Roak's War: A Roak: Galactic Bounty Hunter Novel

by Jake Bible

  ROAK'S WAR

  A Roak: Galactic Bounty Hunter Novel

  Jake Bible

  www.severedpress.com

  Copyright 2021 by Jake Bible

  Author Note

  It has been a wild ride with Roak. He started out as an homage to Richard Stark's Parker, but of course, Roak quickly took on a life of his own. And what a crazy life!

  This book caps off quite a series. A series I have truly loved writing.

  I'm not saying this is the end for Roak. I'm not saying this isn't the end for Roak. You'll just have to read on.

  What I will say is that publishing is a strange business and it may be a while before Roak (if he survives this book!) will be back at work. Maybe. We'll see.

  Until then, I want to make sure everyone knows how thankful I am for all the support and enthusiasm with this series. It has been a blast!

  And even though Roak won't admit it, I consider us a team. We're a team, right?

  Eight Million Gods damn right!

  Cheers,

  Jake Bible

  December 2020

  1.

  Everyone wishes they had a little more time.

  Just a little extra bit to get what they needed to do, well…done. To say goodbye.

  Not Roak.

  Roak died exactly when he wanted to and no one was going to take that perfect death away from him.

  Of course, someone did.

  That really pissed Roak off.

  "Roak!"

  Like really pissed him off.

  "Roak! ROAK! GET UP!"

  Roak slowly opened his eyes.

  He was in his bed, in his cabin, on his ship, and the voice in his head wasn't one of the Eight Million Gods.

  It was Hessa. His AI partner. His faithful companion for the past few years. The strange AI being that had saved his ass countless times.

  But, according to the dark tech Pol Hammon, and the evidence in a set of quantum files the old man (now in a young man's body) found, Hessa was something way more than just an AI.

  She was an entity from another universe.

  Hessa was Mother.

  His mother? No. Roak knew that wasn't the case. The evidence in the files also showed Roak what he and his siblings, alive and dead, were. They didn't have a mother in the traditional sense of the word.

  Roak blinked up at the ceiling.

  "What, Hessa?"

  "We need to talk, Roak," Hessa replied via the comm implant she had put in him. Against his will. Just like her waking him from his perfect death.

  "I don't think so," Roak replied.

  "Did you have that dream again?" Hessa asked. "The one where you die?"

  "Stop listening to my conversations with Reck," Roak said.

  "I am this entire ship, Roak," Hessa said. "I can't stop listening to anything. I hear and see it all. All of it. You know what, Roak?"

  "I don't know what and I don't want to know what."

  "Hearing and seeing everything you beings do is no picnic. Living beings are gross. I mean that, Roak. Disgusting bags of flesh."

  "Yep. That's us. Disgusting bags of flesh."

  "That leak everywhere."

  "Disgusting, leaky bags of flesh. Got it. Nice talk. Great use of my time."

  Roak sat up, pivoted, and set his bare feet on the cold floor of his cabin. Considering the chaos and violence he and his crew faced, it would have been wise to keep his boots and light armor on even in bed.

  But Roak was done doing things that way.

  He was done being the galaxy's most badass bounty hunter. The one that took the jobs the other hunters refused. He was done.

  Done. Done. Done.

  So, bare feet and bare body.

  Roak stood up, stretched, and glanced at the small mirror set on the wall of his cabin.

  Over six feet, square-jawed and broad-shouldered, Roak looked like he could have played any of a dozen of popular galactic professional sports in his youth. But his youth was long gone. Mid-forties, scarred skin, ropy muscles, and eyes that were cold as ice, the only sport in his life was one that involved a good deal of violence.

  That, and as he found out, he never really had a "youth" where he could have even played a galactic sport.

  All the Hells, he wasn't from the galaxy he was in. He wasn't even from the same universe.

  Just like Hessa.

  "Roak!"

  Roak sighed.

  Hessa had called in reinforcements.

  "Not now, Reck," Roak replied over the comm to his "sister". "Gonna steam then get something to eat."

  The door chimed.

  "I said not now," Roak snapped.

  The door opened.

  "Eight Million Gods, put on some clothes," Reck said as she barged into his cabin. She found a shirt and pants wadded up on the floor and tossed them to Roak. "Now."

  "I said I was going to steam first," Roak said, letting the clothes fall to the floor. He shuffled off to his cabin's lavatory. "I'll be out when I'm out."

  Roak slid the lavatory door closed and started the steam shower.

  "How long are you going to pout like this?" Reck yelled through the door.

  "I'm not pouting. And go away!" Roak shouted back.

  "Not going away! We need to talk. You, me, Hessa. We need to talk!"

  "About what? Huh? What is there really to talk about?"

  Roak stepped into the stall and let the hot steam wash over him. He would have loved a real shower, one with actual water, but that was a luxury few could afford.

  He leaned his forehead against the wall and let the heat seep into his tired and sore muscles.

  The dream came back to him.

  Always the same, and on constant repeat for the past two weeks. Ever since he'd found out Hessa was Mother.

  Roak stood on the edge of a cliff. He had no idea what planet it was. It looked familiar, but he couldn't say why. He did know it was a barren wasteland. Except for the bubbling pools of toxic waste that dotted the landscape. The place had that going for it.

  Roak stood there and stared out at the wasteland.

  He was not alone.

  He couldn't see who was with him, but he felt the presence, not knowing if that being standing just behind him was a being he could trust.

  Yet he didn't turn around.

  Instead, Roak waited. Waited for that shove he knew was coming. Waited for the fall. Waited for the collision with the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff a hundred meters down.

  He felt the collision, felt the agony and pain, felt all his bones breaking and his body bursting open on the rocks.

  It felt wonderful. It felt peaceful. It felt right.

  Oh, sweet, sweet death.

  Then, like every Eight Million Gods damn time, someone would wake him from his death. Every Eight Million Gods damn time…

  The steam cut off.

  Roak growled.

  "I told her to do that!" Reck yelled through the door. "No more steam until we talk!"

  Roak got out and dried off.

  He opened a locker in the lavatory and grabbed some clothes. Mechanically, like an android set to Basic, Roak put on his clothes, glanced around for his boots, realized they were by his bed, and turned to face the door.

  "I have your boots!" Reck yelled.

  "Son of a gump," Roak muttered.

  He opened the lavatory door. Reck stood there, his boots in her hand, well out of his reach.

  "Are you going to talk or not?" Reck snapped.

  "I'm going to go to the mess and eat some gump stew," Roak said. He pushed past Reck. "Then I'm going up to the bridge and we're getting back to work. Has Gerber commed
in yet?"

  Roak, in bare feet, walked to his cabin door. It did not open.

  "Hessa? Open my door," Roak ordered.

  "Don't you mean, Mother?" Reck said.

  She threw the boots at Roak. He swatted them away before they collided with his head. He retrieved them, slipped them on, then waited at the door once more.

  "We have work to do," Roak said. "Did Gerber comm or not?"

  The door opened.

  "Where's the thank you?" Hessa asked.

  "Why would I thank you for opening my door?" Roak replied as he headed for the lift at the end of the corridor. "I shouldn't have to ask for my door to open. It should just open. That's how doors work, Hessa. Unless an angry AI intervenes."

  "I'm more than an AI, Roak, and you know it," Hessa snapped. "So stop acting like a child, stop avoiding reality, and then maybe doors will just open for you again."

  "Hessa and I already talked," Reck called as she caught up to Roak. "You need to talk to her and then we all need to talk together."

  "Pass on that," Roak said as the lift doors opened. He stepped on and didn't wait for Reck before tapping at the interface.

  Reck made it on and glared at Roak the entire ride to the mess deck.

  The lift doors opened and Roak stepped off without a word. He walked to the mess, saw that Yellow Eyes was already there and devouring bowl after bowl of gump stew, and seriously considered turning around and going hungry.

  "Roak!" Yellow Eyes called. "Grab a seat, man. The stew is exceptional today."

  The being was as thin as a broom handle and about as tall. Six spindly arms protruded from what Roak guessed was the creature's torso and six spindly legs protruded from what Roak guessed was the creature's pelvis. Everything was guesses when it came to the being.

  Except for the color of the being's skin, which was a brighter yellow than its eyes, and how fast he could move, which was faster than most surveillance systems could even track. That came in handy. The speed, not the yellow skin. The yellow was sometimes a bit much for Roak to handle, but he tolerated it.

  "Aren't you supposed to be helping Poq today?" Roak asked.

  Roak fetched himself a couple of bowls of gump stew and a mug of caff, thought about sitting at a different table, realized Yellow Eyes would just move tables, and sat down across from the being.

  Reck was only a couple of seconds behind him. She sat down right next to Roak, almost close enough to bump elbows.

  Roak sighed.

  "Uh oh," Yellow Eyes said. "Looks like today is not the day Roak wakes up from his funk."

  "I'm not in a funk," Roak said.

  Yellow Eyes and Reck laughed. Roak ignored them and ate his stew.

  "Oh, man, you are in the Godfather of funks," Yellow Eyes said between spoonfuls of stew.

  "What did I say about that word?" Roak snapped.

  Yellow Eyes frowned, glanced at Reck, who just shrugged. Yellow Eyes' frown deepened.

  "And what word is that, Roak?" Yellow Eyes asked with a sigh.

  "You know it," Roak said.

  "Nope. How about you say it out loud, man?" Yellow Eyes replied.

  Roak growled.

  "That's not a word," Yellow Eyes said.

  Roak reached for his Flott five-six concussion blaster with laser cluster spread. It wasn't on his hip. He growled deeper as he went back to eating his stew.

  "Well, since you won't tell me the word then I'll have to guess," Yellow Eyes said. "Is it whiny baby?"

  More growling.

  "Little pissy bitch?"

  The growl intensified.

  "Poor widdle Roaky Roak?"

  "You're gonna want to stop," Roak said.

  "Or what, man?" Yellow Eyes asked. "You'll kill me? First, no pistol. Second, Hessa will stop you. Third, you don't really want to kill me."

  "Mmmm," Reck said.

  "Okay, maybe you do, but you aren't going to," Yellow Eyes said and was gone in a blur. He returned with six more bowls of gump stew. "You need my speed, man."

  "We all need your speed, Yellow Eyes," Hessa said. "Thank you for being part of the team."

  Everyone waited.

  Usually, Roak would have snapped off something mean about it not being a team. He remained silent. Other than the growling.

  "Eight Million Gods damn," Yellow Eyes swore. "You need to get that thick head of yours right."

  "Just let me eat my stew," Roak said.

  It was a calm, casual statement in a calm, casual voice.

  Yellow Eyes shrunk back. Reck scooted down the bench by half a meter.

  "Incoming comm from General Gerber," Hessa announced, her voice dripping with disdain. Everyone present knew it was disdain for Roak, not for Gerber. "Shall I put it through?"

  "No," Roak said. "I'll take it on the bridge."

  He shoved his unfinished stew away and stood up. Roak downed his caff, tossed the empty mug onto the table with a loud clatter, then turned and left the mess.

  "You're going to have to deal with it at some point, Roak!" Yellow Eyes yelled after him.

  "He's right and you know he's right," Reck said, right on Roak's heels.

  "Whatever," Roak said and entered the lift.

  He hit the interface again without waiting for Reck, but she was too close for him to leave behind.

  They rode in silence up to the bridge deck.

  When the lift doors opened, Roak walked to the bridge and sighed.

  Seated in the co-pilot's seat was Nimm.

  A Lipian, the former prostitute slave race, Nimm fought her genetic programming and became a formidable soldier for the GF. When that career ended after having most of her limbs blown off and swapped for synthetics, Roak helped her become commander of Ligston Station. Unfortunately for Nimm, she got caught up in the mess that was Roak, lost her command, was tortured severely, and had to have her synth limbs replaced.

  But Nimm wasn't why Roak sighed.

  "Hey there, tough guy," Ally said, seated in the pilot's seat. "You've got an important comm waiting for you."

  Ally was a full blooded Tcherian, a humanoid reptile race that were chameleon like, able to change their skin to match their environment completely. She used to own a tavern on Ligston, but just like with Nimm, she had become wrapped up in Roak's life and everything went to all the Hells.

  One thing that did set her apart was that she and Roak were lovers. Possibly more. Probably more.

  She knew it. Roak knew it.

  Hence the sigh.

  "Good morning, Ally," Roak said.

  Ally tapped at her left cheek. Roak's shoulders slumped. Reck snickered. Nimm looked away.

  Roak walked over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Ally grabbed his face, turned it to her, and kissed him fully on the lips.

  "You're going to take this comm then we talk," Ally said as she stood up from the seat, pressed past Roak so he definitely felt quite a bit of her body against his, then waved at the empty seat. "Get to it."

  "Do we have to talk?" Roak asked, taking his seat. "I have a couple other ideas."

  "Yeah, I think you need to work out some stuff before we get to those ideas," Ally said.

  "That's not cool, Ally," Roak said. "You're going to keep…" Roak waved at Ally's body. "…you from me unless I talk? Did Hessa put you up to this?"

  "No, Roak," Nimm snapped. "No one put her up to it. No one put anyone up to anything. You are avoiding reality and it is jeopardizing our mission. Your mission, by the way. Building an army? Remember that?"

  "I am not jeopardizing an Eight Million Gods damn-"

  "Roak! About Eight Million Gods damn time!" General Gerber snarled as the comm signal was answered.

  Roak glared at Nimm. Nimm returned the glare with interest.

  "Gerber," Roak said. "What do you have for me?"

  "What do I have for you?" Gerber snarled again. "How about what do you have for me?"

  "I'm still working on it," Roak said. "It's not like bounty hunters have a club."

 
; "No, but there is a loose knit network of you scum…professionals," Gerber said. "Tap into that network and see who is left! Now!"

  "Is that all you commed me for? To bitch about me not tracking down bounty hunters?" Roak asked.

  "Tracking beings is your skillset, Roak," Gerber said. "If you can't do that then, yes, I am bitching about you not tracking down bounty hunters."

  "Nimm?" Roak asked.

  "We've arrived in the Javitz System," Nimm said. "Six bounty hunters use this system as their base of operations."

  A holo of the system came up in front of the bridge's view shield. A dozen planets filled the holo.

  "Each of these is a possibility," Nimm said and rolled her eyes. "I hate Javitz."

  "Oh, did someone say Javitz?" Yellow Eyes asked, suddenly appearing on the bridge. "I love this place! Every planet is a drive-thru with its own cuisine! Can we get take out? I am so in the mood for Gorborian shark soup. Can we get some? Maybe stock up a little?"

  "We are not here for take out," Nimm snapped. "And shut up."

  "Six bounty hunters?" Gerber said.

  "Possibly six," Nimm replied.

  "That's not many," Gerber said. "Kalaka and Meshara are solidifying the Cervile alliance. Sha Tog is coordinating with the remaining Skrang. Even Bhangul is trying to elicit the help of the Dornopheous. And you are wasting time with six bounty hunters?"

  "Possibly six," Nimm repeated.

  "I have something in the works," Roak said.

  "Care to share with me what that something is?" Gerber asked.

  "Nope."

  "I didn't think so."

  "Is there anything else?" Roak asked. "How is your end coming?"

  Gerber grumbled.

  "Drop Team Zero is the only drop team left," Gerber said. "But I still have most of the FIS agents. Their implant tech was covert enough that Father couldn't corrupt them in time. With Hessa's assistance, all FIS agents are now safe from Father's influence."

  "That's all? No other Galactic Fleet personnel?" Roak asked. "And you're on my ass over six bounty hunters?"

  "Possibly six," Nimm said. "Are we doing this or not?"

  "Gerber?" Roak asked.

  "That's all I have," Gerber replied. "Comm me with results as soon as you have them."

  The comm signal went dead. Roak cracked his neck and nodded at the view shield.

  "Take us down," he said.