Razer Edge

by Jake Bible

  Her face was turned to smoking mulch and she fell back into the cabin, causing more screaming from the occupants.

  The Gwreq snarled, but didn’t move from his spot. Drool dripped from the Chassfornian’s jaws.

  “That’s that then,” the Gwreq said as he let go of the Chassfornian’s chains and held his four hands up. “You made your bed, bounty hunter.”

  The Chassfornian charged, covering half the passageway before Roak even had time to blink.

  12.

  “Pol!” Roak shouted as he emptied his carbine into the Chassfornian with pretty much zero effect.

  The huge being staggered slightly once, but quickly corrected and came at Roak even faster. Roak tried to get his KL09 out of its holster, but there wasn’t time. The Chassfornian was on him and he found himself flying down the passageway, unarmed and moving at a speed that was going to hurt.

  It did.

  Roak collided with the far wall and felt something break inside. At least one of his ribs was singing with agony before he hit the deck.

  “Adjusting your armor,” Hessa called over the comm and Roak felt anesthetic pumped into the area around the broken rib. “We’ll have to fix the rib in a med pod, but that should kill the pain long enough for you to survive this encounter.”

  “I like your optimism,” Roak said as the Chassfornian reached Roak and lifted him up in the air like he was made of anti-grav particles.

  Roak went flying again. He lost sight of the first passageway as he was flung down the side passageway. At least that gave him room to fall. Roak hit the deck before being slammed into another wall. Roak’s body slid for several meters then slowed and stilled.

  “Pol,” he growled as he got up onto his knees just in time to drop back to his belly as a massive claw swiped for where his head had been only a fraction of a second before. “Pol!”

  Roak rolled to his right and the floor where he’d been was crumpled like paper. The Chassfornian roared and snagged Roak’s light armor in a claw and tossed him towards the ceiling. Roak hit the halogen banks at full speed and plastiglass and sparks showered him as he fell back to the floor.

  He didn’t make it to the floor.

  The Chassfornian swatted him from midair, sending him off on another unscheduled flight down a passageway. The ride gave Roak a couple precious seconds to wonder how in all the Hells Hessa was able to pump his injuries with painkillers. That hadn’t been part of his armor last he checked.

  “Can you…lead Pol out…of here?” Roak asked when he was able to breathe again after slamming into the floor and skidding several meters before smashing into the wall. “Hessa?”

  “No need,” Hessa stated.

  The Chassfornian grabbed Roak by his skull. Roak said his prayers and waited for the end, his eyes closing one last time.

  The head-cracking death never came.

  Roak carefully opened his eyes to see the Chassfornian’s head shaking back and forth like he was trying to loosen something that had crawled in through his ear.

  Painfully, with intense concentration, Roak slid his knife from his belt and studied the Chassfornian’s shaking head. Roak had one shot and one shot only since a bad death would mean convulsions from the Chassfornian. Convulsions meant Roak would end up with a crushed skull. That would not help his situation.

  Roak struck. The knife hit dead center between the Chassfornian’s eyes. It almost didn’t pierce the bone, but Roak had given the thrust everything he had left and the blade slid through into the being’s frontal lobe. Its eyes crossed and the beast let go of Roak’s skull as he fell forward.

  Roak barely had time to roll to the side so he wasn’t crushed by the massive corpse.

  Grunting and cursing, Roak picked himself up onto his feet and staggered back the way he’d been flung.

  “Eight Million Godsdamn,” the Gwreq said quietly, his voice half-anger and half-respect. “Gotta give ya that one. Too bad you won’t live to enjoy it.”

  The Gwreq took a step in Roak’s direction, but only the one step. He was stopped by a screeching, flailing, completely berserk Maglor that had jumped onto his back. The Gwreq tried to yank the Maglor free, but he couldn’t catch the thing even with four hands.

  Then the Gwreq dropped to his knees as half his face was blown off by a blast from a Blorta right in the left eye socket. The Maglor hopped off, put the Blorta to the Gwreq’s temple and fired three times, taking the rest of the face and most of the head with the laser blasts.

  Breathing heavy, and covered in Gwreq gore, the Maglor turned around and gave Roak a wide grin.

  “That helps,” the Maglor said.

  “Spickle?” Roak asked.

  The Maglor nodded.

  “Thanks,” Roak said and stumbled down the passageway. “Pol good?”

  “I am, Roak,” Pol said as he came around the corner with Sath right next to him, Blorta up and sweeping right and left.

  “Careful where you point that,” Roak said to Sath.

  Roak looked about for his dropped KL09. He caught sight of it and frowned, seeing the crushed shape it was in. The wounded bounty hunter staggered to the Gwreq corpse instead, crouched, and lifted it over onto its side. From the other side, Roak took the pistol from its holster and grinned.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he stared at the Flott five-six concussion blaster with laser cluster spread. “Would you look at that.”

  Roak checked the charge and frowned. Twenty percent left in the magazine and no extra mags on the dead Gwreq. He jammed the pistol into the empty holster on his hip. Tight fit since a Flott was bigger than a KL09, but it worked. Then he staggered back to the dead Chassfornian and yanked the knife free from the being’s forehead.

  With the blade in its spot on his belt, Roak stood straight and stretched, wincing and hissing as he assessed his injuries.

  “Hessa? When did you mess with my armor?” Roak asked.

  “Several sleep cycles ago,” Hessa said. “I didn’t ask because you would have said no. It’s not like I put in a new implant without your permission. Your armor is technically ship’s equipment and I am in charge of maintenance and upgrades of all equipment.”

  “We’ll argue about this when the job is done,” Roak said. “For now, thanks. You kept me alive.”

  “I am still keeping you alive. You would probably be going into shock by now due to your three broken ribs, bruised kidneys, and almost shattered right leg. Even you have limits, Roak.”

  “That’s debatable. I’ve been through worse.”

  “Are you about done conversing with your AI?” Pol asked. “Because, and I am not the expert here, we should probably leave this sector as soon as possible.”

  “He means ASAP,” Spickle said.

  Roak took several deep breaths. He could feel the edges of the pain, but not the full pain. That wouldn’t last. He’d need a med pod sooner rather than later.

  “Hessa, which way?” Roak asked. “Path of least resistance, preferably with a med pod on the way.”

  “You do not have time to stop for medical treatment,” Hessa said. “I have detected eight more Edger ships heading towards Razer Station. Conservative estimates would mean at least eight hundred additional Edgers are coming to occupy the station. Once that happens, I do not believe we’ll be able to leave on our own.”

  “More Edger ships,” Roak relayed to the rest. “Come on.”

  “Other way,” Hessa said.

  Roak switched directions and limped his way down the passageway.

  “At least now we are moving at the same speed, yeah?” Pol laughed. “Would you like me to carry you, Roak?”

  Roak responded with a cold, deadly chuckle. Pol stopped laughing.

  “I was simply attempting to lighten the mood,” Pol said.

  “Don’t,” Roak replied. “A heavy mood keeps me focused. You’re gonna want me focused.”

  The Maglors fell in behind and Roak paused. He glanced over his shoulder.

  “Do not shoot me
in the back,” Roak said.

  Both Maglors had their pistols aimed directly at Roak, but it was obvious the aim was out of incompetence, not malice. They lowered the Blortas and gave him apologetic grins.

  “Talk to me, Hessa,” Roak said. “What are the options?”

  “Few and far between, as the saying goes,” Hessa replied. “When you reach the T, you can turn right or left. Right will take you to a small cantina where there are approximately thirteen beings staying out of the conflict. That does not mean they will continue to stay out once they see Pol Hammon. Or you can—”

  “What is the conflict?” Roak asked. “Edgers versus…who?”

  “That would be Binter’s security forces,” Hessa answered. “He is not giving ground easily.”

  “His numbers?”

  “Three hundred and fifteen…fourteen….three hundred and ten,” Hessa said. “The number is dwindling rapidly, but he currently has the advantage over the Edgers.”

  “That’ll change soon,” Roak said. “What’s to the left?”

  “Waste management,” Hessa said. “No workers are present as they fled immediately to safer environs.”

  “But…?”

  “But the waste management system is filled with toxic substances that could end up leaking through their pipes and containers at any moment due to the damage the station has taken and continues to take.”

  An explosion emphasized her point.

  “Risk another fight or risk getting killed by poison shit,” Roak said. “Great.”

  He had to be realistic and knew it. They reached the T at the end of the passageway and Roak looked left.

  “Shitter it is,” he said.

  “Isn’t a shitter a toilet or bathroom?” Hessa asked. “I think septic tank would be a more appropriate name.”

  “Hessa? Shut up.” He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Please.”

  13.

  The stink was overwhelming, and Roak began to gag the second they stepped through the double doors that lead to the first chamber of that part of Razer Station’s waste management system. For once in his life, he wished he had a rebreather to put on.

  “Oh my,” Pol said as he jammed the back of one hand against his nostrils. “Oh, dear me.”

  “Poop!” Sath yelled.

  “Shut up,” Roak snarled. “The point of going this way is to avoid others. You yelling will bring others. Do not yell again or I snap your neck.”

  Roak limped past vat after vat of waste, his eyes on an exit at the far end of the huge room. Despite the painkillers Hessa was keeping in his system, his shattered leg was not staying quiet. The hundred and fifty-meter walk to the exit doors looked like an eternity.

  “This was one of ways out,” Spickle said.

  “We knew,” Sath added.

  “There other way like this, but worse,” Spickle said.

  “This better,” Sath said.

  “Way better.”

  “Much better.”

  “Stop trying to pretend to be useful,” Roak said. “Stay quiet, keep your eyes open, and don’t get me killed. That’s your job.”

  “I do see what they mean,” Pol said, hand still to his nose. “With the proper suits on, you could stow away in this…mess when the station voids its waste. From there, we could be picked up by your ship as we float free in space amongst the sewage. The Edgers wouldn’t think twice about—”

  “Stop right there,” Roak said. He hissed as jagged ends of what had been a single bone, ground together in his leg. “The Edgers will think twice. They’ll think three, four, five times when they see anything ejected from this station. Edgers don’t move on a whim. They’ve had this planned a long time. Right?”

  “I do not know how long the attack has been planned, but yes, you are correct, they—”

  “That’s all you have to say,” Roak snapped. “That I am correct. And what I’m correct about is the Edgers want the station, but they also want you. If that scum back there knew I was here for you, then the Edgers will too. You would easily fit through a sewage ejection port. You think they won’t swoop down on that port and have a look to see what else other than the station’s crap might have come out?”

  “Stinky look,” Spickle said.

  Sath gagged.

  “What are you choking about?” Roak asked. “You already crapped yourself.”

  “That why choke,” Sath said.

  Roak grunted and continued limping towards the exit.

  “What’s the situation, Hessa?” Roak asked.

  “Edger ships are almost docked,” Hessa stated. “Binter’s people are grabbing some ground back, but that will not last when the Edgers’ new forces arrive.”

  “We know two of their objectives,” Roak said. “Take the station and snag Pol.”

  “We do not know that last part for certain,” Hessa said.

  “We don’t, but it’s a solid guess.”

  “Need I remind you about my philosophy on guesses?”

  “Need I remind you that you’re an AI and you should leave philosophy to the mortal beings in the galaxy?”

  “Need I remind you that you’re an ass?”

  “No,” Roak said as he kept on limping. “But we’re going with my assumption.”

  “Need I remind you what assuming—”

  “Hessa? Shut up,” Roak said. “What’s on the other side of this door?”

  “Pipes,” Hessa said. “A full kilometer of pipes. They connect to every part of this station.”

  “Pipes,” Roak mused. “That’s all? None of Binter’s folks? No crazy assheads from the station waiting? No Edgers yet?”

  “No Edgers yet,” Hessa answered. “I have all of their forces monitored. I cannot say whether others are present. The amount of pipes, and the types of waste inside them, are not playing well with the station’s sensors. If the sensors are not able to pick up life readings, then I cannot pick up life readings.”

  “I get how it all works. So we’re going in blind?”

  “Not entirely. There is a small device on your belt that you can use to help boost the signal.”

  “A small device… What small device?”

  “Third pouch on your left side.”

  Roak felt for the pouch, unclasped it, and pulled out a small disc about three centimeters in diameter. He stared at the device for a couple of seconds.

  “We’ll discuss this later,” Roak said.

  “I am certain we will,” Hessa replied. “In the meantime, you will want to place that on the largest pipe you can find when you get on the other side of the exit. The device will use the pipes as a signal booster and I might be able to get a better reading from the ship’s systems. Also, it will relay a stronger signal to me from your suit. I need to pay special attention to that leg.”

  “Forget the leg and get us to the ship.”

  “Hard to do with only one working leg. That break is going to start sending bone slivers into your circulatory system any minute now. I can do nothing about that, Roak. If one of those reaches your heart or your brain…”

  Roak didn’t need her to finish.

  Twenty-five million chits. Yeah, that felt about right to Roak at that second. It was becoming a twenty-five million chit ordeal fast.

  “Fine. I’ll place the device on the largest pipe. If you notice my leg about to kill me, give a shout. I’ll hack it off for its betrayal.”

  “I’m sorry. Did you say you were going to hack off your own leg?” Pol asked.

  The Maglors squeaked in alarm.

  “What’s that you’re holding?” Pol asked, eyeing the disc.

  “Signal booster or some shit.”

  “May I?”

  “Can he?” Roak asked Hessa.

  “If he believes he can help,” Hessa answered.

  Roak stopped and handed the disc to Pol.

  “Oh, this is good work and much more than a simple signal booster,” Pol said as he studied the disc. “Your AI friend knows how to utilize repair bots to cr
aft some intricate tech. I could improve it, but only with the proper tools at my disposal. For now, this should be perfect to find a med pod for you without alerting the station’s security protocols.”

  Roak stared at the old man. “Hessa?”

  “I heard and I’m calibrating the device,” Hessa replied. “Yes. Pol is correct. I can find you a med pod with it. Pol is also correct that the station’s security protocols will not be triggered. Med pods are usually quite hard to crack, but I can with this. Excellent idea.”

  “Does your AI agree with me?” Pol asked, grinning.

  “Wipe the grin off your face,” Roak snapped. “And, yeah, she does.”

  “Then we should hurry.” He tapped his temple. “You are not looking healthy.”

  “Hurrying has always been the plan,” Roak said and started limping once more.

  They continued on to the exit doors, Roak’s leg getting worse and worse with each step. He held out a hand and leaned against the wall once they reached the exit. Roak eyed Pol.

  “You’ll know where the disc should be placed best,” Roak admitted.

  “This is true,” Pol agreed.

  “Wasn’t looking for confirmation,” Roak snapped and took several deep breaths.

  “You are a hard person to get along with, Roak,” Pol said.

  Hessa snickered in Roak’s ear.

  “If at any time I’ve given the impression I want people to get along with me, then that means I’m having a stroke,” Roak said. “Understood?”

  “Understood,” Pol said and nodded.

  “Understood,” the Maglors said.

  “I wasn’t talking to… Never mind. Hessa? Can you get the doors open?”

  “I am working on that now, Roak,” Hessa replied. “The Edgers are fully in the station’s systems and I am having to avoid their detection. It makes things a little trickier than a few minutes earlier.”

  “Can you get the doors open?” Roak repeated.

  “Yes, of course I can—”

  “Then say that,” Roak snapped. “I don’t need a full Eight Million Godsdamn essay on the whys.”

  He couldn’t make out the words, but he distinctly heard Hessa mumbling under her voice. Roak added that to the list of annoying sentient affectations she used.