number.”
“None,” Roak said. “N’jeak has to be on his way here by now. Between that and the fact that the person I’m hunting is on the move, I have less than zero when it comes to spare time.”
“Yes, but how much time do you have?” Bhangul asked.
Roak shook his head and smiled.
“Who is it?” Roak asked.
“A local thug,” Bhangul said. “Skrang. He and his Skrang posse keep trashing my merchandise up top because I refuse to pay protection money.”
“Why not take care of them yourself? You are more than capable of wiping the floor with some Skrang punks,” Roak said. “I saw you crush two Gwreqs at once with that putty body of yours.”
“Yes, but then I won’t be silly old lovable Khaga Whaga anymore, would I?” Bhangul said. “My cover would be blown and I’d have to start all over and set up shop on some other idiotic colony.”
He spread his putty arms.
“That means ditching this inventory down here,” Bhangul continued. “I really don’t want to do that. Look at these babies. There are some prime pieces of ship here.”
“That there are,” Roak said. He sighed. “How many in the gang?”
“Eight,” Bhangul replied. “That includes the head Skrang.”
“Where do they usually hang out? Is it close?” Roak asked.
“It’s right here in the space port. The port bar,” Bhangul said. “They hassle and scam visitors, usually sales reps coming in to deal with seed brokers. They call it travelers insurance. Most pay. Those that don’t get their asses handed to them and shipped out on the latest med shuttle.”
“Local law?” Roak asked.
“Drunk and ignorant,” Bhangul said. “If it doesn’t directly affect the seed business, then they don’t care. Some of them think it’s funny.”
“I do this and you’ll float me a loan on one of your ships?” Roak asked. “On a solid ship. Not the one you’ve been trying to get rid of for years. A real ship that will help me stay alive so I can pay you back.”
“See that one there?” Bhangul said.
“That’s a Borgon Eight-Three-Eight stealth incursion ship,” Roak said. “Drop teams use those, right?”
“That’s my best ship,” Bhangul said. “Full stealth tech. Latest upgrades. You can pop in and out of wormhole portals and no one will even know. How’s that for being a solid ship?”
“What’s wrong with it?” Roak asked.
“What? Roak, don’t insult me,” Bhangul said.
“You’re going to just hand me an eight-three-eight and expect me not to ask questions?” Roak chuckled. “Bhangul? What’s wrong with it?”
“Might be a glitch or two with the AI unit,” Bhangul said. “No big deal.”
“A glitch or two with an AI unit is definitely a big deal,” Roak replied.
“I can lock it down so its personality is not a factor,” Bhangul said. “Just limits some of the cooler features of the ship.”
“That’ll work. I don’t need cool,” Roak said. “Single pilot isn’t a problem?”
“Roak, the lone bounty hunter,” Bhangul laughed. “You haven’t changed at all.”
“Change is for the weak,” Roak said.
“Listen, I have to be one hundred percent honest,” Bhangul said. “Single pilot with an eight-three-eight can be tricky. If you do engage the AI, just put it in autopilot mode. Nothing else, got it?”
Roak smiled. He nodded at the ship. “I can handle it. When will it be ready?”
“Give me an hour,” Bhangul said. “That should be enough time for you to handle my Skrang problem.”
“More than enough,” Roak said. “How handled do you want it? Scared to death handled or never bother anyone again handled?”
“Somewhere in the middle,” Bhangul said. “I don’t want them dead since that will bring the heat, but they also need to know that the only reason they are alive is because I am letting them live.”
“Not a problem,” Roak said. “I know just how to play it.”
“I thought you would,” Bhangul said. “Oh, and what are you going to do with N’jeak’s ship?”
“Nothing,” Roak said. “I’m done with it. You want it, you can have it. It’ll be hard to move, though.”
“No, I wouldn’t dream of trying to sell it,” Bhangul said. “But there might be room for negotiating a finder’s fee when he shows up.”
“I wouldn’t mention you bumped into the guy that stole it,” Roak said.
“I’m a pro, Roak, don’t be insulting,” Bhangul said. He pointed at the lift. “Get going. I’ll have the ship ready for you in an hour.”
“Where do I pick it up?” Roak asked. “It’s going to stick out if you take it up above.”
“Stealth incursion ship, Roak,” Bhangul said. “It’s designed specifically not to stick out. Just come back to the office. It’ll be waiting.”
Roak nodded and got back on the lift. On the way up, he checked the blaster on his hip. He’d snagged it from N’jeak’s armory and it was one thing he did intend to keep. Flott five-six concussion blaster with laser cluster spread. They weren’t easy to find.
Once back up top, Roak headed out of the office and across the dealership. The main space port building was about half a click away. Hand on his blaster, Roak walked casually across the hot tarmac until he saw the sign for the port bar. He turned in that direction, his head working out the moves he would need to make to take down eight Skrang. They were brutal fighters, but also very predictable. Usually.
Roak hoped for the usual.
23.
There were only five Skrang seated at a large, round booth in the corner of the port bar. Roak debated about whether or not he
should wait for the others to arrive, but he only had an hour and the clock was ticking. He was just going to have to do a good enough job that those not present got the message just as loud and clear as the five sitting in the booth.
“Hey, there,” Roak said as he strode up to the booth. “I hear you are the people to talk to about local protection.”
“People? Who the hell you calling people?” one of the Skrang snarled in his guttural lizard voice. “We’re Skrang! We’re better than people!”
The others laughed and cheered him then settled down and glared at Roak.
“Oh, okay, never mind then,” Roak said. “I got a shipment of data crystals outside I need to transport and I could use some protection. I guess you aren’t the Skrang for the job then. My mistake.”
“Hold on!” the first Skrang snapped. “What kind of data crystals?”
“Oh, you know, just normal data crystals,” Roak said. “A few white, a few purple. Might be a dozen black in there. Maybe two dozen.”
The greed that filled the Skrangs’ eyes was almost comical. They might as well have had chit signs floating in their slitted irises.
“Maybe we can help you out after all,” the first Skrang said. “For a price.” He eyed Roak’s new blaster. “Looks like you can afford it.”
“I do well in what I do,” Roak said. “I’ll gladly pay whatever the going rate for an escort is these days.”
“The going rate is that blaster and half your crystals,” the Skrang said. “Including all the black ones.”
“Oh, well, I don’t think I can do that,” Roak said. “All the crystals are spoken for and this blaster was a gift from my wife. It was our fifth wedding anniversary last week.”
“Someone married you?” one of the other Skrangs laughed. “With that ugly human face? You got more scars than I got scales!”
That set them all off laughing again. Roak waited it out, a faux look of confused bemusement on his face. Inside, he was planning which ones he’d shoot first and how badly he’d wound them.
“Will credits work instead?” Roak asked. “I have lots of credits.”
“Credits?” the head Skrang snarled. “Do we look like we deal with banks? Do we look like those damn seed farmers out there?”
Roak turned to look where the Skrang was pointing and the other Skrang burst out laughing again.
“You got chits on you?” the head Skrang asked.
“Oh, not on me, no,” Roak said. “But I have a satchel in my transport roller. I have maybe, three hundred thousand chits, but I need to keep most of that for trip expenses. You’d be surprised how many seed farmers don’t deal in credits either, despite what you think.”
The Skrang all sat up straight. All hint of jest left them. Their lizard eyes bored into Roak.
“You said three hundred thousand?” the head Skrang asked.
“Yes, but I also said most of that has to be kept for expenses,” Roak said. “Maybe you would take thirty thousand?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” the head Skrang said. “We’ll take thirty thousand. Won’t we?”
The others nodded vigorously.
“Excellent!” Roak said and made sure to make eye contact with each of the Skrang. “You fellas sure are swell. I know people denigrate the Skrang, but not me. No, sir. You are a good and just race.”
“Thanks,” the head Skrang said, his lizard tongue flicking out from between his lips over and over and over. He couldn’t have looked more obvious if he was drooling. “How about you take us out to that transport of yours so we can get that thirty thousand and be on our way protecting you from those bad bandits that are everywhere?”
“That would be great,” Roak said and gave a big sigh. “You have no idea how much stress I’m under.”
“We’ll help take some of that burden off ya,” the head Skrang said.
“Okay!” Roak exclaimed. “Well, come on. The transport is just outside and around the corner.”
Roak turned and left without waiting for the Skrang to follow. He knew they’d be right on his heels the whole way. He could smell the greed coming off them. It stank of stupidity.
Out of the bar, down the corridor, out a side door of the space port, and headed towards a narrow, hidden alley between terminals, Roak casually unsnapped the strap that held his blaster in its holster. If any of the Skrang had been watching, they would have noticed his hand twitch and fidget at his pants, the hem of his shirt, his belt, all movements looking like the ticks of a nervous, weak man.
“Where are you going?” the head Skrang asked. “There’s no transport back here.”
“What? Oh, of course not,” Roak said. “This is a short cut. I got lost getting to the bar and found this way accidentally. Saves a lot of time. Oh, darn it!”
Roak stopped and knelt down, pretending to adjust the straps on his boots.
“You guys go ahead and I’ll be right behind,” Roak said. “The transport is the midnight blue one with the bright yellow canvas top. You can’t miss it.”
The Skrangs snickered and tried not to laugh too hard as they passed him by. They each filtered into the narrow alley.
“Hey!” one of the Skrang shouted when they were all inside the tight, dark space. “This is a dead end!”
“Ya think?” Roak said as he pulled his blaster and stepped to the mouth of the alley. “Good thing because that means you idiots are boxed in.”
The Skrang started to charge him, but the sight of the Flott pointed right at them stopped them dead in their tracks. The head Skrang pushed to the front and pointed a clawed finger at Roak.
“You’ve made a big mistake, asshole,” the Skrang growled. “Do you know who we are? Do you know who I am?”
“Yes,” Roak said. “You’re the pain in my friend’s ass. Khaga Whaga? You know him?”
“What? You’re friends with that piece of putty?” the head Skrang laughed.
“Ha! Figures a loser like that would have some dumb salesman as a friend,” one of the other Skrang said.
“He’s not a salesman,” the head Skrang snarled. “Right? You ain’t no salesman? So, tough guy human with a blaster, what are you? Other than about to be dead.”
“Me? Just a guy passing through,” Roak said. “My friend needed a hand with some dipshits messing with him, so since I had some time to kill, I figured I’d come kill it with you all.”
“That so?” the head Skrang asked.
“That’s so,” Roak said. “I may also kill more than time.” He depressed the trigger slightly to make the blaster heat up and give out a low whine from its power cells. “Any volunteers?”
“What do you think is going to happen?” the head Skrang asked. “You’re going to scare us into saying we’ll leave the goo pile alone? Then what? What comes after that?”
“Scare you? Nah,” Roak said and fired six bolts into the alley. The four Skrang behind the head one dropped, screaming. They clutched various limbs, their hands trying to stop the bleeding. “I’m going to do a lot more than just scare you.”
All six laser bolts had hit their targets. Four took out the Skrang behind the head one. The last two bolts had loosened a railing that hung a few meters above the alley. It creaked and groaned and the head Skrang looked up at it.
“That’s probably going to fall right on your head,” Roak said. The head Skrang made to move out of the way, but Roak cleared his throat and the Skrang stopped. “Yeah. I like you right where you are.”
“What the hell do you want?” the head Skrang snapped. “You want me to say we’ll back off from the ship dealer? Fine, we’ll back off from the ship dealer. He won’t see us ever again. You happy?”
The railing continued to groan and the head Skrang kept shooting glances up at it while also trying to keep an eye on Roak. The crying and whining behind him had quieted down, but it was still a very real reminder that the Skrang were in a lot of trouble.
“You see, I am going to need some sort of assurance that you’re going to keep your wor
d on that,” Roak said. “I need some way to believe that you will never set foot on that dealership ever again. Hell, I need some sort of assurance that you won’t even look in Khaga Whaga’s general direction. But, I’m just not sure how to make that happen.”
“I said I won’t bother him anymore!” the head Skrang snapped. The railing groaned louder and the distinct sound of metal ripping echoed in the alley. “I promise!”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?” Roak asked.
“What?” the head Skrang replied.
“It’s an old saying,” Roak said. “Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Sure, sure, whatever,” the head Skrang agreed.
“Stick a needle in your eye?” Roak continued.
“Stick a what in my where?” the head Skrang asked. “What the hell kind of saying is that?”
“Old Earth saying,” Roak said and spat on the ground. It was bad luck not to spit when mentioning that toxic planet. “Earthlings used to say cross your heart and hope to die, stick a needle in your eye when they made a promise. So do you?”
“Do I want to stick a needle in my eye?” the head Skrang asked. “Hell no!”
“Then I’ll do it for you,” Roak said and fired. The precision of the Flott five-six concussion blaster with laser cluster spread just couldn’t be matched by any other pistol on the market. “There. Was that so bad?”
The head Skrang was down on the ground, his hands covering the empty holes where his eyes had been only a second before. The other Skrang looked on in astonishment. They still clutched at their own wounds, but their screams and cries of pain had dried up when their leader fell to the ground, blind.
“There’re three more of you, right?” Roak asked.
Half the Skrang nodded. The other half were too busy gaping at the head Skrang.
“You think I need to give them the same message I just gave all of you?” Roak asked. “Or will you pass it on and make sure that the fine gentleman named Khaga Whaga remains safe and sound no matter where he goes in this colony?”
Several voices rose and assured Roak that Bhangul would be safe and sound. They even said they crossed their hearts and hoped to die and please don’t stick a needle in their eyes. Roak smiled and nodded.