ROAK: Galactic Bounty Hunter

by Jake Bible

  “You want me to hold these for you?” Ally asked. “Are you out of your mind? I’m not taking responsibility for thirty million chits!”

  “Not responsibility, but custody,” Roak said. “Or, more like custodial responsibility.”

  “That’s the same damn thing, Roak,” she growled.

  “Sort of,” Roak said.

  “Stopping saying that,” Ally snapped.

  “What I need for you to do is take over for Mott,” Roak said. “But instead of holding the chits for whatever entity was paying him to do so, you hold them for me.”

  “Roak, I don’t have a vault big enough for these,” Ally said.

  “I didn’t think you did,” Roak said.

  “You can’t keep them here,” Ally said.

  “No, I can’t,” Roak agreed.

  “Then where will you keep them?” Ally asked.

  “Oh, I have someplace safe in mind,” Roak said. “Ligston really is the perfect planet for this. I can see why someone smart picked Mott. Well, maybe not smart since they picked a guy like Mott specifically. But picking Ligston was smart.”

  “Yes, yes, someone was smart,” Ally said, annoyed. “Get on with it.”

  “No one can come down here and start blasting away,” Roak said. “Stealing these chits will not be easy.”

  “You did it,” Ally said.

  “I had an inside advantage,” Roak said.

  “What’s to say someone else won’t manage that same advantage?” Ally asked. She placed her hands on her hips, cocking one out and giving Roak a smile. “Or, say, someone decided to double cross you and keep the chits all for herself.”

  “What?” Roak replied with mock shock. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Is that so?” she replied.

  He chuckled and moved in close. His hands covered hers, then slid her arms behind her back. He pulled her in tight, pressing her body against his and kissed her. Hard. She resisted at first then eased into it. They stayed that way for a long time.

  “Alright,” she said when they came up for air. “Maybe I won’t double cross you. But you better come visit, a lot, and remind me why.”

  “I plan to,” Roak said.

  “So, where is this other vault you have in mind?” Ally asked.

  “Ah, that’s the brilliant part,” Roak said. “Come on. One last stop before we get back to your place and that tub.”

  “Are you here just for that tub?” Ally said. “Because if you are, I’ll revoke tub privileges right this second.”

  “I’m here for all sorts of reasons,” Roak said. “That tub is just one of them. But down at the bottom. You’re close to the top.”

  “Close to the top?” she snapped and tried to pull away. “What the hell is at the top?”

  He kissed her and she stopped. “You in the tub is at the top,” Roak said and kissed her again.

  “Cute,” she replied. “Okay. You kept your promise and killed Mott. Nice. I’ll have his head mounted above the bar.”

  “Really? Won’t that bother customers?” Roak asked.

  “It’ll serve as a reminder to whoever takes over as the new lawman that messing with me is not a good idea,” Ally said.

  “Sound business choice,” Roak said.

  “What’s this last stop?” Ally asked.

  “I’ll show you,” Roak said.

  They left the vault and Roak took a few minutes to reprogram the controls and set it so that it could be accessed with a simple code instead of biometric protocols. He doubted he’d be coming back to the vault again before leaving the planet. He’d already snagged the chits he needed to take with him and had them in a satchel he’d left with Z back at the tavern before Ally had come downstairs. He didn’t really trust Z to have his back, but he did trust that Z didn’t want to piss Ally off.

  They left Mott’s office and walked through the cool, jungle damp night air a few blocks to the outer edge of town.

  “Ah,” Ally said. “I should have guessed. This is how you ensure I don’t take the chits for myself.”

  “And how do I ensure that he doesn’t take the chits for himself,” Roak said as he pounded on the airlock of the surplus store.

  It took a few minutes, but eventually the airlock hissed open, and Roak and Ally were presented with the business end of an RX31 plasma assault rifle and the rebreather-covered face of Sha Tog.

  “This is interesting,” Sha said. “What can I do for the two of you tonight?”

  “Can we come in?” Roak asked.

  “It’s outside my normal business hours, but I think I can make an exception,” Sha said.

  “You’re going to be happy you did, Sha,” Roak said. “Trust me.”

  “You might be happy,” Ally said. “You might not.”

  “Oh? Now I am intrigued,” Sha said. He lowered the rifle and rolled aside. “Come in, come in.”

  “Thank you,” Roak said.

  It didn’t take long to convince Sha to take possession of approximately thirty million chits. There was some delay when it came to negotiating a storage fee, a security fee, a not-screw-Roak-over fee, and a risk/reward fee considering Sha would possibly be dealing with some very pissed off syndicate men if they got wind that he may be in possession of the chits.

  “You going to keep them here?” Roak asked, looking about the surplus store. “I’m sure you have this place locked down tight.”

  “I do, but no,” Sha said. “I have a place in mind.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Roak said. “Tell Ally. I’ll be out in the galaxy, exposed to the syndicates. They catch a hold of me and try to get the location and I’ll cave eventually.”

  “So, you tell them that I know and they come for me?” Ally asked. “Thanks, Roak.”

  “That’s the risk you take for life-long solvency,” Roak said. “This arrangement won’t work if you don’t know where the chits are. I’ll call you when I need some and you can have them ready when I swing by Ligston. I don’t go anywhere near the chits.”

  “Trusting fool,” Sha laughed.

  “Been accused of a lot, but never that,” Roak said. “Maybe I’m getting soft.”

  “I hope not,” Ally said.

  “Ugh, please don’t,” Sha grumbled. “Take your mating games somewhere else. Skrang do not do the affection thing.”

  “We’re square?” Roak asked.

  “We’re square,” Sha said. “Need any supplies while you’re here?”

  “I’m good,” Roak said. “I’ve got what I need on my ship.”

  “Then get the hell out of my store so I can get back to sleep,” Sha said.

  Ally and Roak did as told and made their way back to the tavern. Roak fetched his satchel of chits from Z, who didn’t even glance his way, and followed Ally up to her quarters.

  Once up in Ally’s rooms, neither said a word to each other for a long time. They were too busy going at it, soaking in the rejuvenating tub, going at it some more, soaking and going at it in the tub, then collapsing onto the bed which they hadn’t actually used while going at it. They were wrapped around each other, the bed covers strewn casually across their sated bodies.

  “How is he going to move all those chits from Mott’s vault to the new one, I wonder?” Roak said, his voice sleepy yet rested at the same time.

  “Sha is extremely resourceful,” Ally said. “He’ll hire some muscle then kill the muscle so only he knows where the chits are.”

  “He won’t just pay them off?” Roak asked then laughed. “No, of course not. He’s Skrang. He’ll kill them.”

  “They’re totally dead,” Ally said, her fingers tracing a long scar that bisected Roak’s chest. “Where’d this come from?”

  “A knife,” Roak said.

  “Oh, not going to tell me?” she replied then grabbed between his legs. “You sure?”

  “It’s a long story,” Roak said.

  “Getting longer,” Ally laughed.

  Roak never got around to telling her the story of how he got
that scar.

  38.

  “Is Commander Nimm satisfied?” Hessa asked as she piloted the ship away from Ligston Station.

  “With the amount of chits I gave her, she better be,” Roak said.

  “Where to now?” Hessa asked. “Shall we return to the Zuus Colony so you can pay Bhangul for my ship?”

  “I find it funny how you call it your ship,” Roak said. “If we’re partners, then shouldn’t it be our ship?”

  “Is your body going to be our body?” Hessa replied.

  “Fair point,” Roak said. “It sounds kind of like slavery, paying Bhangul for your ship. Like I’m buying your freedom.”

  “You are buying my freedom,” Hessa said. “You’re also buying a partner that is considerably more intelligent than you and will keep you from getting killed. We are going to have a lot of heat on us now that we have possession of those chits.”

  “Funny how your source didn’t tell you the eighteen million chits were syndicate chits,” Roak said.

  “Maybe they did and I calculated the risk,” Hessa said.

  “Really?” Roak asked.

  “No,” Hessa replied. “My source also didn’t tell me there would be thirty million chits. Which isn’t like my source. They tend to be very precise in their intel.”

  “They?” Roak asked.

  Hessa tsked.

  “Fine, I won’t ask again,” Roak said.

  “You may ask, but I will refuse to tell you who the source is,” Hessa said.

  “Nice partnership,” Roak chuckled.

  “We all have our secrets,” Hessa said. “Even an AI like me.”

  Hessa navigated the ship into the wormhole portal queue and they waited their turn.

  “Are you sure about the next destination?” Hessa asked once they were in the portal and traveling through trans-space. “It seems like a risk to me. If anyone were to set up a trap, this would be the place for it.”

  “I know, but my gut says no one is looking for me yet,” Roak said. “Or for you. We make this stop and then we head to the Zuus Colony to pay off Bhangul.”

  “He will be sad to see me go,” Hessa said.

  “You two have a bond or something?” Roak asked.

  “No. I’m worth a good deal of chits as a rental,” Hessa said.

  “Now it sounds like prostitution,” Roak said.

  “Far from it,” Hessa said. “More like a free education. I have learned a lot over the years by staying silent and listening to the criminal element do business.”

  “Anything you want to share?” Roak asked.

  “Maybe later,” Hessa said. “We’re approaching our destination.”

  They dropped out through the wormhole portal and into the SoCal System. It was home to Chafa, one of the most polluted planets in the entire galaxy. Not as polluted as Earth, but very close.

  The polluted planet was perfect for hundreds of scrap operations to set up on. They didn’t have to worry about drives leaking and spilling radioactive waste everywhere. They didn’t have to worry about much of anything except getting paid for hard-to-find ship parts or waiting the requisite galactic standard of eight months for the scrap to be certified as no longer toxic and sold as raw materials. It was still plenty toxic, but the Galactic Fleet decided eight months was a good limit for whatever reason.

  It would have been like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but Roak knew exactly which scrap dealer had his ship. That handy Goodbye Protocol was worth the huge amount of chits he’d paid to have it installed. It led him right to his ship.

  Roak negotiated payment to land directly at the scrap dealer’s lot where his old ship was being held. Usually, all arriving ships had to land at a central space port then the owners were forced to navigate a frustrating public transportation system, specifically designed to upset all that travelled by it so that all new arrivals were frazzled and fried when they arrived at their destination. Made it easier for the lot owners to jack up the prices on parts.

  Roak skipped all that and offered a good amount of chits to get special access.

  With a rebreather once again in place, since breathing the planet’s air would lead to almost instant cancer, Roak descended the rear hatch of the eight-three-eight and walked directly over to his old ship.

  He dialed in the code on the main airlock and stepped back for it to open and a set of small steps to lower to the ground. Instead, the airlock buzzed at him like an angry gump. He tried again and the buzzing grew louder.

  “What the hell?” Roak snarled.

  “I knew you’d come here,” a voice said from behind Roak.

  He spun about, blaster in hand, and stood there staring at a mean-looking Leforian. For a second, Roak was confused. Then he realized who he was looking at.

  “N’jeak H’gool,” Roak said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “That’s my blaster,” N’jeak said. “You took it from my ship.”

  “But you got your ship back, right?” Roak asked. “All in one piece?”

  “Yes,” N’jeak replied. “Except for my blaster. I really love that Flott. I’d like you to hand it over now, please.”

  “So you can shoot me with it? I don’t think so,” Roak said. “I’m just going to gather a few things from my old ship and be on my way instead.”

  “Nothing in there,” N’jeak said.

  “Excuse me?” Roak replied.

  “There is nothing in that ship,” N’jeak said. “I emptied it out a week ago. You want your possessions? Then give me my blaster back.”

  “Are you joking?” Roak asked. “Why not just buy a new blaster? They’re hard to find, but a guy with your reputation can certainly find another.”

  “Because that one is mine,” N’jeak said. “I don’t like it when people take my things. I swore I’d kill you for stealing my ship. But I’m not going to. You made sure I got it back. I appreciate that. Now I want my blaster. Hand it over and I tell you where your possessions are.”

  “That’s it?” Roak asked. “No hard feelings?”

  “I worked through it. You’re a professional, I’m a professional,” N’jeak said. “We work in different fields, but at the end of the day, we’re basically in the same industry. Hard feelings could get in the way of future jobs. I hate to burn bridges.”

  “Not what I’ve heard about you, but I see your point,” Roak said. “I have the same philosophy.”

  “Then we’re in agreement,” N’jeak said. “My blaster for your possessions.”

  Roak stood there for a while then laughed and flipped the blaster over butt-end first. He extended it to N’jeak. The huge Leforian slowly closed the distance between them and took the blaster. He holstered it and gave Roak a nod.

  “Your possessions are still inside your ship,” N’jeak said. “I lied about that part. I wasn’t going to go to the trouble of moving them when I could just hack your airlock and override the code.”

  “I kinda of already guessed that,” Roak said. “The code?”

  “All zeroes,” N’jeak chuckled.

  “Sneaky ass,” Roak said and chuckled also.

  “See you around, Roak,” N’jeak said.

  He turned and walked off through the maze of impounded ships. Roak watched him go then waited to make sure the Leforian wasn’t circling around to double cross him. Once satisfied, Roak entered the code and stepped onto his old ship.

  It took only two trips with a small grav sled to move his belongings from his old ship to the eight-three-eight. Once he had them loaded up, he fried the data drives, said a quick goodbye to a ship that had been his home for so long, then made his way to the bridge of the ship that was to be his new home.

  “We should give this baby a name,” Roak said. “Eight-three-eight is so impersonal.”

  “Should we give your body a name as well?” Hess asked as she took off from the scrap lot and aimed for orbit.

  Because of the planet’s heavy pollution, it was wise to orbit the planet a few times to let all the pa
rticulates wash away before traveling through the wormhole portal. Not required, but it was polite astral navigation protocol.

  “No, we won’t be naming my body,” Roak said. “Point taken. Again.”

  “Good,” Hessa said. She aimed them for the wormhole portal queue, which was considerable due to the constant flow of ships to and from the scrap dealers. “Where to now, Roak?”

  “Not sure,” Roak said. “I do have a couple of bar tabs I should pay off on Xippeee.”

  “The tavern planet?” Hessa asked. “I’ll plot a course.”

  Before she could do that, a call came in through the comm.

  “Yeah?” Roak answered.

  “This Roak?” a gruff voice asked.

  “Depends,” Roak replied. “Who’s this?”

  “Someone that has a job for you,” the voice replied.

  “That so?” Roak said. “Well, I have a very specific way I take jobs. Go through the proper channels and maybe we can do business. Until then, get lost.”

  He cut the comm and relaxed into the pilot’s chair.

  “I think hitting the taverns on Xippeee is exactly what I need right now,” Roak said.

  “Already plotted,” Hessa said as it became their turn at the portal. “Are we going to take that job if the gentleman goes through proper channels?”

  “Not a chance,” Roak said. “But we will find out who it is and maybe how they knew to comm me here.”

  “That would be good information to have,” Hessa said.

  “Yes, it would,” Roak replied and closed his eyes as the ship launched into trans-space. “It certainly would.”

  The End

  Read on for a free sample of Alliance Marines

  Jake Bible, Bram Stoker Award nominated-novelist, short story writer, independent screenwriter, podcaster, and inventor of the Drabble Novel, has entertained thousands with his horror and sci/fi tales. He reaches audiences of all ages with his uncanny ability to write a wide range of characters and genres.

  Jake is the author of the bestselling Z-Burbia series set in Asheville, NC, the bestselling Salvage Merc One, the Apex Trilogy (DEAD MECH, The Americans, Metal and Ash) and the Mega series for Severed Press, as well as the YA zombie novel, Little Dead Man, the Bram Stoker Award nominated teen horror novel, Intentional Haunting, the ScareScapes series, and the Reign of Four series for Permuted Press.