by Jake Bible
“Yeah,” the Skrang said. “I heard of him. Traitor of the Alliance that was disavowed because he refused to do the honorable thing and end his crippled life.”
“He’s a friend of mine,” Roak said and enjoyed the panic on the Skrang’s face. “I’m looking for him. Any idea where he’d go if he returned to Skrang Alliance territory?”
“Returned?” the Skrang asked.
“Yes. Returned. Easy enough word to understand,” Roak said. “Got some guesses?”
“If Sha Tog returned to Skrang Alliance territory, he’d be ripped apart and fed to the young in one of the birthing pools,” the Skrang said.
“Don’t doubt that. But say he wasn’t caught. Say he crossed back into Skrang territory because that would be the last place anyone would think to look for him,” Roak said. “What part of Skrang territory would the authorities avoid at all costs? Where would they rather not visit or search if they caught wind of Sha Tog’s return?”
“He’d be a dead being if he ever returned,” the Skrang said.
“All the Hells…” Roak sighed, drank more booze, then set the bottle aside and leaned in close to the Skrang. “We’re talking hypotheticals here. You understand what a hypothetical is?”
The Skrang nodded slowly.
“Good,” Roak continued. “So, hypothetically speaking, if Sha Tog wanted to hide in Skrang Alliance territory, where would be the best place to hide so the Skrang authorities leave him all the Hells alone?”
“I don’t know,” the Skrang replied. “I don’t. Skrang fear nothing. Skrang territory is for all Skrang.”
“Right. Sure. Don’t buy that one bit,” Roak said. “Think harder, son. Try not to break your brain, but put a little more thought into your answer this time.”
The Skrang’s features looked like he was being tortured as he tried to put a little more thought into Roak’s question.
“Uh… Maybe this one place…” the Skrang said then stopped.
“What one place?” Roak asked. He drank some more and gave the Skrang a wide smile. The entire table shrunk back. “What one place? Talk.”
“Okay, not so much a place,” the Skrang said. “A group? Faction? Not sure what to call them. Skrang don’t have a word for others that aren’t Skrang but are Skrang.”
“You called Sha Tog a traitor,” Roak said. “That’s a word.”
“These are not traitors,” the Skrang said. He looked honestly pained as he tried to puzzle out the right word. Roak waited. “Separatists? No, not right. They do not want to be separate. They want to be Skrang. They want all Skrang to be Skrang.”
“Where do these Skrang that want to be Skrang but aren’t Skrang but actually are Skrang like to hang out?” Roak asked, amused. He drank deep then set the bottle aside again. He was completely focused on the Skrang punk. “They have a base? A bar they frequent? A station on a moon or in orbit around some planet in Skrang Alliance territory? Give me something here and we can stay friends. You want to stay friends, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, staying friends is great,” the Skrang said. He scrunched his face up and the scales around his eyes flared. “Uh… Maybe the Moons of Stabs?”
“Moons of Stabs?” Roak asked. “Never heard of them. What sector of Skrang Alliance territory are they in?”
“They aren’t,” the Skrang replied and tensed as if Roak was going to strike him. “They move. Stabs is a dark planet. Doesn’t stay to a system like it should.”
The Skrang held up his hands, panicked.
“Not messing with you!” he exclaimed. Roak hadn’t moved a muscle. “Dark planets are no good. Skrang stay away, but these…others may be there.”
“They may be there,” Roak mused. “May be hanging out on moons of a dark planet that won’t stay put? That what you’re telling me?”
The Skrang gulped. “Yes…?”
Roak’s hand shot out and the Skrang screeched. A couple of his pals ducked under the table. Roak snagged the second bottle of booze and grinned.
“Thanks,” Roak said. “It ain’t much, but more than when I came in here.” He tipped the full bottle of booze at the punks. “Thanks for the hooch. You pieces of crap try to keep your noses clean or I might have to come back and thin your numbers a bit. Get what I’m saying?”
Those not under the table nodded vigorously. Roak turned and walked off, a satisfied smile on his face.
Roak paused outside the lounge. Three Galactic Fleet security agents were standing by the roller. They were busy studying the vehicle and didn’t see him until he started walking again and cleared his throat. The three agents turned quickly, each placing a gloved hand on their sidearms.
“Gentlemen,” Roak said, looking them up and down. Three humans, but each of different lineages going by their brightly colored skin tones. “You in the market for a used roller?”
“This your vehicle, sir?” one of the agents asked as he stepped away from the other two.
“Depends,” Roak said.
“On?” the agent asked.
“Why you want to know,” Roak stated.
The agent didn’t respond, only stared at Roak for a few seconds before glancing back over his shoulder at his two colleagues.
“How’s he scan?” the agent asked.
“He doesn’t,” the second agent replied.
The third agent nodded. “Yeah, he’s clean of implants and not showing up in our system.”
“What’s your name?” the first agent asked.
“Bex Klo,” Roak replied without hesitation.
“How come you don’t have any implants?” the second agent asked.
“Allergic,” Roak said.
“Doesn’t explain why you’re not in the system,” the third agent said. “You hiding from something?”
“Me not being in your database says more about the GF than it does about me,” Roak said with a shrug.
“Found a Bex Klo,” the second agent said. “Deceased.”
“Nope,” Roak replied. “Still breathing. Can I go?”
“In this?” the first agent asked, hooking a thumb back at the roller. “Where you going to?”
“You boys sure do like your questions,” Roak said. “But I’m not in the answering mood. Unless you are charging me with a crime, which you aren’t since I haven’t committed one, then perhaps you’d like to step aside and let me be on my way.”
None of the agents moved. Roak sighed. He glanced down at his bottle of booze and shook his head.
Then he chucked the bottle at the first agent. The man ducked, but that was the wrong move to make. Roak grabbed him, spun the man around, relieved him of his sidearm, and took aim at the other two agents while using the first agent as a shield.
“We’re already doing this the hard way,” Roak said. “So maybe we can not make things harder. Pistols on the ground. Now.”
The agents hesitated. Roak shot the second one and he dropped to the dirt, his hands clutching where his left kneecap used to be. The third started to draw his pistol, but Roak shot him in the hand. The man screamed and slumped against the roller.
Roak put his mouth close to the first agent’s ear.
“How you want to play this? Alive or dead?” Roak asked.
“Alive,” the first agent responded instantly.
“Good,” Roak said. “I’m gonna let you go. You’re going to pick up your friends’ pistols and toss them to me. Then you’re going to start walking.”
“I can’t walk!” the second agent shouted. “My leg is mutilated!”
“Your pals are gonna carry you,” Roak stated and shoved the first agent away. “Right, tough guy? You’re gonna carry your friend out of this parking lot and you’re gonna keep carrying him until you’re nothing but specks on the horizon.”
“Our roller is over there,” the first agent said as he gathered up the pistols and tossed them in the dirt at Roak’s feet. “Why can’t we carry him to the roller?”
“Because,” Roak said.
The fir
st agent began to argue, eyed the pistol in Roak’s hand, then swallowed the words and nodded. He and the third agent lifted the second agent up and walked away as quickly as they could while carrying the wounded man.
Roak watched them go and as soon as they were far enough away to his liking, he sprinted to the roller and jumped in.
“Hessa?” Roak called over the comms.
“Yes, Roak?” Hessa replied.
“Let everyone know we’re taking off as soon as I get there,” Roak said as he tore away from the lounge, his foot pushing the roller’s accelerator pedal down to the floor.
“Roak? What did you do?” Hessa asked.
“Might have shot a couple of GF agents,” Roak said. “Don’t worry, they’ll live. But there might be more on the way soon. Best we leave ASAP so none of this blows back onto Bhangul.”
“I am sure Bhangul will appreciate that,” Hessa said, sounding exasperated. “I have let the others know. Reck is not happy.”
“Reck is never happy,” Roak said. “See ya in a few minutes. Be prepped and ready.”
“Don’t insult me, Roak,” Hessa said. “I am always prepped and ready.”
4.
“You had to go and start a fight with Galactic Fleet security agents just as I was almost done dialing in the new mods,” Reck snapped as she sat at the Eight-Three-Eight’s weapons console. She looked about the bridge at the others. “Am I the only one that’s bothered by this?”
“Most things Roak does bother me,” Yellow Eyes said.
“Did they say what they wanted before you began the fisticuffs?” Hessa asked.
“No, and I didn’t ask,” Roak replied. “And don’t use words like fisticuffs. Just say fight.”
“You don’t even know why they were there looking at the roller?” Reck asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Roak said. “They were Galactic Fleet agents and in my way.”
“Can Hessa be in charge from now on?” Yellow Eyes asked, raising a nub. “I vote that Hessa is in charge, man. She wouldn’t start a fight with GF agents for no reason.”
“Having me in charge would solve a lot of problems,” Hessa agreed.
“What problems? We’re off the planet and have a target,” Roak said. “That’s what matters.”
“Hold on, buddy, we’re not quite at the having a target point,” Bishop said.
Roak slowly swiveled the pilot’s seat so he could stare at Bishop who was seated at the navigation console. “Explain.”
“Moons of Stabs?” Bishop chuckled. “Dark planets that move from system to system? Old wives tale, pal. What we’re probably looking for is a base as big as a planet.”
“I disagree,” Hessa interrupted. “I have been doing some research and I believe the Moons of Stabs are real. I also believe that the planet Stabs is a dark planet and can move from one system to the other. There are records in the Skrang historical archives that suggest several dark planets exist within the Skrang Alliance territory. Unfortunately, the records are not detailed enough to say which dark planet is which or how we track them down.”
“Exactly,” Bishop said. “We need more intel. I have feelers out there, but it’s going to take a while. I suggest we find a nice tavern to hide in and then”—”
“Ligston,” Roak said. “We’re going to Ligston.” He brought up a holo and showed them receipt of an encoded message.
Everyone on the bridge was quiet. Hessa finally broke the silence with one of the many human affectations she’d picked up. She cleared her AI throat.
“Ligston? Is that wise, Roak?” she asked. “I have not vetted the source of that message yet. And Ligston is not exactly a planet that is friendly toward you.”
“Are there planets that are friendly toward Roak?” Yellow Eyes asked. “Do those exist?”
“No,” Reck said. “There are just planets that hate him less than others.”
“Yet I keep getting hired,” Roak said. “So someone likes me.”
“Not Ligston,” Hessa stated. “Ligston does not like you. Lawman Pitch made that clear, Roak. You step foot on Ligston again and he’s going to come for you.”
“Looking forward to that,” Roak said. “There’s someone on Ligston that I still think knows where Sha Tog may have gone.”
“Wrong bark, wrong tree,” Bishop said.
“What does that mean?” Yellow Eyes asked. “I have no idea what that means.”
“I’m gonna answer this message then we’re going to Ligston,” Roak said. “If Sha Tog has gone into Skrang Alliance territory, and he’s gone to hide with Skrang rebels or separatists or whatever they are on the moons of some dark planet, then he left a clue on Ligston as to where to find that dark planet. He’s a survivor, and I know survivors. Sha will leave himself an out if things in the Skrang Alliance territory don’t go well for him. I’m that out and there’s only one being he’d trust with that info. One being that I know Lawman Abel Pitch won’t mess with too much.”
“Bit of a stretch there, pal,” Bishop said. “Even for you.”
“Who’s the bounty hunter on this ship?” Roak asked. “Anyone? No? That’s right. I am. We’re looking for someone that doesn’t want to be found. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
“Hessa? Talk some sense into the man,” Bishop said. “He burned the Ligston bridge.”
“With your help,” Roak snarled, aiming a finger at Bishop. “You blew up the vault and took my chits. You blew up Sha Tog’s shop and”—”
“Nope,” Bishop said, shaking his hand. “I blew up the vault and took the chits, sure. I own up to that. Have several times since you’ve been kind enough to not chop my head off and punt it out into open space. But Sha Tog’s shop? Not my doing, pal. He did that to cover his tracks.”
“Sounds like the guy is good at covering his tracks, man,” Yellow Eyes said and cringed under the harsh glare Roak gave him. “Just saying, man. If he went to the trouble of blowing up his shop on a planet that has an almost pure oxygen atmosphere, then I’m thinking he doesn’t want to be found. You ain’t gonna find clues left behind by someone like that.”
“I can find the clues,” Roak said.
“You didn’t before, man,” Yellow Eyes replied. “Right, Hessa? He’s already been to Ligston and didn’t find anything?”
“In Roak’s defense, he was run off the planet by Lawman Pitch before he could truly search for clues,” Hessa said. “He was also distracted by news that Ally wasn’t”—”
“Don’t need you to defend me,” Roak snapped.
“Why in all the Hells are we even looking for this guy?” Reck asked. “Because he’s an off-the-books weapons dealer? I can toss a rock out into the galaxy and hit a thousand like him.”
“Not Skrang,” Roak said.
“So? Who cares if this guy is Skrang?” Reck asked. “If we want to outfit this ship with serious weaponry, I know a guy.”
“No, you don’t,” Bishop said quietly. “Any contacts you had are dead. Or they’re so terrified they won’t help you. Or they’ve been turned and will work against us the second we make contact. Your father has made sure of that.”
“Not our father,” Reck and Roak said in unison.
“Yeah, yeah, but you call him Father, so he’s your father,” Bishop said, sighing. “Get used to it.”
“Why Skrang?” Reck said after a few uncomfortable seconds taut with potential violence. Her angry eyes turned from Bishop and onto Roak. “Come on, Roak, why Skrang? You think they have tech that is superior to Galactic Fleet tech? Or superior to black-market tech?”
“The Skrang have tech that Father can’t get into,” Roak stated. “As much as he likes to act like some all-knowing deity, he has one major weakness. Forcing Bishop to work for him proved that. Setting up the showdown in the Gorf System proved that.”
Everyone waited. Roak only sneered.
“You gonna tell us or what, man?” Yellow Eyes finally asked.
“Galactic Fleet,” Roak said, annoyed that no one
guessed. “He’s tied to the GF somehow. He’s never operated in Skrang Alliance territory. What super powerful space deity is restricted by political and military demarcation lines?”
That got everyone’s attention.
“Okay. Fair point there, buddy, I’ll give you that,” Bishop said.
“Am I wrong?” Roak asked Reck.
“Maybe not,” Reck said. “I’m not saying you’re right, but it does make logical sense.”
“That had to be hard to admit,” Yellow Eyes said and stretched out a limb to pat Reck on the shoulder with one of his nub-finger-hand things. “I’m proud of you.”
“Gonna lose that nub in three, two…” Reck growled.
Yellow Eyes yanked the limb back quickly.
“Good choice,” Reck said.
“How soon until we reach the Gorf System and Ligston Station?” Roak asked.
“We are proceeding to the closest wormhole portal now,” Hessa replied. “We’ll need to take a more circuitous route than I’d like considering I haven’t had time to fully go over all the unnecessary modifications that Reck has made to my ship. I am unsure how the new shielding will hold up during trans-space travel.”
“It’ll hold up just fine,” Reck said.
“As you have told me,” Hessa responded. “And yet I do not believe you because I prefer actual evidence than simply the word of a homicidal madwoman.”
“This is fun,” Yellow Eyes said and stood up. “Heading to the mess for some gump stew. Anyone care to join me?”
“Not a fan, but better than sitting here with the galaxy’s most dysfunctional family,” Bishop said, following Yellow Eyes to the bridge doors. “Bring you guys back something?”
“I’ll join you in a minute,” Roak said.
“No, stay up here,” Bishop said. “I insist.”
“I’ll join you in a minute,” Roak stated once again.
“Great,” Bishop said, sounding less than pleased. “Looking forward to it.”
Roak waited for Bishop and Yellow Eyes to leave then focused on Reck. She avoided his stare. So Roak shifted his focus to the ceiling and Hessa. Not that Hessa was in the ceiling; she was everywhere on the ship. She was the ship. But Roak had gotten used to looking up at the bridge’s speaker when addressing her directly.